The Screams
*
It ain’t no party if CPS isn’t called.
When we approached the hospital, we saw Renee smoking a cigarette outside. She hugged Aurora as we held our breath in the cloud of smoke.
She released her and quietly said, “Jean is causing a scene. Security has already warned her twice.”
I sighed. “Is Mom still alive?”
Renee nodded. “But she won’t be for much longer. Her brain is no longer lighting up the way it was.”
I frowned. “I wasn’t planning to come out here today. Why didn’t anyone tell me it progressed this much?”
I expected Renee to throw the usual Soot venom at me, but instead, she looked heartbroken. She reached over and rubbed my arm. “Sweetheart, everyone is scattered. No one would have faulted you for not being here. We’re just happy you are, and you can make your peace.”
I nodded but didn’t respond.
As we walked to the elevator, I was reminded of the simple lesson Paige had taught me. My mother would not give me peace, and there would not be a grandstanding apology. I had to gain that myself.
The door dinged as the number five lit up. Then the doors opened to the most white-trash Novak-Soot family drama I had ever seen.
A male security guard was holding Jean back while Matthew held Jason back. Louisa stood ahead, bouncing her crying baby as her kids ran around her feet, looking like she had attempted to pacify this meltdown.
Eddy stood to my right with Sol, his small nine-year-old body, with clownishly large feet, dressed in bright summery clothes. Typically, I would’ve been overjoyed to see him.
At this moment, he looked terrified.
I stepped forward and pointed Aurora in the direction of her brother. She pulled him close as they set off to my mother’s room with Eddy in tow. I scowled at the scene.
“What the hell is this about?”
Jean thrashed like a wildcat as she shrieked, “Jason appeared like the grim reaper and suggested we take Mom off the ventilator.”
The guard held her arms tightly and grimaced. “Ma’am, if you do this again, we’re going to have to do a forty-eight-hour psych hold on you.”
She let out a shrill scream as I stepped forward. I reached for her and motioned to the guard to let go of her. Jean seized my arm, and I braced for injury.
Instead, I felt her misery.
I pulled her forward for a hug and was surprised when she leaned in. I rubbed her back slowly, calmly saying, “Jason, I appreciate your contribution and traveling here so quickly. However, can we go to a neutral place, with maybe a grief counselor, before we make declarations like that?”
I could see Jason choking on his words. The idea of not ripping into Jean was misery. Jason, while the eldest, was also the instigator. In their childhoods, something terrible must have made him take such glee in others’ suffering.
Back when Jean and Reggie split up, Jason invited Reggie to dinner multiple times a week. Jean lived across the street.Seeing Reggie spend time with her family after she demanded that we avoid him would break her. Jean saw red.
A drunken fight broke out. Police were called, and Jean was escorted away because he called her hysterical.
This was just something he did to Jean, but all of us were on the chopping block. The difference was our reactions.
Louisa would cry. There was never a scream; there was simply acceptance and tears. Jason would feel guilty and apologize the next day.
Matthew let it roll over him. He didn’t respond in anger or sadness. He was willing to be a punching bag.
Me? I took the punches and attempted to throw them back, but my heart was breaking at the cruelty.
“It’s not my fault she’s acting like a child,” snapped Jason.
Jean was about to attack him, and I had to reach for her waist before she shoved me into the wall to get at him. Through gritted teeth, I hissed, “Do you want to be on a psych hold and not be by Mom’s side while she dies?”
At this, she tensed, then stopped thrashing. I let her go as she walked toward the stairs, and she turned and spat at Jason, “You are a monster. The only reason anyone tolerates you is because Mom loves you so much. When she’s gone, you’ll have to figure out how the fuck to be likable.”
To my chagrin, Jason saluted her. “Same, sis.”
Thankfully, Jean walked away.
I immediately turned to him and hissed, “I understand this is hard. Why do you have to antagonize Jean?”
Jason scoffed. “Because she overreacts. Plus, if she ends up in the psych ward, the adults can make decisions without worrying about her feelings.”
I wanted to punch his smug face, even if I couldn’t disagree with the outcome.
Louisa was pleading with the kids at her feet when I shook my head at Jason and walked forward, picking up the frustrated eighteen-month-old toddler, Lenora Celeste.
Lenora immediately stopped fussing and started playing with my jewelry as I looked down at my other niece and nephew. Clara Edith was only four, while Walter Clark was almost three.
Louisa had struggled to get pregnant with Clara, and she never expected to get pregnant again three more times in five years.
When Libby was born, she had her tubes tied. She decided against trusting her former advice that she was infertile.
Looking at my two older brothers, I finally sighed and bitterly said, “I understand your logic. However, despite this ordeal, Jean is an adult. She deserves to be a part of the conversation. And these children”—I motioned to Louisa’s children and back toward my mother’s room—“do not need to see us all resort to violence for humor.”
Jason went to open his mouth when Lily, his beautiful wife, arrived on our floor with Tom and Marisela in tow. Lily studied the scene, then narrowed her eyes at Jason. “What happened?”
He went to open his mouth, then immediately closed it as Lily stepped forward, standing half a head taller than him.
I realized at that moment that we were all shitty people. However, we either decided to be with people who enabled those destructive behaviors or attempted to correct them.
Lily and Robert were in the “correcting” group.
Lily turned to Marisela and Tomas and said softly, “I need to talk to your daddy. Can you both go with Auntie Brianna to see Grandma?”
I hesitated. Now was not the time to say I wasn’t going in there. Louisa motioned for the kids to follow her and her own like a mother goose. I smiled weakly as she walked on, and Lenora stayed with me, continuously saying, “Ball.”
Lily led Jason away to yell at him, and Matthew took the elevator to meet Glenda in the lobby. I was right; she was pregnant. I only knew because she texted me to tell me before my brother, because she was concerned he wouldn’t be happy. They still hadn’t told anyone else.
So, I was the keeper of the secret. Along with all the others I had accidentally accumulated over the years.
Yay, me.
When Lenora and I were alone in the hallway, it was peaceful. Lenora, with her nest of blonde hair and bright blue eyes, was like a doll. Clara, at her age, spoke constantly, but Lenora just watched. It was as if she saw value in silence instead of talking.
An hour passed as the other kids wandered back out. First, Marisela with Clara. Then Sol, Tom, and Walter. Finally, Aurora and Eddy. I looked over at them all, laughing, enjoying themselves, and being kind.
Loving one another.
I was proud of them all. This generation may be better.
Aurora nestled into my shoulder as we played with Lenora. The group talked about movies, television, video games, and school. I sat in the center of them all, simply listening.
Until a scream broke the conversation.
We all froze as the voice subsided, letting out a muffled, “No, no.”
Then, I could hear the clicks of heeled shoes against the tile.
A moment later, Louisa appeared, her eyes bloodshot.
“Mom had a heart attack, and they could not resuscitate her. She’s dead.”