NO LONGER THERE

STRAND FOUR

LILLIAN ROSE REED

Lillian was a damn mess.

That's why I rushed home after I got the call. To see her like this was shocking really, considering my entire existence she has hovered lives above the gateway of this world and the next for a living. But there she was, at 4 am, sitting in the very hospital where she was known as Dr. Reed, blubbering like a seal surrounded by sea pandas, alone in room 302.

Lisa was ten then, she was at home with Nana. Thank goodness for Nana because it was shameful the way my mother carried on. And no one else needed to be subjected to that.

When I saw her, all undignified because my mother always had her shit together. I could have sworn he had died. My mouth turned into road kill for spit, dry as cotton in a drought, all because when my sleepy butt walked in, there was Lillian, at 4 am, sitting in the very hospital where she was known as Dr. Reed, alone in room 302, blubbering like a seal surrounded by sea pandas.

"Mom?"

I don't know why I asked. Like I didn't know who she was with that light as white bread skin and high ass cheek bones, but I did.

"Mom, where's Daddy?"

"Avery Grace." She belted out in that Carnegie Hall of a hospital room.

I abhorred her saying my name like that. Grace is pretty. I just hated hearing both names come out of her mouth, at once. Why? Because there was always drama lurking in the shadows of the connotation of it.

Just take a seat in that stained chair in the corner, you'll see.

"Mom, where's Daddy?"

"He's in surgery."

"For a cracked rib?"

That's why I had gotten the call. Clarence had fallen. But now, looking in her face, Lillian was too much of a mess for just a tumble.

"He broke his hip and his rodeo injuries don't help, especially his neck "

Gotdamn you, Black Jack.

Surprised, I asked. "When did he go to surgery?"

"Right before I called you, Avery Grace." She answered in her matter-of-fact tone.

See, I hated hearing both of my names come out of her mouth, at once. There was always drama lurking in the shadows of the connotation of it.

"Mom, I drove four hours believing Daddy just cracked a rib. Surgery? Is there a reason you didn't lead with that when you called?"

"Avery Grace, I didn't want my baby girl on I-35 worrying about her father. I told you what I felt was best for you to know."

Exactly. Because Lillian Rose Reed always knew what was best, for everybody.

Maybe that's why I questioned her name when I walked in. Because even though I recognized that light as white bread skin and high ass cheek bones, I had hoped that face finally belonged to a different Lillian Rose Reed.

But, nope. After all her drama, she now sat in that chair across the room, suddenly tearless, fixing her makeup. While taking deep breaths to keep myself from screaming, the smell of her Joy attacked my senses, sending mixed messages to my brain.

Message One : Bulgarian rose, tuberose and ylang-ylang smelled so nice wafting from her light as white bread skin.

Message Two: The day she purchased the perfume in Neiman Marcus, I was sixteen. Lisa was eight. She was also curious. So, mocha skin me and chocolate skin, eight year-old, curious Lisa sampled perfumes while Mom hem-hawed with the sales girl she knew from high school.