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Elaine and I ate buffalo wings, nachos and cheese, chips and dip while we discussed the memoir which would keep Mama financially safe if I went to prison. The book would easily be worth half a million dollars. We decided that Elaine would rent a post office box and I would send daily updates on the case to her there. She would start searching for a superstar crime writer to cover the trial. If I were convicted, New York’s Son of Sam law would prevent me from making money, so it would then become my mother’s story “as told to” the superstar writer. Elaine would walk Mama through the publishing process until the money was safe in the bank. Although I asked her to report any news she heard on the case back to me, Elaine made it clear that she would not do it.
“I won’t become part of the story,” she said, “unless I overhear the real killer confess to the crime.”
In the end, we handwrote an agreement that I would not take the project to another editor.
I kissed her cheek at the door.
She winked at me and walked out.
I had forgotten to ask Keith about going to see my mama but I needed to do it, no matter how many reporters were perched on her stoop. There was no one outside when the cab pulled up in front of her building—perhaps the interview she’d given was enough to feed them for a while.
She hugged me like I’d just been released from Leavenworth before snatching Elaine’s fruit basket from my hand. “Oh, Jackie, you spent too much money!”
I hung my coat up in the living room closet, “No, I didn’t. A friend of mine gave it to me.”
Mama placed the basket on her kitchen countertop and ripped the plastic covering off it. “Look at this! My, ain’t this somethin’,” she crowed.
“I brought you some money, too. It should be time to fill your prescriptions again, right?”
She hesitated in a way I didn’t like. “Jackie, you can’t afford to do that anymore. I’ll be okay.”
“Don’t be silly,” I said. “Do you have anything cold to drink? I’m thirsty.” I opened the refrigerator and there was only a jar of mayonnaise, two leftover pork chops, and a dozen eggs.
“I haven’t had time to go shopping,” she said.
It was amazing how the events of the last few weeks had changed me. I could smell the lie as it came out of her mouth. “I don’t believe you.”
She took an apple from the basket and bit it. “Girl, I know you done lost your mind. How you gonna stand there and call your own mother a liar?”
“Mama, I have never seen you eat a piece of fruit without washing it first. You’re hungry, and I want to know why.”
“If I’m hungry, it’s because that Weight Watchers group I’m in is real strict.”
“Really?” I placed my hands on my hips. “I’m going across the hall right now and talk to Elvira about this group.”
“No!”
“Why not?”
She said nothing, so I marched to the door.
“Please don’t.”
My hand was on the knob. “Why? Because you’ve never been to Weight Watchers and Elvira won’t know what I’m talking about, will she?”
The apple went down on the counter. “No.”
Then Mama was slumped on the sofa, crying into her hands. I sat bewildered, with one arm around her thin shoulders. “What is it, Mama? Is there some gang in the building taking your money?”
She shook her head and took a deep breath to get control of herself. “There ain’t no gang, baby. My medicine started goin’ up months ago. I tried takin’ it every other day, but then I didn’t feel good so I went to half a pill every day and things got worse. So now I buy what I’m supposed to buy and there just ain’t no money left over to buy a lot of food.”
This was truly baffling. I paid Mama’s rent, utilities, and gave her $200 a month for food and medicine. “What are you talking about?”
“Come here.” She took me by the hand and led me into the bedroom. She kept her prescription bottles in a nightstand drawer. “This,” she said, holding up one slim bottle, “is Vasotec for my high blood pressure . . . thirty pills cost $100.” She picked up a fat vial. “This is Ultracet that I gotta take for arthritis . . . ninety pills cost $150 now.”
There was one last container. A fat bottle of green pills called Cardizem CD. “How much are these?”
“Those are for my arthritis, too. They cost $135 for only sixty pills.”
