Chapter Four #6
“Can she hear me?” Tyler whispered, standing next to Maple’s bed.
Tubes were coming from her nose and mouth, needles in the side of her neck and all up her arm.
The sight made Tyler’s stomach churn, and the uncertainty of Maple’s situation made her sick.
Every time a doctor walked in the room, they gave her a sympathetic look, and Tyler hated it.
She didn’t need them to feel sorry for her.
What Tyler needed was for her mother to wake up and take care of her.
Staying in a group home was horrible. The food sucked, the kids were mean, and she had to sleep on a pullout sofa.
“Yes,” the nurse responded with a warm smile. “It might give her the strength to wake up and talk back.” She patted Tyler’s back before leaving the room. The nurse knew she was giving Tyler false hope, but the little girl standing in front of her was broken and needed to hear some good news.
Moving closer to the edge of the bed, Tyler picked up Maple’s hand and placed her palm to her cheek.
She couldn’t form the words to tell her mother how life was so messed up, so she started singing.
Tyler’s eyes were closed, and the soft voice that slipped from her lips captured the attention of everyone walking by.
Before long, there was a crowd of people standing by the door with tears rolling down their faces.
Their heart went out to the broken girl with the beautiful voice.
“Ok, let’s start with food. What do you want to eat?” Tyler asked, wiping the tears that slipped from her eyes.
“Chicken nuggets,” Maple whispered. “The ones that look like a dinosaur. The ones we had last time.”
“Ok, I can do that.”
“How? You have money to buy them?” Maple’s eyes bulged. “We can’t have real money. Just this fake money for when we go to the stores at the end of the hall. I don’t know if you can buy chicken nuggets with fake money though,” she sighed.
“I have real money,” Tyler assured her, pulling out her phone. She started texting Aria a list of things to order and have delivered to the nursing home. “What else do you want?”
“I want cheese popcorn and sour patches too. ‘Member last time,” Maple gasped. “So many popcorn, some many gummy worms and fish,” she beamed, clapping her hands together like an uncoordinated toddler.
“I went home with a stomachache,” Tyler joked, looking up from her phone.
“Yuck,” Maple gagged. “You my friend?”
Her friend. The last time Tyler tried to explain that she was her mother, Maple flipped out and ended up having a mini stroke.
She was hospitalized for two weeks, and when she was released, Maple didn’t want anything to do with Tyler.
Whenever she came around, Maple refused to look at her, let alone spend time with her.
As devastating as it was, Tyler learned her lesson and only referred to herself as Maple’s friend, nothing more.
“Your best friend,” Tyler promised, sticking her pinky out.
With a goofy grin on her face, Maple mimicked the move, locking her pinky with Tyler’s.
“Now tell me, what movie won’t work?”
“The orange tape,” Maple pouted. “They said I watched it too many times.”
“Ok, I’ll see what I can do about that.”
“Really?”
“Yep!” Tyler smiled.
For hours, the mother-daughter duo talked about all the new songs on Gracie’s Corner, laughed at SpongeBob and Patrick's dumb adventures, made friendship bracelets, and feasted on chicken nuggets and popcorn. Maple allowed Tyler to comb her hair but made her promise not to touch the dent on the side of her head with no hair. She called it a boo boo and said it hurt when people made loud noises. Tyler promised Maple that she’d bring her some noise-canceling headphones and she nearly jumped for joy.
The conversation about her bed incident forced Maple to cover her face in embarrassment.
She acted as if Tyler hadn’t helped her change clothes on more occasions than she could count.
As if before the accident, Tyler hadn’t cleaned up her vomit after she passed out.
Knowing that Maple wouldn’t remember, Tyler told her that accidents happened and suggested she stop drinking after seven.
Like a child, the suggestion made Maple roll her eyes and sigh loudly.
She loved sneaking midnight sips of juice, so stopping at seven wasn’t an option.
“Did you know I can sing?” Maple asked, pushing a piece of popcorn across the table.
“You can?” Tyler feigned surprise as if she’d never heard her sing, as if her voice wasn’t a staple in her mind, as if the same voice hadn’t been passed down to her.
“Uh-huh. I mostly sing the songs on Gracie’s Corner ‘cause they my favorite, but-” she looked around as if she was sneaking. “But I like grown-up songs too. My nurse listens to them when she think I’m sleep.”
“Which song?”
“Um, I don’t know the name and I forgot the words, but I can hum it a little.” Her eyes lit up.
“Ok, let’s hear it.” Tyler sat up.
Instantly, Maple started humming He’s Mine. Tyler smiled. She took note of her lax shoulders and the smile on her lips. Maple was happy and even her hums sounded beautiful. Even in her childlike state, she was singing about another woman’s man.
“He’s mine, you might’ve had him once, but I got him all the time,” Tyler sang the words Maple searched for.
“You can sing!” Her eyes bucked.
“A little.”
“Do it again, sing with me,” Maple pleaded, and for a quick minute, Tyler’s heart skipped a beat.
This version of her mother didn’t know her from a can of paint, but somewhere deep down, Tyler wanted to believe that Maple’s subconscious knew exactly who she was.
It was probably the only thing that kept her sane.
She prayed that one day Maple would snap out of it and hug her.
A hug that she desperately needed. A hug that only a mother could give.
“Ain’t this bout a blimp. You don’t wanna sing to me, but you in here singing about being a side chick,” Mr. Rogers rolled to the door talking smack. “And here I was thinking you were one of the good ones.” He wheeled away, shaking his head.
Tyler left the nursing home feeling heavier than when she went in.
The moment she slid into her front seat, she was reaching for the mint can in her purse.
Without thought, Tyler popped two pills in her mouth and blinked away the tears threatening to fall from her eyes.
Not even two seconds later, her phone was ringing.
“Hello,” she answered.
“Damn, where you at? I’m at the studio,” Dexter’s voice blurted through the speaker.
“I was visiting my mom.”
“And that took all morning? I told you I had shit to do.”
Closing her eyes, Tyler counted down from five before she replied. Dexter didn’t bother asking her how the visit went, and she didn’t expect him to. He never asked, and she never said anything about it.
“I’m on my way.”
“Hurry up and have Aria pick up a couple of bottles.”
“No, tell Tilly or whoever is there to go get bottles. She’s my assistant, not yours.” Tyler ended the call.