“I was talking to her about college. Then, she was just...unresponsive,” I explained. Somehow, saying those words took me back to that dreaded moment. I hoped I’d never have to repeat the story again.
“We tried to wake her,” Jazzy picked up, “but she was out. So we called an ambulance and—”
Cousin Glory Jean interrupted, “What had she been eating?”
I shrugged. “Just regular things, like she always does.”
“Y’all ain’t overfeedin’ her a bunch of junk lately, are you?” she clipped out, accusation lacing her words.
Jazzy reared her neck and swayed to one side. I knew my sister well. She was about to tell Cousin Glory Jean she had no right to question what we were feeding Big for the last two days on account of whatever she had been feeding Poochie all her life. I put a hand on Jazzy’s arm and jumped into the conversation.
“She eats like she always has,” I clarified. “Nothing’s changed.”
“Uh hum. She under more stress?” Cousin Glory Jean probed, narrowing her eyes.
“Not any more than usual,” Jazzy said.
Kirstie returned, half-dragging and half-pulling a heavy, wide bench. I rushed over to hold open the door.
“Thank you,” Kirstie said as she pushed the bench under the television, the only open space left in the room that might allow Poochie to sit comfortably.
“No, thankyou,” I said, knowing my tone held a lot of admiration for the younger woman.
“And you was worryin’ her about college?” Cousin Glory Jean gestured for me to continue without acknowledging the nurse.
“We weretalkingabout college,” I said, slightly irritated.
“Well, that’s probably what did it.” She lifted her chin high enough so I could see up her nostrils. “Big ain’t got no money to be puttin’ you through school. It took everything she had to raise you two after your momma and daddy died. You think she wanna take on more responsibility and use a cut out of her social security check so you can give it to white folk at somecollege?”
I sucked in a huge gulp of air.
Jazzy fixed her lips and I knew she was about to say something crazy when, suddenly, we all heard a moan come from Big.
We all shuffled closer to her bed, including Kirstie.
Softly, she whispered, “Stop.”
Kirstie asked us to step outside. “The last thing she needs is stress right now so maybe you can talk outside this room.”
“That’s what I’m tryna say,” Cousin Glory Jean exclaimed, putting a hand on her chest. She shooed us out.
I pursed my lips. I’d had enough. My cousin was too extra for words.
Jazzy grabbed my arm. “Let’s go to the waiting room.” We left Cousin Glory Jean to fawn over Big.
Once we were in the hall, Jazzy fumed, “I swear, if it wasn’t for Big, I’d stomp on Cousin Glory Jean’s bunions.” Her voice carried down the hall, causing us to get a couple of wide-eyed stares.
Jazzy and I broke out into laughter as we entered the waiting room.
“I know you ain’t talkin’ aboutmymomma.” Poochie’s voice came from inside the waiting room. We had forgotten Poochie was within earshot. Big’s room was only a few feet away. We entered into the small space.
Jazzy spoke up. “I’m sorry, Poochie, she just…”
Poochie attempted to lift her body to a standing position and tried to steady herself with the chair’s arm. While she struggled, she fussed. “Naw. Keep ya apology. We done drove two freakin’ hours to get here and y’all wanna threaten violence towardmymomma.” With a huff, she was finally on her feet and plodded toward us at a snail’s pace, wearing the expression of a warrior.
“Really, Poochie?” I cajoled. “You know how they—your momma, Big, and even my momma was when she was alive. They couldallget on our nerves sometimes.”
Jazzy and I inched backwards.
