Page 40 of Rude Boss 2

Chapter 8

Quintessa

Mom is discharged around ten.The nurse escorts her down in a wheelchair and I’m right by her side as we stand outside of the double glass doors, waiting for Dad to pull the car up.

Mom gripes, “It shouldn’t taketwo yearsfor yo’ daddy to bring the car around.”

She’s been stuck in the hospital overnight. She’s cranky, tired and eager to get home. I say, “Ma, he parked in the garage. It’s going to take a minute.”

“Oh…he can get to Home Depot in two seconds flat, but it takes an eternity to pull out of the parking garage.”

The nurse looks uncomfortable as she listens to mom complain. She’s making me uncomfortable, too.

Attempting to calm her down a little, I say, “Mom, you’ll be home soon. I know you miss your bed.”

“Chile, I sure do. This hospital bed done got my bones stiffer than a two-by-four.”

“I doubt the hospital bed did that to you. You’re probably still stiff from the fall.”

“No, I’m not. The doctor said I took that fall like a champ!”

I shake my head. Why would the doctor tell her that? Got her out here thinking she’s an interior decorator vigilante who can’t get hurt because she survived a small one-time incident. Next time, she may not be so lucky.

“I tell you what, Sylvie Bailey…let me catch you on that ladder again. It’s going to be a whole problem.”

“You—” Mom tries to turn around to look at the nurse, but she can’t twist properly since she’s so stiff. “You hear this girl talking to me? Tell me something, nurse Betty, would you talk to your mama like that?”

Amused, I say, “First of all, her name is not Betty, Ma. You can’t just be making up random names for people.”

The nurse giggles and says, “It’s okay. And I would be happy that my daughter was looking after me. You don’t see a lot of that in the world. I can’t tell you how many elderly people come through here and their children are nowhere to be found.”

“Wait—did you just call me elderly?”

“Ma!”

The nurse’s face turns red. “I’m so sorry. I just assumed—”

“Don’t apologize. Mom is sixty-two.”

“That’s right,” mom says, “Sixty-two yearsyoung. You’re only as old as you feel.”

“Yeah, until you climb up on a ladder and crack your tailbone.” I chuckle. I can laugh about it now since I know she’s okay.

Mom chuckles, too. “Hush, girl.”

Dad finally emerges in their Buick LeSabre – it’s what he calls theirgoodcar – the car they only drive for special events and out-of-town trips – but for some unfathomable reason, he’s driving extremely slow. He’s probably tired. I’m sure he didn’t get much sleep last night after being bent up in the chair with the temperature the same as they keep it in a meat locker.

He slows to a stop, shifts the car into park, then gets out and opens the passenger door for mom like I couldn’t have done it. I’m not surprised. He loves her dearly, even though she works his nerves on a regular basis.

They say women want men who emulate their father’s good qualities. Having a man who could deal with all my idiosyncrasies as well as my father is able to deal with my mother’s is all the man I’ll ever need. Dad deserves a husband-of-the-year award after hanging in there all this time with her.

When dad has her situated in the car, I say, “Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad. I’ll bring dinner later. Dad, don’t let mom cook anything.”

“Hush, lil’ girl,” she tells me. “You don’t run nothing in my house. You best go somewhere with your millionaire boyfriend so he can put me a grandbaby in your stomach.”

“Mom!”

Dad says, “It must be the pain medication, Quin. Don’t pay her no mind. Trust me, if she doesn’t want to behave, I’ll pull off my belt and go to work on that behind.”

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