Daffodils!
My heart turned over. This was a sign, like when Phoebe onFriendssaw the franks and burger and knew she had to see her dad!
I reached over the rail between our porches to touch one of the blooms. Everything about the smells and color and feathery softness made my body wash over with contentment and peace, completely the opposite of what Mother told me about the woman who lived there.
My distrust of her inched up another notch.
But now we were alone. I had no nurses, no social worker, and no Tucker to help me.
I gripped the red pillow with its secret inside. I hadn’t dared to take the phone out while at the hospital. Carrying the pillow into the bathroom would have seemed strange, and Mother watched my every move. I would have to wait until late at night, when Mother slept. It would take time to figure out how to use it.
The door opened to a room not much larger than the one at the hospital. It was furnished like the places I saw on television. A sofa with a low table in front. A set of shelves with books and folders stacked inside.
A small television sat on a stand on the back wall. I headed straight for it. It was the one familiar thing.
Mother shut the door. “Don’t assume you’ll be able to watch those horrible shows here. No cable. No antenna. We have a few movies, though. You’ve always liked them.”
Movies? I wanted to ask her what they were, but I was too eager to see the rest of my house. I set down the suitcase and walked through another open doorway.
Here was a kitchen with a small table and chairs, cabinets, a sink, stove, and refrigerator. I recognized the function of most everything, other than a few strange metal objects on the counter. I lifted one, pushing down on a lever. The metal grew hot and I dropped it back to the counter with a clang.
“You forgot the toaster this time?” Mother asked, lifting the lever so that it popped back into place.
Right. Toaster.
“Do I usually remember it?”
“I bought this one recently.”
I wanted to ask her more, but I didn’t trust the answers.
A friendly man had come to my hospital room,showing me pictures of everyday objects and asking me to recite sentences and strings of numbers. He’d explained about the different types of memory and how they were stored in the brain. But I couldn’t keep up with all the thoughts and ideas.
I wished I could talk to him again. Now that I was someplace I ought to know, I had so many questions. Why did I recognize the refrigerator but not the toaster? Why did I know what some things were for, like spoons, but not others, like shoelaces? I’d had no idea how to tie them when we left.
“Your bedroom is down the hall,” Mother said. “The one with the pink bedspread. Take your suitcase. I’ll make some tea.”
She opened a cabinet and removed a small box that read,Black tea.
Good. She’d be busy, and I could look around on my own.
I returned to the first room and picked up my suitcase. Another opening sent me into a short hall. There were three doors.
The first room had a green bedspread, a dresser, and a table in the corner. I could tell it was Mother’s by the muted tones. The air smelled like her.
The second room was a bathroom, much smaller than the one in the hospital.
The third room held a narrow bed covered in a pink blanket. A small white dresser sat on the side wall, next to the closet door.
I breathed in. I couldn’t describe the scent of it, but it felt right. I set down the suitcase and turned to the wall behind me.
Flowers. So many flowers. They covered every inch,floor to ceiling. Pink ones. Red ones. White ones. Orange. Purple. Blue. All had green stems and leaves.
I touched one.
Paper.
The paper flowers.
