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"The nerve of them coming here unannounced like that. It proves what I've been saying. What sort of decent young lady would just barge in on someone, huh? No sort," she replied.
"Stop it. Let them in," I demanded, and made my way toward the door.
She stepped between me and the door, her eyes narrowed, her shoulders hoisted like some bird of prey about to pounce.
"Don't you dare open this door and call to them. Don't you dare disobey me. In fact, you get yourself upstairs and into your room for being insolent. Go on," she said, pointing her honey finger at the staircase. "Go."
"No," I said, and she stepped forward and slapped me sharply across the face.
It took all my strength to keep from falling to the side, but I managed.
"Don't you dare say no to me. Don't you dare. Go on!" she screamed. "Get upstairs."
I glared at her a moment. How ugly and twisted she looked to me now. How could I ever have called her Mother? Maybe, I thought, if I get upstairs and into my room quickly enough, I could open the window and call to them. I went up as fast as I could, but by the time I got to the window, there was no sign of either of them. It brought tears of frustration to my eyes. I lay my forehead against the glass and sobbed. Then I heard my door click shut. I spun around just as Geraldine turned the key in the lock.
"You can't keep me a prisoner. I will have friends!" I shouted. "I will. I will," I sobbed.
Weak and tired, I sank slowly to the floor and leaned against the wall. I shut my eyes and in moments, I was asleep.
I woke in pitch darkness. The clouds had thickened all afternoon and now it was raining steadily, the drops pinging against the window, sounding like someone tapping her fingernails against the glass. A streak of lightning lit the room for an instant and I remembered where I was and what had happened. Struggling to my feet, I leaned on my crutches and made my way to the night table to turn on my lamp. Then I sat on the bed and gazed at the clock. It was nearly nine. She hadn't bothered calling me to dinner. It was probably her way of punishing me further for daring to defy her.
Anger boiled inside me. I could feel it popping bubbles like a tar pit. I'm going down those stairs, I decided, and I'm going to call Jade this minute and she can't stop me. If she strikes me again, hit her with my crutch. Fuming and refusing to be tired and defeated, I reached for the doorknob. Amazingly, it was unlocked.
I was surprised to see that there was no hall light on. It was too early for her to put the house to sleep, I thought. However, there wasn't even a light on above the stairs, something she insisted on having on in case she had to go downstairs for something during the night.
I found the switch and turned on the lights. Then I stood there, listening. It was deadly quiet, not a glass tinkling, no television or radio on. When I looked down the stairs, I saw that all the lights appeared to be off as well. Maybe she has gone to sleep already, I thought. Good. I didn't want to have to face her now anyway and I could call Jade without her knowing. I hated turning myself into a sneak, but it was her fault, not mine, I thought.
I started down the stairs, moving as quietly as I could, despite the crutches. However, the steps creaked. They were her steps, I thought, sentries reporting my whereabouts. I paused to listen, but I didn't hear her coming out of her room so I continued down. When I reached the bottom, I decided not to turn on any more lights.
I started down the corridor, barely permitting the crutches to tap on the floor. However, something unusual caught my attention as I started past the living room door. It was just a quick glimpse out of the corner of my right eye, but it made me hesitate. I listened again and then I returned to the doorway and peered into the living room.
A lamp was turned over on the table. Why? She would never permit such a thing, I thought, and stepped into the living room. I went to the standing lamp by the easy chair and turned it on. The light that lifted the darkness revealed her feet first. They were twisted and turned.
"Mother?" I edged forward. "Geraldine?"
When I came around the big coffee table, I saw her sprawled on her right side on the floor, an arm up against the side of the table, her face turned toward me, her jaw twisted as if she was trying to get something out from between her teeth, and her eyes wide-open but glassy.
For a moment I couldn't breathe; I couldn't move. I stared at her in disbelief.
"Mother?"
Slowly, with some difficulty, I lowered myself and reached for her hand. The moment I touched it, I knew she was gone. It was cold and the fingers were a little stiff. I drew my own hand back as if I had touched a hot stove, and gasped.
"Mother?"
My stomach felt as if it was doing flip-flops. I had to touch her again, to nudge her at the hip. Her body shook and her arm fell from the side of the table and hit the floor hard. Nothing else moved. She seemed to be staring angrily at me, accusing me. I could see her tongue was purple and her lips were blue.
"Oh, my God:' I cried, and struggled to get to my feet. Nervous and shaky, I fumbled with the crutches and actually fell backward before I recovered and stood up. I stared down at her. Panic had nailed my feet to the floor and even the thought of taking a step seemed impossible. Finally, I turned away. For a few moments I headed in one direction and then another, spinning, crying, calling out for help. I knew I should get right to the phone and dial 911, but something kept me from doing it. Instead, I wandered mindlessly up and down the corridor, into the kitchen to the small den, back to the corridor and even to the foot of the stairs. For a few seconds, I contemplated returning to my room and crawling into bed.
I was afraid to look at her again. I diverted my eyes every time I passed the living room doorway. Then I started for the front door. scream for help, I thought. I opened the door, but when I looked out at the night and the passing cars, I froze and stepped back, closing the door.
She's dead, I told myself. Geraldine's dead. Mother's dead. I'm all alone. How did she die? What happened to her? I thought I heard a sound from the rear of the house, the sound of the back door closing. Was it my father? Had he returned? Maybe he had been here and they had fought and he had hit her and killed her!
My blood turned to ice water. Once again, I couldn't move a muscle. I listened hard, but all I heard was the sound of the wind and some passing cars. Carefully, slowly, I made my way back to the kitchen and looked at the back door. It was shut tight and locked just the way she always kept it. No one could have gone out through it. That relieved me, but I was still shaking all over. What was I supposed to do? She was gone. I was alone.
Finally, I went to the phone, but not to call 911. Instead, I called Jade. She answered after only one ring.
"Hello."
