Page 3 of A Taste of Grace

“Where am I?”

“In the psych ward.” She spoke the harsh words like a lullaby, sweet and gentle like Mama.

My eyes panned the room as I struggled to control my shallow breathing. This wasn’t part of my plan.

The nurse turned around and picked up a clipboard, her pen held high.

“I know you have a lot of questions. The doctor will be in soon to answer them and to discuss your treatment plan.”

“May I go to the bathroom?” I honed in on the closed door to my left.

“We have a catheter in you now...” Her downturned eyes displayed pity.

I lay my head back and sighed, replaying the day of my mother’s funeral in my head. When was that? Yesterday? The day before?

“What day is it?” My eyes sought a calendar but found no indicator of the date.

“The ninth.”

The day after my birthday.

“How am I here?”

The heart monitor beat louder as my pulse raced. The nurse followed my eyes to the notification.

“My head hurts.”

I reached for the spot that throbbed at the back of my head but was stopped again by the restraints.

“Cut me loose.”

I wiggled and pulled the restraints hard before she rested her hand on my bare leg.

“It’s for your safety, dear.” She sat down in a chair next to my bed and stroked my hand. “You slipped backward off the Edmund Pettus Bridge and hit your head on the concrete. A guy saw you on the side of the road and called the paramedics. They brought you to us.”

“Hold up. Slipped? What guy?” I shut my eyes tightly, trying to recall what happened but could only remember peering over the vast water.

“He wants to remain anonymous, but you’re a very blessed woman. You have guardian angels looking out for you.” She leaned over and almost whispered her words.

“Let me outta here.”

“I need you to relax.”

“But…”

I wanted to argue but didn’t have the energy to process everything fully. Maybe it was the drugs.

“Rest, Grace. You need your strength.” The nurse touched my arm and smiled.

“I don’t even know your name,” I mumbled as a sudden wave of heaviness overtook me.

“It’s Patricia.”

I closed my eyes and held my breath, unable to quell the dam of tears that now flooded my cheeks. Patricia turned around and pulled several tissues from a box on my bedside table, wiping my face with care.

“What’s wrong, Grace?”

“Patricia was my mother’s name. I miss her so much.”

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