Chapter Sixteen Rosalynn
Chapter Sixteen
Rosalynn
Rosalynn inched out of the shower, gripping the wobbly railing and praying it would hold.
Her legs were on fire but she gritted through the pain long enough to tug on a loose nightgown.
Showering had sapped her last bit of energy, even with Dusty’s assistance, but she balked at asking her mother or Elsie to help.
She passed Dusty an extra treat.
At least they’d finally settled into their “suite” at the Magnolia Lodge.
The space had one room with two double beds.
The manager had assured them the bathroom met ADA standards.
He’d just bolted the shower’s handrail back onto the wall himself and promised a continental breakfast of honey buns and coffee in the morning.
While the mom part of her insisted she should join her daughter at the pool, every other inch of her cried out in pain and exhaustion. So she’d let Elsie go, for now, and taken comfort in having a quiet shower.
Since her accident, privacy was a big deal for Rosalynn.
She understood that at times she went overboard, a natural inclination made worse by her accident.
Just as she’d begun to hit puberty, her body had become the subject of endless medical procedures.
Physical therapy. Occupational therapy. So many people examined and touched her at a time she already felt her body wasn’t her own anymore.
Add to that the loss of control over even the most basic tasks, and she couldn’t stop herself from pushing away offers of assistance whenever possible. Heaven help the poor person who offered to bring her a glass of water, because she would bark back how she could do it herself.
“Brace,” she cued Dusty and maneuvered into her chair. The air whooshed from the gel cushion. Exhausted, she smoothed her silky caftan into place and motioned to the footrests. “Dusty, plate.”
Dusty perked up at his second favorite cue—he did so love working with his paws—and smacked each footrest down for her.
After, he stared at her with wide, concerned eyes and rested his head across her feet unasked, but so very needed.
The pressure eased the ache ever so slightly.
He was so in tune to her, the gift of his devotion humbled her sometimes.
Like today.
She felt like such a failure. As a daughter.
As a mom. But she couldn’t handle a confrontation with her daughter tonight.
A burst of anger surged through her at admitting defeat, that her body was fragile and sometimes slowed her down.
People liked to say she was strong. Mentally and emotionally she was. But some days her body wasn’t.
There would be time enough to talk tomorrow. Right now, she needed to get in bed and wait for the medications for muscle spasms and nerve pain to kick in so she could drift off to sleep.
“Dusty, tug.” She pointed to the fleece rope she’d tied to the handle of the bathroom door. He grabbed it in his mouth and pulled the door open.
She propelled the wheelchair into the main room, stopping by the closest of the two double beds, each covered in a green polyester spread. An identical print of a massive magnolia hung over both headboards in a nod to the motel’s name.
Her mother sat at the little table with her tablet open in front of her. Lillian never stopped working, whether for her family or her job.
Typing, she said, “Elsie’s still at the pool. I just checked on her, and if you look through that part in the curtains, you can see her FaceTiming with a friend.”
“Thanks, Mom,” she said as she maneuvered from the chair onto the bed, unable to stifle the grimace as she settled. She patted the space beside her. “Dusty, jump.”
He put a paw on the edge, then another, climbing up in that gentle way of his until he curled against her side. Her sweet, goofy boy.
Lillian shut down her tablet and tucked it into her embroidered bag that doubled as a briefcase. The picture charm swayed, like a pendulum counting down time. “Have you taken something for the neuropathy pain? And the muscle spasms?”
“Yes, Mother. I took gabapentin,” she answered, sagging back into the piled pillows. “And baclofen.”
Lillian steadied the charm, her hand lingering on that long-ago photo of her wedding, with Rosalynn holding a maid of honor bouquet of miniature roses. “One of the toughest parts about parenting is seeing your child in pain and not being able to help.”
Rosalynn’s gaze skated toward the window showcasing Elsie on a lounger with her cell phone. “I hope you realize how much I’ve noticed and appreciated your support over the years.”
“Even when I’m pushy?”
“Even then—mostly,” Rosalynn finished with a grin.
Her mother crossed to the bed and sat on the end. Lillian rested a hand on her daughter’s feet, a routine of theirs over the years. But she waited until Rosalynn nodded. She lifted Rosalynn’s calves onto her lap and began massaging carefully, just as she’d done countless times.
Still, guilt compelled her to say, “Mom, it’s okay. You don’t have to do this. I know you’re tired too—”
“I’m fine.” Her mother rubbed along the length of her calves and thighs in a phantom sensation Rosalynn could only detect in spots, but that still eased the neuropathy. “We’re there for each other. And, uh, maybe I’m trying to make up for the scene I caused in the parking lot.”
Rosalynn was just thankful no one had been hurt—or arrested. Her mother’s larger-than-life personality could be overwhelming, but the reaction had been over the top, even for Lillian.
“Are you okay, Mom? Did you get bad news?” She swallowed down the threat of tears. It couldn’t be time to say goodbye already? “We can leave now. If you’re worried about me, I could sleep while you drive. Uh, Elsie can even pull a shift.”
“We’ve both seen what teenagers can do on the road,” Lillian said, before they both snickered. “I promise you, we aren’t that desperate.”
“And about your call to the hospice facility?”
“There’s nothing big to share.” She turned her attention to the other leg, avoiding Rosalynn’s eyes. “Well, nothing unexpected. Just a long-shot idea for a treatment to buy us more time, but his health has deteriorated too much.”
“Oh, Mama, I am so sorry.” She walled off her own grief over losing him soon and focused on her mother’s pain.
“Nothing has changed. Not really. We’re still on the same timeline.” Her mouth went tight for a moment. “I know it’ll lift his spirits to see you and Elsie sooner than planned.”
“I’m sorry we haven’t traveled up there more.”
“You visited last month. You have a job. Elsie has school.” Lillian adjusted Rosalynn’s gown back over her legs. “Enough about things we can’t control.”
Rosalynn nodded and sank back deeper into the pillows. “About the incident in the parking lot . . . I could have fought that battle, you know. I’m not a teenager anymore.”
“But I’m still your mama.” She lifted Rosalynn’s hand and massaged, starting at the wrist.
“Of course you are.” Her battle for independence then had been fierce.
And in many ways, it had carried her through.
In others, though, she’d fought back against the very people who were in her corner.
“You’ve always been there for me, more than you ever should have had to be.
I realize it was a stressful time for you too, and I’m sorry for that. ”
“That wasn’t your fault.” Lillian pressed her thumbs into Rosalynn’s calloused palm.
The quiet of the motel space wrapped around her, reminiscent of so many other hotels during trips for dance competitions, then hospital rooms.
She didn’t remember the accident itself, which had occurred when she’d starred in a performance of The Nutcracker.
Her last memory before the fall? She’d soared through the air as Clara.
Pure joy, on a cellular level, had filled every corner of her body.
Her nerves had come to life with excitement. Then . . .
Nothing.
Until she’d regained consciousness in the hospital in a neck brace, unable to move her legs. Some would have said half her nerves were silenced, but to her twelve-year-old self, it had felt as though her whole world had dimmed.
Since Rosalynn was five years old, her entire life had been focused on dance classes and recitals.
Even her friendships were all born in that environment.
Her parents had devoted their lives to supporting her dream.
Her mother went from sitting outside lessons and rehearsals beaming with pride to sitting outside operating rooms and therapy offices with a rain cloud of worry.
After the accident, her days, weeks, months were filled with appointments and prescriptions. Relearning how to accomplish so many everyday tasks, like putting on her own socks and shifting into the shower.
How bittersweet that in the story where the Nutcracker Prince had been broken, real life had broken her.
In simple terms, she’d experienced an incomplete fracture in the lower lumbar region of her spine. Back then, she’d raged at the people who thought they were consoling her by noting it could have been worse.
Rosalynn tapped her temple. “Up here I understand the problems between you and Dad weren’t my fault.
But here . . .” She pressed a hand to her heart.
She’d been aware of the dreams her parents had shelved for her.
“I felt the strain on your marriage, from both of you working overtime to pay for all my lessons, then working even longer hours to cover my medical bills. As a kid, I believed I was responsible for the arguments.”
She hadn’t intended to confess that part, but the words fell out all the same, born of her worry for Elsie and her own divorce.
“Well, I hope you know that even during the stress, I enjoyed our time together. It’s been a long while since we had a sleepover.” Lillian tapped Rosalynn’s ring finger over the pale stripe where her wedding band had been. “I wish I’d been a bit less of a stage mom.”
“Mama,” Rosalynn said, flipping her palm to clasp hands and squeezing. “You couldn’t have stopped me from chasing that dream. I may not be as outspoken as you are, but I’m just as stubborn.”
“You come by it honestly,” Lillian said, but her tone was bittersweet.
“That, I do.” Rosalynn slid her hand from her mother’s. “Thanks for the foot rub and for the talk. Dusty can take over from here with some counterpressure.”
“Are you sure?” Lillian eased to her feet.
“Absolutely. I would appreciate it if you could persuade Elsie to come on in for the night.” Relinquishing control was tough, especially so close on the heels of Elsie’s painful rebuke.
But safety had to come first. “She’s been out there a long time.
Even being able to see her, I’m still nervous.
I’ve heard so many stories about people going missing during evacuations.
They get targeted from their posts online about being on the road and check-ins.
I try to watch the social media accounts of her and her friends, but it’s like that carnival game trying to whack them all.
The minute they realize an adult can see them, they go back underground with a new profile. ”
Just like her mother, she would put the walker through a million vehicles for her girl. Heaven help anyone who tried to hurt Elsie.
“Say no more. I understand.” Lillian slid on her sneakers and started toward the door. She pocketed the key card and turned off all the lights except a small lamp. “We’ll be quiet when we come back in. Sleep. Grammie’s got this.”
As the door clicked shut, Rosalynn didn’t doubt her mom for a moment—which was the problem. Her mother could so easily take over when it came to Elsie, and right now, with sleep dragging her under, Rosalynn didn’t have the energy to resist.