Get
up Momma. Wake up. It’s Daddy.
It
was a little past two in the morning. Lila groaned. Not again, she thought.
Momma.
Momma Wake up.
Betsy
was a light sleeper. Lila was not. It took her a few minutes to come around.
There
were flashing lights outside. She heard the siren. I hope Teddy’s on call
tonight, she thought as she put on her slippers.
Lila
walked into the hall. Betsy was holding a compact mirror, checking her teeth.
Lila
yawned. Where was he this time, she asked.
In
the den, same as last week. Betsy smoothed her hair. How do I look, do I look
alright?
Is
Teddy on call.
I
think so.
We
need to get you a new housecoat. That one looks so ratty.
Martin
and Lila Hinckley had been married for more than twenty years. Lila was a
homemaker and until now, Martin had always been a good provider.
The
doorbell rang. Betsy smiled. I’ll get it, she said.
The
young man was tall, and blond. Lithe. Hi Bets, he said.
Hi
Ted. He’s in the den again. Where’s Jimmy.
He’s
coming. Jimmy saw it was you and he said, what’s the hurry.
They
laughed, and walked into the den.
Hi
Ted.
Hi
Mrs. H.
Sorry
we had to get you out here again. How’s he doing.
Martin
was lying on the floor. His eyes were open. Lila remembered the first time
Martin died, she felt like she’d been punched. Like the wind had been knocked
out of her. She remembered asking God, why did you take him.
There
had been so many nights like this in the last year. Calls to 911, paramedics,
and after that the doctors and the counselors. Everything was fine for a few
days, or a few weeks.
But
then Martin would die, come back and die again, and now when Lila prayed she asked
why God didn’t keep him.
Martin
turned his head to look at his wife and his daughter.
Never
again, Princess. Betsy’s face was flushed and her voice shook. That’s what you
said Daddy. Remember?
Martin
wanted to stand. He needed to give something comfort.
Gotta
check your vitals, Mr. H. Ted wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Martin’s
arm.
Everyone
waited.
Ted
looked at Jimmy and said, eighty-seven fifty-seven.
Anybody
else, I’d call that low, said Jimmy. Mr. Hinckley? Can you hear me?
He
leaned over Martin.
Martin
clutched Jimmy’s arm and tried to speak.
Ted
looked at Betsy. Hey. I’ve got tickets for RedMist at the Marquette. Next Saturday.
You wanna go?
Betsy
turned to Lila. Lila nodded. I’d love to, Betsy said.
Ninety
sixty, said Jimmy. He put the pressure cuff away, looked at Ted and rolled his
eyes toward the door.
We
gotta be going, Mrs. H. Looks like his color’s coming back.
Thank
you Ted. I appreciate you came out here at all, late as it is.
No
problem. I’ll call you tomorrow, Bets—or later today, I mean.
They
all laughed, and said goodnight. Martin lay on the floor, with his hand in the
air like a prophet.
We
gotta do something Momma.
First
thing we gotta do is go shopping. After breakfast, we’ll go to Worthington’s
and get you a new housecoat. And something new to wear on Saturday.
I
appreciate that Momma. I do. But I mean we gotta do something about Daddy. We
can’t keep living like this.
I
know baby. I know. It’s not right. And it’s not fair to you.
To
you either Momma. To you either.
No
I suppose not. I don’t know what to do, I see him like this and sometimes I
just want to…and then I stop, and I think, but it’s not his fault.
Maybe
so Momma. Although I don’t know whose fault it would be if it’s not his. But it
doesn’t matter. It doesn’t make any difference whose fault it is. Daddy’s the only
one who can do anything about it now.
I
expect that’s true. But it’s late, we need to try and get some sleep.
Alright
Momma. ‘Night.
‘Night,
baby.
They
turned out the lights and went back to bed.
Martin
laid on the floor in the den, as if life were a boy with a rock in his hand, and he was a quivering
thing.