Say You'll Remember Me(45)

“He wouldn’t leave me,” she said. “You told him to go!”

“Nobody did that,” Grandma said, calmly pouring cream in Mom’s cup. “He’s coming.”

Mom was still breathing heavily, but she nodded, looking unsure. Grandma got her to take some eggs and she settled down.

Once Mom was eating, I opened my laptop. A few minutes later my siblings wandered in. Tristan ignored me and spooned chilaquiles onto his plate while Jeneva poured herself coffee. She leaned on the counter and nodded at my screen. “Why are you on LendingTree?”

“Just asking for a quote,” I said, typing in the email address I found.

“For what?” Grandma asked, running water over her pan.

“For an asshole who likes to drown puppies.”

Grandma made a disgusted sound and Tristan glanced at me.

“Are you serious?” my sister asked. “Who would do that?”

“This guy Xavier told me about. I found his email address online. Took me a few weeks because I had to make sure it was him. He’s about to get a million lender quotes in his inbox for the rest of his life.” I hit send. “He will never know peace again.”

“Gross,” she said. “Give me his info.”

“Why?”

“I’ll sign him up for political texts.”

“Ohhhh, I like that,” I said.

“Send it to me too,” Tristan said, his tone bored. “I’ll get him audited by the IRS.”

I pulled my face back. “How?”

“Don’t worry about it. Do you want him audited or not?”

“Yeah…”

He tore the top off the French bread Grandma had sitting on the counter, hollowed out the middle with his bare hand, stuffed the whole thing with chilaquiles, gave me the finger, and left.

I rolled my eyes and turned back to my sister.

“How long is he going to be like this?” I asked.

“Life?”

The kids ran through the kitchen chasing each other and careened around the corner into the den. “Boys! Slow down!” she shouted.

They ignored her. Jeneva looked wearily at the direction they went.

I needed to help get them out of the house more. She was another one who didn’t get a break. Maybe I’d take them to the aquarium this time, though it wouldn’t be as fun without Xavier.

The boys had been asking about him. He’d made an impression.

He’d made an impression on me too.

I heard a sniffle and I glanced over. Mom had started crying.

I dipped my head. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I want Dan,” she said pitifully.

I put a hand on her arm. “Awwww. He’s just at the gym. He’ll be home soon.”

She shook her head. “No. I want Dan!”

“Mom, he’ll be back—”

“NO!” She swatted my hand off her. “You told him to leave! You ran him off!”

“Mom…”

She swiped her plate and mug off the counter.

The room collectively gasped.

“Lisa!” Grandma said. “What is going on?”

Mom clawed at her bib. “Dan! DAN!!!!”

She stood up and started clotheslining everything she could reach. The plate of eggs, the coffee maker, the bowl of fruit, salt and pepper shakers, the hot sauce. I sprang into action before she got to the knives.

“Mom!”

I went behind her and bear-hugged her like Xavier did the night in the yard. She struggled against me, sobbing.

“Get her something!” I shouted. “Don’t we have medication for this?”

Tristan ran up the stairs. “What the—”

“HELP!” I said.

Grandma was already digging in the cabinet.

My brother and sister helped me wrestle Mom back into her chair as Grandma put a crushed Ativan into a shot glass and poured orange juice over it.

“Here. Come on, baby, take it,” Grandma pleaded.

Mom shook her head, thrashing.

The boys were huddled in the doorway, terrified.

I couldn’t believe how strong she was. I was getting tired and I had two other people helping me. She wasn’t stopping, just getting more frantic.

I tried to calm her like Xavier did. I whispered in her ear and held her as tight as I could. She was inconsolable. She wouldn’t take the pill, and she was screaming for my dad. We tried for almost ten minutes.

Grandma was panting, Mom was hysterical, the boys were sobbing, my arms were shaking.

“What do we do?” Grandma said.

I looked her in the eye. “You call 911.”





By the time we got home from the hospital it was almost two. Dad met us at the ER and we all drove home together.

Mom was staying overnight for observation to make sure she hadn’t sprained or hurt anything when she was having her meltdown. Mostly we’d opted to have her stay so we could recover too. Every one of us had been crying. Grandma was so shaken she took the orange juice shot of Ativan she’d poured for Mom and went upstairs to lay down. Dad hadn’t spoken one word since the emergency room.

They said this was normal. To be expected even. These emotional outbursts and violent tantrums were just part of the progression.