Part 13 (1/2)
Serenity looked at him, bewildered by his approval, especially since she'd called him an addict right before they'd left for Milwaukee that afternoon. Maybe he'd spoken up because he was tired of hearing her whine or maybe he actually wanted her to go-she couldn't decide. She looked at her mother. ”Please,” she whispered.
”Well,” Tia said after she shot an angry look at Lorenzo, ”we'll have to go to the 8:00 service.”
”Yay!” Serenity yelled.
Lorenzo turned the volume up on the television set. ”Can y'all quiet it down?”
Tia ignored his request as she pulled her cell phone out of her purse. ”Don't be too quick to yell 'yay',” she said. ”I also have to work on that day.” She walked into the kitchen. ”Let me see if I can switch s.h.i.+fts with somebody.”
A few minutes later Tia ended her call. She turned around and jumped, startled to find Serenity standing right behind her. ”Okay,” she said, ”I got somebody to switch s.h.i.+fts with me.” She looked toward the living room where Lorenzo still sat on the couch. ”Now, you can yell 'yay'.”
”Yay!” Serenity yelled.
Chapter Twenty-three.
Homer roamed through the empty rooms of his house holding his cell phone to his ear. Franny was on the other end updating him about her condition. He didn't really care, but he listened anyway.
”They tell me I had a heart attack,” Franny said, ”but I'm stable now.”
Homer sighed heavily and rolled his eyes.
”I was on a medical floor,” she continued, ”and then they s.h.i.+pped me right on back to where I was before all this happened; the same room and everything.”
Homer remained silent. He knew what she was leading up to, and his mind fluctuated between whether he should let her stay with him when she asked.
”I'm being discharged today.” Her statement lingered in the air like unsettled particles of dust. Homer stopped pacing the floor.
Franny didn't want to ask him again, but it was too cold to sleep in her car. Her only other option was to stay in a shelter, but that would have to be her last option. She put aside her pride once more.
”I know you said you didn't have the room,” she said slowly, ”but it would only be for two months. I'm still on that waiting list.”
Even though Homer believed Franny had forfeited her relations.h.i.+p with him by reason of default, he changed his mind and decided to let her stay with him.
”Well,” he said slowly, ”since Sandra's not here . . .”
”Oh? Is she on vacation?” Franny asked.
”No,” Homer said quickly. ”She left.”
”Is she coming back?” Franny asked quietly.
”I don't think so,” he said coldly.
”I'm sorry to hear that, Homer.”
”So you said two months, right?” he asked, ignoring her condolences.
”Two months,” she rea.s.sured him.
He hesitated before answering. ”All right,” he said slowly.
”Thank you,” Franny said, appreciative of what she thought was her son's change of heart.
But Homer's decision had nothing to do with his heart. He had his own agenda, and this time, things were going to go his way. Once he brought his mother home, he was going to make her admit to the real reason why she'd abandoned him. He wasn't going to allow her to leave him again with unanswered questions.
”What time are you being discharged?”
”They tell me I'll be able to leave anytime between one and two o'clock,” she said.
”I'll be there around one thirty.”
”Okay,” Franny said but Homer had already hung up the phone.
Several hours later, Homer pulled his car into one of the patient pickup spots in front of the hospital. He turned on his flashers and got out of the car. It had been two years since he'd last seen his mother. He walked through the sliding doors and stopped at the information desk. A young woman who appeared to be in her early twenties addressed him. ”Can I help you?” she said.
Homer stared at her. Her youthful voice and vibrant appearance distracted him.
”Can I help you?” she asked again.
He blinked. ”What room is my mother in?”
The receptionist looked at Homer as if he were crazy. ”Who is your mother?”
”Oh, I'm sorry,” Homer chuckled. ”Francis Woodard.”
The receptionist looked at the computer as she moved the mouse slightly on the pad before clicking it several times. ”Room 523,” she said without smiling.
As Homer rode the elevator up to the fifth floor, he wondered how it would feel to see his mother again.
He walked down the long corridor and found the door to room 523 ajar. He entered without knocking, and saw Franny sitting on the side of the bed listening to the nurse finalize her discharge instructions.
She had aged considerably since he'd last seen her, and she was almost unrecognizable to him. Her hair was now completely gray and stopped just at the base of her neck. The pa.s.sing of time had altered his perception of how she would look, and her short and frail appearance was completely opposite of the image he'd had in his mind.
Franny saw him enter the room and tried to smile, but the hostile look in his eyes stopped her. She returned her focus to the nurse who continued going over the discharge instructions with her.
Homer fixed his eyes on the nurse's back and tilted his head to the side. There was something familiar about her stance and the sound of her voice.
”Do you have any questions, Ms. Woodard?” the nurse asked.
”No, ma'am, I don't,” Franny said softly. She looked past her shoulder and pointed to Homer. ”My son's here now to pick me up.”