Page 125 of Can't Get Enough

In the kitchen, I preheat the oven and lift the foil away, giving the contents an investigative sniff. Something with cream of chicken and broccoli. Another scene from the past paints itself onto my mind’s eye. The backyard overflowing with our neighbors, Daddy grinning through the smoke rising from the grill as he doled out hot dogs and burgers. Mama and Ms. Catherine singing “Free Your Mind” and doing En Vogue’s choreography. The memory echoes in the silent kitchen. I glance through the window over the sink, superimposing those vibrant days onto the unkempt garden and rusted-out grill tucked into a shed beside Daddy’s old John Deere riding lawn mower.

I relented, let Mama stay here because it’s what she wanted, but more and more I wonder if it was the right decision. This house is haunted, and Mama needs more than ghosts for company.

“Hmmmm, that smells good,” I say, opening the oven and watching the cheese sprinkled on top bubbling. “Mama, dinner’s almost ready.”

No answer.

I set the casserole on the stove top and walk upstairs to knock on her door.

“Mama, Mrs. Redmond dropped off dinner. It’s almost done. You coming to eat?”

Silence.

“Mama?” My voice comes out less certain, and I turn the knob slowly like it might delay me finding something sad on the other side.

Mama’s sitting on the bed, one hand pressed to her chest and releasing staccato breaths. Her panicked eyes meet mine.

“I’m sorry,” she manages between choppy inhalations. “I made a mess, but I’ll clean it up.”

“Mess?” I frown. “What are you…”

By her bed, her slippers are covered in vomit. Some of it is splattered on her bare feet.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of it.” I rush over to the bed and sit beside her, placing my hand on her back. “What’s the matter?”

“I can’t… I can’t… breathe, Henny.” Tears fill her eyes, leaking over her smooth cheeks. “My head’s been hurting all day, but I—”

“All day? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I knew you had all your calls, and I didn’t want to interrupt. Finally got Geneva to take one of her pain pills and she was sleeping good. Didn’t want to bother nobody.”

“Mama, you’re never a bother.” I hug her to me by the shoulders. “Don’t do that again. Please, for me.”

“I’m scared.” Her wide eyes find mine. “I can’t breathe, and my chest hurts.”

“Could it be a reaction to something?” I ask, suppressing my panic.

“I don’t know.” Mama looks at me through that fog where things aren’t clear and make less sense. “I… I don’t know, Henny.”

“Stay here.” I stride to the door and call over my shoulder. “Let me ask Aunt G about it.”

I don’t bother knocking, but burst into my aunt’s bedroom. She’s knocked out and blinks at me dazedly from beneath the folds of her bonnet.

“Hen?” she asks, voice rasped with sleep. “What is it?”

“Mama. She says she’s having trouble breathing and has a headache. Her chest hurts. Has this been happening?”

Her eyes widen and she tries to pull herself up, wincing in pain. I rush over and put a staying hand on her shoulder.

“Be careful. You just had major surgery. Take your time.”

“I think it’s her pressure.”

“Pressure? Like hypertension? Mama doesn’t have high blood pressure.”

Aunt Geneva flicks a nervous glance up at me. “She does now. She didn’t want to worry you so—”

“What the hell?” I shout, unable to hold back my frustration. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

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