Molson had a crooked smile. “My brother is gonna arrest him for that and a whole lot more.”
Molson paused as he entered the ward. Margot was strapped into a chair by the window, vacantly looking outside. Her hair had been brushed and she looked clean in a pair of hospital pajamas. Ignoring the twist in his heart, Molson set down a bag of items he’d brought with him for Margot’s comfort. Pulling up a chair, Molson took one of her hands in his. “Hey Ma.”
She spared him a glance before looking out the window.
“You ignoring me?” Molson dredged up a bit of a smile. “I brought you some stuff. Your brush, toothpaste, a toothbrush, your pajamas, your slippers, a book if you get bored.”
“I don’t want a book,” she hissed. “I want to go home.”
“You can’t go home,” Molson’s smile slipped.
“You never let me do what I want,” Margot glared at him. “You’re mean.”
“Ma…” Molson pulled his hand away from hers, slumping in his chair. There was no reasoning with her when she got like this.
“Jana would never do this to me,” Margot said snidely. “You hate me. You had them lock me up.”
“That’s not true,” Molson defended himself. It wasn’t like she would hear and understand, more that he had to make the attempt for his own peace of mind. “I love you very much. I’ve been looking after you for the last four years. Jana hasn’t even been around.”
She had refused to come after Margot had insisted Cara was inhabited by an alien from Mars and needed to be covered in aluminum foil to protect the rest of them.
“Jana! Jana!” Margot yelled.
Molson pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ma, if you keep yelling the nurses will sedate you.”
“I don’t know who you are. Why are you calling me Ma? I’m not your mother,” Margot sniffed, looking out the window.
“I’m your son,” Molson patiently explained. He knew that Margot’s moods shifted like the weather. There was no point in trying to keep up. “Molson.”
“I don’t have any sons. I have a daughter Jana,” Margot insisted. “Jana is fun. She lets me dress her up like a princess. We go sledding in the park. I don’t know you. Go away.”
Molson ignored her, looking at the squirrels out the window.
“Hey,” a soft voice came.
Molson looked up to see Holly, pull up a chair. He spared a glance at Margot, but she was sleeping. “Hey.”
“I saw that she came in yesterday,” Holly had Margot’s chart.
Molson nodded. He’d been busy yesterday and concluded that since Margot was so sedated she would probably just sleep the whole time. Instead he’d come to visit her today.
“Where did she get the axe?” Holly asked him gently. She had heard through the grapevine what had happened prior to admitting.
“I don’t know. But she always finds them,” Molson said woodenly. He was exhausted by the whole business. “There might be cache of them in the basement that I haven’t found.”
“Don’t you take them away?” she softly pried, hoping that she wasn’t going to offend him.
“Every time I find one,” Molson sighed. “I throw them in the trash, I take them back to the hardware store, I list them for free on Craigslist. People think I have an axe and hatchet fetish. I don’t know where she gets them or how she has money to buy them, but she’s got to be on a first name business with some hardware store owner. I get rid of one, three days later she’s got another and is using it to beat on the walls, the floor or a chair.”
Holly gave him an assessing look. “You should go home and sleep.”
Molson had a bitter laugh. “They condemned the house.”
Holly looked at him in shock. How could they live in a house that was fit to be condemned? “Do you have someplace to stay?”
“There’s a room behind the shop,” Molson told her. “I’ve got some stuff there. There’s a couch.”
Holly reached out and took his hand. “What about your brother or sister? Can you stay with them?”
