* * *
Doris Fendris had been a widow for six years. She had three children, none of whom lived in Sea Haven and only one of whom visited her on what could be considered a regular basis, which meant her daughter came approximately every six weeks on a Sunday. She called every other Sunday and talked to her mother for about fifteen minutes. Doris always looked forward to her calls and chatted with Seychelle about everything her daughter had to say.
Doris called Seychelle late Monday night in tears, saying she’d taken a fall and needed help. She didn’t want an ambulance, but could Seychelle come over? There was a part of Seychelle that knew better. She really did, but she went over anyway because she never could stop herself even when she knew the consequences. She had enough sense to park her car right in front of Doris’s house and hurry up the walkway to the retro pink door she found obnoxious but strangely Doris loved. It was unlocked, which was also all Doris.
The moment Seychelle walked in, pain hit her hard. Her head felt as if it had exploded, the pain vicious, swamping her. The pain was so severe, wholly encompassing, and it drove her to her knees. Her ankle buckled completely, and she went down to the floor. Seychelle pressed both fists to her chest over her wildly beating heart, took a deep breath and then dragged herself out the door. It was a full minute before she was able to stand on the porch and take several deep breaths before calling out to Doris.
“I’m here on the front porch. Doris, do you need an ambulance?”
The sound of sobbing greeted her query. It was loud and keening, tearing at Seychelle’s heartstrings. She took another deep breath and forced herself to step inside again. Seychelle had to fight to keep from vomiting. The pain in her head was that severe, her eyesight suddenly blurring.
She found Doris lying half in and half out of the living room, with the phone beside her on the floor. Tears poured down her face. She sat with her back to the couch, sobbing, pressing her hands to her temples as if trying to keep her head from coming apart. One leg was stretched out and the other tucked up under her.
“Migraine. Vicious. One of the worst I’ve had yet,” Doris managed to get out.
Seychelle didn’t need to be told. She felt the pain pounding through her head. There was no doubt it was going to take her down very soon. She ran her hands gently over Doris’s leg to search for damage. There was bruising on her calf and swelling on her ankle.
“You have to calm down and let me help you, Doris,” she said softly, trying to find composure herself in the midst of the storm. “Tell me what happened.”
“It’s my daughter,” Doris said, when she finally managed to speak after Seychelle had gotten her water and tissues. “She called and said her husband doesn’t like her coming so much, and she wants me to sell my house and move closer to her. Maybe into a home where someone caretakes me. She loves to visit and so do the kids, but he can’t be bothered, and it annoys him if she comes here alone, because she isn’t there to fix his dinners. She only comes once every six weeks, but she still chooses him over me.”
Another fresh flood of tears. “I won’t move there. I love it here. She knows that, and he won’t let her come see me anyway. How can she decide to stay with him?”
Doris began to cry again like her heart was breaking, and Seychelle knew that it was. Her sons lived several states away from their mother. She didn’t expect them to visit very often, but her daughter had always been her best friend, and she adored her grandchildren. She knew she wouldn’t see them anymore unless her daughter chose to leave her selfish husband.
The stress of the call had brought on the terrible migraine she had been subjected to on and off throughout her life. The vicious headaches came on fast, very severe, taking her vision and making her sick; the migraine had made her disoriented. Crying, she had twisted her ankle and fallen.
It took effort to get Doris off the floor, into her nightclothes and into bed. Seychelle made certain Doris took her migraine medication and drank plenty of water. All the while as she did so, Seychelle began to take on more of her pain. She drew it slowly from the older woman, afraid Doris would have a heart attack and die in the night from the stress of the choice her daughter had made.
The more Doris’s pain poured into her, the sicker it made Seychelle until, like when she’d first arrived, she could barely stand up. She doubled over beside the bed and then found herself on her knees. That sobered Doris up immediately. She leaned forward in the pristine white cotton gown that Seychelle had helped her into.