“April!”
I turn around and see Dr. Joseph Williams is standing behind me. Dr. Williams manages most of the patients on the memory care unit, and he’s been my mother’s doctor since even before she was admitted here. He was the one who helped me get her in here, and for that, I am eternally grateful. He’s an amazing doctor—smart and compassionate.
“Dr. Williams!” I cry. “I’m so glad you’re here! We were just going to start filming soon.”
Dr. Williams flashes me a smile. He’s in his early fifties and he always seems so in control of every situation. Whenever I see him standing there in his white coat, I feel comforted. “I knew that. Why do you think I came over here? I wouldn’t miss it.”
My cheeks flush with pride. Dr. Williams is so busy and so important, but he still gets a kick out of my internet show.
It takes me another half hour to get everything set up to start filming. I already have a no-bake cheesecake finished that I toss in a refrigerator. I’m not about to sit around here and wait for the cheesecake to be done. One of my secrets for filming is that I’ve always got a finished product already done before I start the show.
“All right, Mom,” I say to her. “The show is about to start. Are you ready?”
My mother looks up at me. For a moment, her eyes lose that glazed look and she’s her own old self again. She puts her hands on the table and struggles to her feet. “I’m ready.”
Here we go…
“Hello there!” I say as I look directly at the camera. “This is April from April’s Sweet Secrets. Today I’m at the nursing home with my wonderful mother, Janet Portland. She’s going to be helping me out today, right, Mom?”
She stares at me for a moment. There’s a little bit of drool in the corner of her mouth. She doesn’t look like she’s going to say anything. God, I hope she at least is willing to stir something in the mixing bowl.
“Anyway,” I say, “I’ve got a recipe for you today that—”
“April.” My mother’s cracked voice interrupts my monologue. “April is my daughter.”
I laugh and put my hand on her shoulder. “That’s right. I am.”
“April is my daughter,” she says. “And she is pure evil.”
Chapter 20
At my mother’s words, the smile instantly drops off my face. “Mom…”
But it’s like she doesn’t hear me. Her eyes stare straight at the camera, which I desperately want to shut off. But I’m frozen in place.
“She locked me in here.” The blinking red light ensures the camera is catching every moment of her little speech. Thank God we’re not live. “She trapped me here. I’m a prisoner.” Her gaze swivels so that her dark eyes are boring into me. Our small live audience seems frozen in shock as they watch this confrontation unfold. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”
The blood drains out of my face. “Mom, that’s not true.”
“You little ungrateful bitch!” she hisses at me.
And before I know what’s going on, she has lunged at me. I don’t know who is cutting my mother’s fingernails, but they are not doing a good job because I can feel her nails ripping through the skin of my neck. It goes on for about two seconds before I feel her being pulled off of me by Dr. Williams and a nurse.
I collapse against the table, breathing hard. It takes three nurses to restrain my mother, who is screaming at the top of her lungs. “Let me go! Let! Me! Go! I want to get out of here! I shouldn’t be here!”
I watch as they pull her away and bring her back to her room. Peggy and Dr. Williams follow down the hallway, but I stay put. I don’t want to go anywhere near her right now.
My heart won’t stop pounding. I gingerly touch my neck and when I pull my fingers away, there’s blood on my hands. Well, at least she didn’t bite me. But my hands won’t stop shaking. How could she have said those things to me? Whatever medications she’s getting, they’re not doing the trick.
After about ten minutes, Peggy and Dr. Williams come out of the room to talk to me. I’ve just been sitting at the table, gorging myself on the no-bake cheesecake I brought. It’s pretty clear we’re not going to be able to film anything today.
“We have her restrained,” Peggy says tightly. “But she’s still very upset.”
“Of course she’s upset,” Dr. Williams says in that calm, controlled voice. “She’s incredibly confused and understandably wants to go home. It’s very common to feel that way with her level of dementia.” He furrows his brow. “We had to give her some IM Haldol and Ativan.”
I don’t know much about psychiatric meds, but I know those are pretty serious ones.
“I feel so bad about this.” I wring my hands together. “I so wish we could take her home. Maybe she’d be happier there.…”
“Right, but what would you do if she had an episode like this?” Dr. Williams folds his arms across his chest. “She could harm you or your family. This is the best thing for her, April. You know it is.”
“I guess…”
“It is,” he insists. “She’s going to have occasional episodes like this, but in general, she’s happy here. She can socialize with people like herself.”
“Maybe…”
We all look at the doorway to my mother’s room. The screaming seems to have stopped. At least for the moment.
“Can I go in?” I ask. “I want to talk to her.”
Dr. Williams puts his hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have to. And you should get your neck cleaned up. One of the nurses can get you a Band-Aid.”
“I want to make sure she’s okay,” I say. “Please.”
Finally, he nods. “Go ahead. But she’s probably going to be pretty sedated.”
My legs feel wobbly as I walk down the hallway to my mother’s private room. They’ve shut off the lights in the room in an attempt to get her to quiet down. But even through the darkness, I can see both wrists are strapped to the bedrails.
Her eyes crack open. They’re very bloodshot. “April,” she croaks.
“I’m here, Mom,” I say in a loud voice to make sure she can hear me. “I’m here for you. I’m always here for you.”
“April, please.” As opposed to the angry voice she used on camera, her voice is now a pleading whisper. “Please get me out of here. I don’t want to be in this place anymore.”
“I’m so sorry…”
“I don’t have to live with you.” Her words are coming out slurred. “I… I could get my own place. Somewhere far away. You’d never even have to see me. I wouldn’t bother you. I promise.”
Tears well up in my eyes. I remember how my mother used to walk me to the bus stop every single morning for school. My little hand would get swallowed up by her bigger hand, and I would feel so safe and secure. I just need her to be safe like that. But she doesn’t understand.
“I’m sorry, Mom.” I wipe the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand. “You have to stay here. It’s the best thing.”