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“I’m here, Ma.” I give her a nonanswer, trying not to alarm her or cause her reason to panic. The key is to keep her calm.
She pulls away after a few seconds, freeing herself from my overzealous hug. Looking at the paramedic beside her, she raises her chin and declares, “My son is an Army Ranger.”
The paramedic eyes me skeptically, her eyes searching my face for confirmation.
I lean closer and mouth the words, “I was.”
She nods, understanding clear in her compassionate eyes. Paramedics and law enforcement must see this sort of thing all the time.
“I need to take your blood pressure now, Mrs. Klein.”
My mother shrugs away from her.
“Ma, let the paramedic check you out. I’ll be right here.”
She lets go of my hand and looks at the paramedic in confusion. She blinks repeatedly and shakes her head softly. But instead of asking what’s happening or refusing, she dutifully extends her arm for the blood pressure cuff.
Even if she’s not entirely lucid, her gentle soul remains.
A uniformed patrol officer eases beside me. “Can we speak?” He inclines his head to the side, beckoning me to follow him.
I place a kiss on my mother’s forehead. “I’ll be right back, Ma.”
She smiles at me and nods.
Out of earshot of the others, the officer looks at me with an air of distrust— his brows furrowed, his lips tight, and his eyes discerning. “Are you the one who called 911?”
“Yes, sir. That’s my mother.”
“Okay, that explains why you didn’t answer my call a moment ago. So, tell me. How did you know she’d wandered off?”
“I have a tracker on her and get alerts when she leaves the perimeter.”
He nods, but I see something there. Behind his eyes. The judgment.
“Do you often leave her alone?”
There it is.
“Her neighbor usually visits her a few times each day to check on her. I stop by once a day too. And I have the tracker.”
“But she lives alone?” He raises his brows and tips his head at me, holding my gaze. He’s telegraphing my deepest fears and the harsh judgment I’ve already heaped on myself.
Or he’s considering arresting me for endangerment or neglect.
“Yeah, I know, sir. I’m trying to get that worked out. She’s never done this before. It’s not usually this bad.”
“Okay, good. I’m just glad she was okay this time. It’s not always a happy ending.”
“Noted, sir.”
With a quick tip of his chin, he conveys the rest of his message:Take better care of your mama.
After telling me he’s clearing the call and leaving it to the paramedics to decide whether she needs additional care, he walks away. On his way to his patrol car, he says something to my mother, and she smiles blankly. As he goes, he gives me another glare over his sunglasses.
I freaking get it, buddy. You’re coming in Lima Charlie.
The paramedic lets me take Ma home a few minutes later. She’s confused the entire drive, peppering me with questions about how my deployment was and how long I’ll be on leave.
