“I’ll have hot pastrami,” Mom tells no one in particular.
She’s pale and her eyes are crazy—relatively speaking. “What is wrong with her?” I ask Lindsey as she whips out her stethoscope. Just a few hours ago, Mom was her normal self, angrily telling people that I want her to die, and conveniently leaving out the part about me refusing to kill her.
“And a beer!”
“I’ll tell you what I suspect in a minute.” She takes Mom’s blood pressure, then listens to her heart and lungs.
All I can do is fold my arms across my chest to hold in my panic.
“Your heart and lungs sound good, Patricia.” Lindsey hooks the stethoscope around her neck.
“Grab Tiger and Blacky.” Tiger was a cat Mom had before she burned her condo down. We never saw him afterward, and I like to think he found a good home a few blocks away. I’ve never heard of Blacky. Mom tries to stand, but Lindsey puts a hand on her shoulder and keeps her seated on the edge of her bed.
“I don’t want you to fall.” She turns her face to me. “I think she has a bladder infection. She drinks her water every day, but she’s had three in the past few years, according to her medical records.” Lindsey reaches into her scrubs for her little notebook. “I’ll call the closest hospital and let them know she’s coming.”
Mom’s no stranger to urinary tract infections. The first one traveled to her kidneys and landed her in the hospital. The pain that would send anyone else screaming to the emergency room at the first twinge of a problem, Mom doesn’t feel. The first sign that anything’s wrong is a rise in her temperature. “I’ve never heard of a bladder infection making anyone crazy,” I say as I put Mom’s orthopedic shoes on her feet.
“Bring me the cats. I’ll wait by the saltwater pool.”
“It’s not unusual for a temperature spike to cause confusion and even hallucinations in people with dementia,” Lindsey assures me.
With past infections, Mom’s temperature had returned to normal by the time I saw her. This is the first time I’ve seen her like this and I’m worried and afraid.
“We’re taking you to the hospital, Patricia.” She sticks a file of Mom’s records in a tote and hangs it from one shoulder.
“I’ll need my passport and swimming suit,” Mom says as we get her to her feet.
The thought of taking my delirious, back-seat-driving mother to the hospital makes my panic bubble to the surface of my skin. Mom’s heart might sound good, but mine is in danger of cardiac arrest. “How far away is the hospital?” I ask as we move to the back door.
“Ten miles.” Lindsey snatches the keys from a hook by the back door before I have a chance to reach for them. “I’ll drive.”
The spare key went missing about the same time Raphael started to go missing. “You just got your license.”
“We want to get there before it closes.”
Hospitals don’t close, but I get it. I grab my purse, and the three of us head out with Lindsey in the driver’s seat and Mom buckled in back.
“I love a good visit with Lorena and Vito. He’s such a cutup.”
I lower the sun visor and watch Mother through the mirror. I’ve never heard of Lorena, but Mom’s third husband, Vince Russo, had a brother named Vito. I haven’t seen Vince since Mom divorced him. I liked him and his family. He was a good guy, but that didn’t save him from getting the axe.
I look over at Lindsey, and her face has a slight green tinge. I don’t know if she’s sick or if it’s the dashboard lights. “Are you okay? Is Frankie okay?”
She smiles and glances over at me. “We’re fine. Everything’s good.”
To distract myself, I ask what I’ve been dying to know. “What about Jim?”
“What about Jim?”
It might not be my business, but I’m the only one looking out for Lindsey.
“I think he likes you.”
“Obviously, we’re just friends. He’s nice to me, and I like him, too.”
That’s nice, but what I really want to know is, “Did you tell him about the baby?”
She nods. “I told him. He said it doesn’t matter.”
Call me insane, but I find it alarming that a single young man is interested in a woman who is six months pregnant. “You can understand what he says?”
“Not always.” She laughs. “But I know what he means.”
“How?”
“Cuba,” comes the answer from the back seat. “We disembark in Cuba.”