Chapter Four #5
Tyler leaned against the counter and watched them dance around the kitchen in admiration.
She loved this version of them best. They moved around the shoebox kitchen as if they were one.
A smile etched across Maple’s face as Tyrell sprinkled kisses along her jawline, urging her to keep singing to him.
They were happy, and from the outside looking in, they were perfect, meant to be, and then his phone rang.
The singing stopped, the smiles faded, and Tyrell released Maple.
“Give me a second,” he pleaded, peddling out of the kitchen.
“Whatever,” Maple murmured, returning to the stove where her drink rested.
Picking it up, she took it to the head while trying not to choke on the ice.
Tyler watched her eyes fill with tears, and she wanted to comfort her, but they both knew that whenever Tyrell was with them, it was on borrowed time.
There was no need to coddle Maple’s feelings because this wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last. It only took Tyrell ten minutes before he re-entered the kitchen, only this time he was fully dressed.
No longer did he look like he belonged with them.
“Just leave, Tyrell! Just get the fuck out!” Maple yelled, storming out of the kitchen. Tyrell didn’t run after her. He didn’t have time because his pregnant wife wanted some pickle chips and he had been ‘hugging the block’ long enough, or at least that was the lie he told her.
“Take care of your mommy, Ty,” he pleaded, leaving her to pick up the pieces as always.
Shaking her head, Tyler forced the flashbacks of her past to the back of her mind.
She almost wanted to go wait in the car until the pills she had consumed kicked in, but her schedule was tight.
Carla was blowing up her phone about the studio, Darryl wanted to meet about her unsigned contract, and Dexter needed her to help him with a song.
A song she’d end up writing for him. Tyler wanted to ask him if she needed to rap the shit too, but to keep the peace, she told him to go to her studio session and she’d meet him there.
With a hood pulled over her head, Tyler entered the nursing home.
Brooks Adult Nursing Home was one of the most prestigious nursing homes in the Metro Detroit area.
Each resident had their own room equipped with a queen-size bed, full bathroom, mini refrigerator, TV, and a vanity set.
There was one nurse assigned to every three residents, making sure each person had the care they needed.
Brooks had a movie theater, bowling alley, swimming pool, and a three-mile walking trail that went around the building.
They offered sewing classes, cooking classes, and water aerobics.
There was also a shopping area that gave the residents a sense of responsibility, and they loved it.
With all of these amenities, the price tag was high, but worth every cent.
“Welcome back Ms. Davis. Go ahead and get signed in, your mother is in the activity room. She's in a mooooood today, so good luck.” The receptionist smiled warmly.
Great! Tyler thought. She’s in a mood, I’m in a mood, this should be a great fucking visit.
“Thanks!” Tyler gave a plastic smile before walking through the double doors.
Per usual, the facility was sparkling clean with a soft lemon aroma floating through the air.
A few residents sat in the hallway, some harassing the staff while others stared off into space.
Those were the people that Tyler felt bad for.
They seemed lifeless, and she wondered if they ever got visitors or if their families dropped them off and looked the other way.
Like an out of sight, out of mind situation.
Tyler tried to do it and she couldn’t. When she missed visits with her mother, Maple was still on her mind, and it ruined her day.
“There she is...the girl that sings,” Mr. Rogers, one of the residents, cheesed when he laid eyes on her. “What you singing for me today?”
Mr. Rogers was an Army veteran who fought in the war in Afghanistan.
He took pride in his missing leg, swearing he went out like a G.
Army service tried to give him a prosthetic, but Rogers declined.
He loved it when people asked him about his missing leg.
It gave him a reason to go down memory lane, detailing a story he’d told a million times.
Let Rogers tell it he put a bullet in several al-Qaeda members before they took his leg.
“What do you wanna hear, Mr. Rogers?” Tyler asked, stopping in front of him.
“Something by the one girl that pours water on her backside,” he grinned. “She does that lil shake thing, reminds me of the Ying Yang twins. You might be too young to know Shake it like a saltshaker.”
“Oop,” Nurse Hawkins snickered from behind the counter. “The girl is young enough to be your great-granddaughter.”
“But she’s not my great-granddaughter.” He shot her a look. “And who talking to you? Go chart something.”
“Be nice.” Tyler patted his shoulder. “And I’m not about to sing anything by Tyla, but I'll sing you some Aretha Franklin,” Tyler suggested.
“Don’t nobody wanna hear that old shit,” Mr. Rogers grumbled, wheeling himself down the hall. “Aye Gracie! Get a bottle of water and come to my room,” he hollered out to another resident.
“Girl, Mr. Rogers is going to be the death of me.” Nurse Hawkins shook her head, watching Gracie wobble behind him on her cane. “You feeling ok?” She zoomed in on Tyler’s glossy eyes.
“I’m fine.” Tyler turned her head, dodging the nurse's probing stare.
“Well, that’s good.” Nurse Hawkins cleared her throat. “Ms. Maple is in there sitting by the window. She might give you the cold shoulder, but you know how to get her to open up. Maybe she’ll eat something for you.”
“She’s not eating?”
“Not since yesterday at lunch.”
“Why didn’t anyone call me?”
“We tried, and we left a message with your aunt. I figured you were out of town.”
“Wait.” Tyler rubbed her temples. Another pill was definitely needed. “My number should be the only one on file.”
“Um, I apologize for the inconvenience, but your aunt switched the number when she came to visit a couple of months ago. We have her as the primary contact. She told us not to bother you with anything, to call her if we had a problem,” Nurse Hawkins explained.
“And if I’m being honest, when your aunt comes to visit, it sets your mother off and we have a hard time calming her down. ”
Tyler closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She didn’t know why Carla was visiting her mother, and furthermore, what possessed her to make changes when her name wasn’t listed on shit.
“All changes go through me. I am my mother’s guardian, and my aunt doesn’t have any say so. Please do not call my aunt concerning my mother.”
“I’ll make sure we get that noted.”
“Could you please have her food delivered and I'll make sure she eats.”
“Will do. Would you like anything?”
“Just a bottle of water, please.”
“Coming right up,” Nurse Hawkins replied, while making the necessary changes in the computer system.
Tyler made a mental note to confront her aunt.
She didn’t appreciate Carla making changes without her knowledge.
Tyler was very hands-on with her mother’s care and wanted to know everything as soon as it happened.
Finding out that Maple wasn’t eating bothered her.
Normally, when she stopped eating, it had something to do with her emotions, which explained why she was moody.
Stepping into the room, Tyler spotted her mother sitting by the window.
She was in her wheelchair with a blanket thrown across her lap.
A scarf covered her head, but Tyler could see her long braids sticking out the back.
From where she was standing, Tyler could see Maple’s fingers digging into her arms.
She’s irritated, Tyler thought, walking closer to her.
“Hey,” Tyler spoke softly, touching her shoulder.
“No touching,” Maple muttered, dropping her shoulder so Tyler’s hand fell off. “I don’t wanna play today,” she said, not recognizing Tyler as her daughter, but as the woman who often came to play with her.
“What’s wrong?”
“Everything!” Her childlike voice rose. “The tape broke, food nasty, and I peed in the bed,” Maple whispered the last part.
Her pretty brown face was flushed, and Tyler could see the stress lines in her forehead.
“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.
” Maple dug her nails into her arms. “I don’t know what to do,” she chanted.
“Hey, hey, don’t do that. Let me help you.” Tyler squatted in front of her, gently taking Maple's hand into hers. “Let me help, ok?”
“Ok,” she whispered.
The hammer that smashed into Maple’s head severely damaged her frontal lobe.
It ruined her ability to walk, talk, remember, and communicate her feelings.
Maple went from being a capable adult to a child in a matter of seconds.
It took years and thousands of dollars, but Maple learned how to walk and talk for the second time in her life.
Even then, she still had trouble walking and at times she stuttered.
Her memory was a different story. Maple didn’t remember anything about her former life, including the child she had given birth to.
Had the hammer been a couple of inches to the left, Tyler would’ve been mourning her mother’s death rather than watching her life slowly slip away.
Sometimes she didn’t know which one was worse.