Page 31 of Make Me Forget
Secrets and Lies
Mara
Murphy’s analysis on questionable sources of information proved correct. He would never hear those words from me,however.
I did pry from the talkative woman the whereabouts of my mother’s death, which, surprise surprise, turned out to be the very rehab center I attended therapy in. Today, I came back for the group meeting but arrived obscenely early to see if I could get some facts from a nurse at registration. It didn’t take long to find, but the old lady behind the desk stared back at me with cold, unyielding eyes. They probably came in handy when people showed up professing clean drugtests.
“Can I help you?” she asked. More than I expected fromher.
“My mother was a patient here in the last…say…ten years. I’m wondering if you could give me some information about her or if I could see herrecords.”
She narrowed her eyes and cocked a hip, and I knew this would not be an easy nut to crack. “Do you have a court order, or are you the legal guardian of yourmother?”
“Well, shedied.”
She relaxed, somewhat safe in the knowledge I wasn’t about to put her physician’s code to the test. “When did shedie?”
Shit. “I’m not exactlysure?”
“You don’t know when your own mother died? If you don’t know that information, why would you want to see herrecords?”
My hands started to sweat, and I could feel the cold rage which poured over me sometimes, stripping away all sense of decorum when it came to people treating me like some criminal. I took a deep breath and tried to focus on keeping my voice level and calm. “Look, it’s not so simple. I was injured in Afghanistan. I don’t remember anything about my mother’s death. I just want to know what happened toher.”
Another look which said she wasn’t buying my bullshit. “Listen Lady, what do you want me to say?” I pulled apart my hair to show her the scar on my temple. “I was shot in the goddamn head, and now I’m trying to piece together my life frombefore.”
And there went any chance I had at getting help. I’d learned when I exploded at people, they didn’t respond well. Usually security or police became involved. And yet, I’d never been able to stop it once it began. It often built until I couldn’t see over the top, and the only way to get to the other side was to let itgo.
Her lips were pursed now, drawing lines through her already smudged Barbie pink lipstick “You listen to me, young lady. I don’t have to give you anything, especially when you speak to me likethat.”
I threw my hands in the air and stalked toward the meeting room, the anger still on a low boil in my gut. Fuck Parker and his too happy, dysfunctional group. I should leave now and forget I ever tried this stupidshit.
Despite the cursing in my mind, I entered the room and threw myself in a chair so hard, it skidded across the floor, drawing the attention of the other few men who’d alreadyarrived.
Parker sauntered over a minute later while I fumed with my arms crossed over my stomach. “Roughday?”
I shook my head and glared in another direction. It didn’t deter him one bit. “You could tell me about it. Maybe I couldhelp?”
“No one can help me,” I said, the anger slow fizzling to something worse. The low, sick feeling snaking low in my bellynow.
“That’s not true. And you wouldn’t be here if you thought it was either. Please, tell me whathappened.”
I sucked in a breath and conjured conversations in my head to get me out of talking to him, but nothing stuck, so instead, I rattled off my conversation with Nurse Ratchet, all while not meeting hiseyes.
He clapped one big hand on my shoulder. “I can see how that would frustrate you. Can I try? See if I can get the records foryou?”
I looked him dead on now. “Why would you do that? And why would they give them to you and notme?”
“People around here respond better to those they know and see often. Also, I’m the psych doc on staff, so if I ask for records, they will likely turn them over, no questionsasked.”
Huh. He hadn’t introduced himself as Doctor Parker or anything resembling something formal. I’d just assumed maybe he was the group appointed leader. I could be thick sometimes, if what Murphy kept saying is true. “Thank you,Doctor.”
He waved me away. “No, none of that. Call me Parker. I’ll be rightback.”
I watched him go with a mix of awe and guilt for acting so irrationally. Oh well, I’d throw it on top of the shame and instability already teetering in a precarious pile on mypsyche.
It took him five minutes, and he came back with a sheet of paper. He pressed it into my hands and leaned in to speak softly. “I’m sorry there wasn’t more information. She wasn’t here long, and she died ratherquickly.”
I read over the sheet on my mother. We’d never gotten along. Her intermittent drug use and the fact I raised myself didn’t go very far in establishing a bond between us. She died of a drug overdose. So how did the old me come to the conclusion I killedher?
