Chapter 12

I felt nothing when I heard of Phil’s death.  Over the years of my abuse, I had trained myself to feel nothing about him.  But I did feel fear that day.   Fear for my mother and selfishly, fear for myself.  How was I going to take care of her?  I knew I would need some help with this situation, so I asked my friend Vicki to come to Iowa with me to start the process with my mother.  I needed someone who would be levelheaded if I got too emotional and couldn’t think.  When Vicki and I neared Iowa, I called Phil’s sister Sharon and told her I would be at her house in about 30 minutes.  This is when the fun truly began.  Sharon said they wouldn’t be home.  What?!?  I just drove for two hours on the winter highway!  “You’ll just put her in a home and leave us to bury Phil” she hissed into the phone.  I had to pull over I was so enraged.  She hung up on me several more times as I attempted to make arrangements to pick up my mother.  The last time we spoke I calmly assured her that I would make whatever arrangements for Phil’s internment that my mother saw fit.  And if she didn’t turn my mother over to me in 30 minutes, I would show up with the police.  When Vicki and I turned onto the snowy, gravel road that would lead to my mother, the theme song from “Deliverance” played in my head.  I started singing it to make us laugh through our fear.  I was crying, but I’m not sure it was from the laughter.  This was Iowa, folks.  I envisioned we’d pull up to someone holding a shotgun to our faces.  What had I gotten us into?  When I pulled up their driveway, the entire family was standing there.  It was a very surreal scene.  I pulled halfway up the drive (in case we needed to make a quick getaway!) and left Vicki in the running car.  My mother looked so emaciated and weary I barely recognized her.  I hugged her and held her for a moment in the cold.   I collected her things from Sharon and again assured them I would be in touch regarding their brother.  I put my mother in the backseat and with relief, pulled away from the house.  “Is that my blood pressure?” my mother asked.  “What are you talking about?” I asked in return.  She was referring to the lights on my dashboard.  Oh, boy ~ here we go.  We started at the DMV.  I knew she would need a state ID for all the paperwork we would need to fill out regarding bank accounts, etc.  She was very intrigued by all the wall postings.  She thought they were all about her.  “That’s me” she would say and point to a picture of a missing child.  I was more concerned with making sure she didn’t run away from me.  We got the ID and went to lunch.  At one point during our meal, my mother was staring intently, her eyebrows knitted together in worry.  “What are you looking at?” I asked her.  “I’m just watching television.” she replied.  There was no television.  We all went into the restroom.  My mom and Vicki went first and as I was going to the bathroom, my mom bolted from the restaurant out into the parking lot.   We caught her and were able to coax her into the car.  I just wanted to get everything done.  Our last stop for the day was the county courthouse.  We were going to apply for state aid for Phil’s burial as suggested by the funeral home.  As we were filling out the first form, my mom got up from her chair and screamed at a wanted poster.  “That’s her!!!” she shouted with fear in her voice.  “Who?”  Again, she attempted to escape.  I could barely hold her.  She is 4’11 and maybe 90 pounds but man, was she strong that day!  “That’s the girl they killed!” she screamed.  “Who killed her?” I asked, trying with all my might to hold her.  “Sharon!  And then they took my blood in my sleep and put it in her body and then gave me her blood.  Let me out of here!”  I threw the clipboard with the unfinished forms to the poor girl behind the desk and Vicki and I were able to get my mom back in the car.  It was clear it was time to get her to the hospital, but how?  I had taken her to the hospital before and she didn’t go easy.  I knew we were in for a fight.  Then I had an idea.  “Mom, should we go to the hospital to get your blood put back in your body?” I asked.  “Yes.” she replied.  “Okay, Mom.  Everything’s going to be okay.”  I prayed I was right.