Chapter 21

“I see that Louisa left early. I assume that mother is throwing a titanic tantrum again?” Nicola said.

“Yes,” Mikel said, trying to convey confirmation for her observation while attempting not to say anything more. He worked hard to keep the grimace off his face. He was constantly aware of the safety this household provided, but still, the drama was getting old quickly.

“What you’re not saying is that Poppy is my responsibility tonight.” Her hip was cocked as was her head in the opposite direction.

“Yep.”

“If you don’t want me to throw my own tantrum, modeled, imitated, and perfected on my mother’s, then you are going to help me. When you see her and take care of her, it’s not even a task like changing an adult diaper, it’s the lack of humanity that stares back at you. To look at her hurts, you know?”

“I don’t know yet, but I will help you,” Mikel said, wanting nothing else than to walk out the front door.

“The only good thing about today is that when the end comes, Poppy will be out of her misery,” Nicola said as a matter of fact. “Her suffering ends and she can be at peace.”

“Your mother too; the guilt comes to an end.” The conversation was making Mikel uncomfortable.

“O please, I’m praying mightily there is an ever-raging Hell and Dante is guilty of understatement. There is a special pit with her name on it, empty and waiting for her. What’s for dinner?”

They ate in silence. Mikel shoveled in his food to cover his anxiety while Nicola scrolled through her social media on her mobile. While he scooped the leftovers into a container and began placing dishes in the dishwasher, Nicola carried a tray of food upstairs to leave in front of her mother’s door and took a second bowl for her sister. Apparently, she could feed herself with her hands.

When Nicola came down with the empty bowl and handed it to Mikel, he asked, “How does this work?”

Nicola sighed, glancing at the kitchen clock. “We give it about an hour, and she will have filled her diaper. After we clean her up, we give her the goodnight gift she wants. She will go to sleep. If she doesn’t get her gift, she will pitch a fit and carry on until she gets it.”

Mikel sat in the family room scrolling through emails as he tried to not watch the clock. “Dear Corrigan, The man I married ten years ago was bright, funny, and enthusiastic about life. In the intervening years he has changed. He has ballooned in size to far over three hundred pounds, become pre-diabetic, and dull to the world. We can only have sex if I’m on top and even then, he gets out of breath easily. He does not have any glandular issues and sadly, he did this to himself. I’ve tried everything. I’m ready to leave but the guilt is killing me. What do I do? -Guilty As Charged.”

“Dear Charged, The man you fell in love with is gone as is the young woman of that time and place. This set of circumstances needs to be reframed. Your husband is killing himself, although the clues to his troubles are ever present for him to see. The better question to ask is, what can you do to help him save himself? If leaving him is his last best chance to save himself, then you must leave. Love means giving the gift of life. He may not take it and continue his downward spiral, but you will have given him your damnedest. Yes, leaving will hurt him and you. However, if your leaving forces him to save his life, then you will have given him everything. -Corrigan”

“The column has a dick in it,” he prefaced his email to Ned. “Stay safe,” he wrote, feeling guilty himself as he typed it. He glanced at the time and saw the hour had come and gone. Pinching his lips, he rose from his chair and headed towards the stairs.

Knocking on the door frame, he asked, “Is it time?”

Nicola rose without saying a word. She brushed past him with a waggle of her fingers, instructing him to follow. They continued down the hallway to a final door on the right. Placing her hands on the door handle, she squeezed shut her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. She pushed down the handle, slowly opening the door.

The antiseptic smell hit Mikel’s nose like a freight train. Blinking his eyes in an attempt to flush the slight burn in the air from his eyes, his first impression of the room was a blurry tableau of blocky objects. Steeling himself, he opened his eyes.

To his right was a hospital bed with a body in it, partially covered. There was a glass fronted cabinet at his right elbow with medical supplies in it and a white laminate chest of drawers next to it. In the far corner to his left was a hospital grade reclining chair with belts and straps. The shades were pulled down and the walls were bare.

He watched Nicola draw down the sheet and begin undoing the diaper. “Your parents don’t have twenty-four hour care because...?”

“Daddy said it was too expensive, even for us, and Mother said she can’t find overnight help that does not cost an arm and a leg. You don’t see her here helping, do you? Don’t hold your breath because she isn’t coming in to help.”

“Nuh, nuh,” the woman in the bed said, wiggling her hips.

“See, she is already asking for her gift,” Nicola said. “If you would help, pull a new pee mat from the second drawer of the chest. Put on gloves first.”