Cocoon (28 page)

This time, shoppers gawked at the usually matter-of-fact proprietor, red-faced with laughter, hands tangled with three ditzy females giggling like adolescents.

• • •

Zoe had begun her stealthy attack against overmedication right away. Because if Seana was dying a slow death, the meds weren't helping anyway. Could actually be hastening her demise. All Zoe knew was that she had to do something.

That something was to contact her friend, Dr. Frieda Awe, who dealt in natural healing substances. She and her husband, Jim, were dance students of hers who were well-acquainted with Seana's medical history.

“Frieda, if I slowly wean Mom off certain meds, shouldn't I offset them with other healing substances?”

They sat at the Happy Feet Dance Studio between dances that Saturday evening. “By all means.” Frieda smiled and gave a high five. “That's great deductive reasoning, by the way.” She took out a pen, and Zoe provided a business tablet for her to list all Seana's current meds.

“I'll stay in touch and provide you with names of replacements. You know of course to do this gradually and monitor your mother's progress or lack thereof? And if there's the least problem call me right away?”

“Yes. I'm a little nervous, but I feel in my bones it's the right thing to do.”

“Then go with it, Zoe. And stay in close touch. I'm always here for you. So remember that if anything really uncommon arises, call me.”

Zoe felt much, much better having a medical doctor standing by. One who actually supported her instincts. Who knew the ins and outs of meds and side effects.

She was in business.

• • •

Zoe knew that Seana suspected her of doing something to her meds.

Zoe was cunning in her efforts, using her sharp scissors to whittle the pills down gradually without her mother seeing her in action. But those blue eyes watched more as Zoe divvied up dosages. What Seana didn't know was that Zoe took her extra med supply home with her to do the dirty work.

This task was now hers exclusively.

Barth had been happy to turn it over to her.

“These pills look smaller.” Seana grumbled each day. But Zoe simply smiled and watched her take them.

Of course, capsules were no problem. She simply pulled them apart and slowly reduced the amount of powder in each. And with Dr. Awe overseeing the mixtures in the dosages, Zoe would replace the discarded powder with the recommended natural substances.

One big challenge came when Zoe followed Dr. Awe's instruction on how to heal Seana's stomach after the long siege of meds. One main combatant was homemade yogurt, made fresh daily, from a Mediterranean store. To this, Zoe added and mixed in some finely ground supplemental greens she got from a health store.

“Yuck! That's nasty!” Seana grumbled, screwing up her face. “It tastes awful!”

Barth had learned to flee to the outdoors during med time.

Zoe got in her face. “It will help get your digestive tract back to normal after all those pills, Mom. Eat up.”

Twice a day, Zoe stood her ground, forcing her to eat every bite of it. Sometimes she felt kinda sorry for her mother when she shuddered and gagged. Kinda. But not enough to back off.

Miraculously, the stuff stayed down.

Zoe figured the mixture was too danged mean and stubborn to come back up. It was a good match at facing down her mom's own obstinacy.

Oh yeh. Those were challenging days.

But Zoe was in it for the long haul.

• • •

Billie Jean looked at the new bottles Barth and Zoe brought in from the latest trek to Dr. Awe's place. “What are those?” she asked, curiosity brimming.

Zoe poured decaf coffee for the three of them, then sat down at the bar.

In a quiet voice, muffled from Seana's ears in the nearby den by baseball racket, she replied, “This one is Plus, which is an herbal amino acid supplement.” She pointed to another. “This one is a multivitamin/mineral supplement, and the other is Ambrotose, which is a glytonutritional dietary supplement. She needs them all twice a day.”

“Good luck.” Billie Jean chortled.

Zoe laughed. “After the yogurt mixture, honey, these will be gravy.”

Barth chuckled, shaking his head. “Thanks, Zoe,” he said softly.

“For what?” she exclaimed, rolling her eyes. “Piece o' cake.”

“Yeh, right.” Billie Jean burst into laughter.

“She's gotten awfully paranoid about the size of her pills,” Zoe said, sniggering. “They're so tiny you can barely see them. She narrows those blue eyes at me like a charging bull every time they shrink a little more.”

They all burst into laughter, the nervous, overpowering kind that must be expressed regardless of the moment's solemnity.

But, Zoe figured, as the old saying goes: better to laugh than cry.

• • •

Seana watched the folks come and go. Today was Joanie's shift. She knew that much because it was so regular, the turnover. But regardless of the action stirring around her, she still occupied her cozy little soft dip on the sofa, to which her thin body molded perfectly.

The blanket still swaddled her and drove away chills.

The cocoon remained firmly in place.

Then Joanie asked her to go for a walk.

“No.”

“Come on, Seana.” Joanie tugged her from the sofa, refusing to take no for an answer.

She coaxed Seana around in the house, in a circular path through the rooms and back to the den and when Seana headed for the sofa, Joanie gently tugged her on “one more round.”

Seana was quite tired after three or four laps, and Joanie let her settle back on the sofa. “But don't lie down,” she said smiling. “I have a surprise for you.”

And there on the warm sofa, legs crossed tailor-fashion, Joanie gave Seana a manicure and painted her finger nails a lovely shade of pink.

When she finished, Seana looked at her fingers and wanted to smile. She didn't, but it made her feel – pleased. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“You're welcome,” Joanie said, grinning from ear to ear.

Seana realized again how tired she was.

“I'm gonna lie down.”

She slid down into her little dented sofa niche and curled over into fetal position.

• • •

Billie Jean was, by far, the most militant caregiver, at least in Seana's opinion.

“Come on, Seana,” Billie Jean said that Saturday, “let's go get some lunch.”

“No. I want a pimento cheese sandwich.”

“I didn't give you a choice, did I? Come on, put on your shoes, and go get a clean shirt from your closet.”

Seana didn't like to be bossed around. More to the point, she didn't want to leave her sofa. But she knew that, like a pit bull, Billie Jean would not let go. So she put on her slippers, went to her room, and pulled out a long sleeved Braves pullover.

Her favorite striped shirt had disappeared weeks ago. New slacks replaced her old, baggy ones, ones that fit her whipcord thin shape. She'd grumbled but nobody paid any attention.

On the drive to Fred's Deli, Billie Jean said, “This is the scenic route.”

“Same as always.”

“So you noticed. Huh.” Billie Jean grinned, obviously enjoying the sunny drive. It was again autumn. “Lordy how the seasons fly these days,” she said.

“We're getting too far from home,” Seana grumbled.

“No, no. We're not far at all. We can be home in the shake of Brutus's tail.”

At Fred's, where Seana got a rousing greeting from most everybody there from the customers to the bag boys, she managed to slink to the booth with Billie Jean without being cornered.

Sadie Tate dropped by a minute to say hello. Amazingly, her eyes teared up when she spoke to Seana.”I've missed you, Seana.”

Seana turned her head away and mumbled, “Hello.”

Sadie fidgeted. “Well, take care of yourself, now. We're all praying for you.” Then she left quietly.

Billie Jean ordered her a hot dog all the way. “I know you can eat this because you eat them at Petee's.” She plunked the sandwich and water before a scowling Seana and tucked into her own healthy fare of salad greens, tomatoes, peppers, and onions. Added to that were bean sprouts and Fred's own specialty, his Power-Punch Healthy Blend Salad Dressing.

Seana glowered for long moments at Billie Jean, who ate her meal with gusto. Seana finally began to pick at the hot dog and managed to finish most of it before their trek home.

There, Billie Jean hooked her arm and said, “We're going on an outing today. Outdoors.”

Before she could resist, Seana felt herself tugged out the door again into mild but pleasant autumn air. Brutus followed and loped along beside them as they walked around at least half the back property, a good fifteen-minute jaunt.

Seana was panting nearly as much as Brutus by the time they got back indoors, gaining absolutely no sympathy from Billie Jean.

Seana went to the fridge, filled a large, chilled glass with water, and drained it. Then, on the fridge door, seeing the magnetic pad with Barth's To-Do List For Seana, she yanked it off.

“Look what Barth wrote for me to do,” she said indignantly, hoping to recruit a smidgeon of sympathy from Billie Jean, since Seana had done so much walking.

Billie Jean took the pad and began reading it. “Walking … dusting … reading Bible … washing and drying dishes. Doctor said if you don't use it, you lose it.”

Seana migrated to her sofa, already feeling it closing warmly around her.

“Ah-ah.” Billie Jean's reprimand halted her. “Let's get some of these things done so you can check them off. Won't Barth be proud of you?”

Seana didn't care beans if Barth was proud of her or not. “I don't want to.”

“Oh, but the doctor ordered it,” Billie Jean said sweetly and fetched the duster and stood over Seana as she dusted furniture.

Next was dishwashing time. There were only a few glasses and cups, but Billie Jean hovered until the last one was dried and put away.

To the sofa Seana staggered, but Billie Jean had other ideas. “Let's read the Bible together. You can sit to do this.”

And so the day ended with Seana reading from the book of Matthew. Billie Jean told her they would read straight through the New Testament as they went along.

When Barth came in from a long day at the office and extra guys's activities with Peyton and Scott, Billie Jean showed him the list of checked-off activities.

Barth's face brightened with each accomplishment.

Seana? She headed for the sofa, dived in, and covered her head.

• • •

Chelsea brought a Rummikub game with her and made Seana play it for long spells. “You need to exercise your brain, Seana. It's been on vacation and needs stimulation.”

The game's required manipulation of legal number groupings rattled something inside Seana. Not pleasant. “This will help you, Seana,” Chelsea repeatedly told her during the game.

So, much as it agitated her, Seana complied.

The same compliance happened with other caregivers parading through Seana's house. Ashley and Peyton took turns overseeing their Nana's activities, which, to everyone's surprise, expanded in coming weeks. Ashley's crossword puzzles and Peyton's Scrabble board were both agony and – if not ecstasy, then something akin to pride – for Seana.

And slowly, she morphed into doing laundry. Or baking cookies. Or taking walks on her own with Brutus tagging along.

Christmas found her stronger and ready to help decorate the tree. She, Zoe, and Billie Jean got in the kitchen and cooked for the family Christmas gathering at her house. Barth, of course, joined in, doing delicious new veggie dishes to add to the traditional fare.

Christmas Day was sunny and cold. Perfect yuletide weather.

Zoe's gift to her mother was a basket chocked full of Bed and Bath and Victoria's Secret bath supplies and fancy, dainty underwear.

“Mm-mm.” Billie Jean sniffed extravagantly. “That smells good enough to eat.”

“Yeh, Nana!” Ashley piped up. “You're gonna be one foxy lady.”

“Thank you,” Seana said, uncertain of how to feel.

“You've come a long way, Baby,” Barth purred in her ear.

She pulled away and everybody laughed. She wished she felt normal.

But she didn't. Hard as she tried, she could not feel – normal.

“I'm sorry,” she mumbled and went to her bedroom and closed the door. The sofa was too public now. She needed this total isolation to shut out the world.

She felt stronger. She could almost touch reality.

Almost.

But something was still terribly wrong in her brain.

The blasted thing still tinkered with the wiring.

It was worse now, because she was slipping from the stark white nothingness and brushed it for an instant at a time. She seemed in a netherland – in between two worlds.

And it was terrifying.

“Just like the butterfly,
I too will awaken in my own time.”

– Deborah Chaskin

Z
oe, Peyton, Barth, Scott, and the entire Paradise Springs Cloggers drove to Nashville, Tennessee in October for the Southeastern Cloggers's Competition. Ashley and Geena, a close friend and classmate of hers, volunteered to stay with Seana.

Seana found herself doing things for the two girls, like laundering their clothing and fixing them snacks. She didn't take too much note of it because it just happened.

She kept hearing Barth saying things like, “Time is flying. Can't believe it's autumn again already.”

Seana didn't agree or disagree. Time was the right now of her existence, not especially connected to life's continuity.

They took a long walk around the back property. The girls oohed and aahed over the changing leaves, all shades of gold, brown, rust, and red and made big fun of crunching the dried ones beneath their feet and watching Brutus chase squirrels.

Seana even watched a movie with them, all three piled onto the sofa, though she got little from it.

At bedtime each night, Ashley came into her room to give her a big hug. “I love you, Nana. It's so good to talk to you again.”

After she left, Seana lay in her bed and tried to wrap her brain around the words's significance.

She could not.

But at least Ashley could.

Somehow, she knew that it was momentous to Ashley.

And on some obscure level, she wished that it was to her.

• • •

Thanksgiving was to be at Seana's house again. This time she would cook the entire meal with no assistance. She did some preliminaries while no one was there. It gave her something to do.

Something to do was becoming more important, though she couldn't elucidate why.

Walking became her primary pastime. It made her feel stronger. Cooking also gave her something she sensed was weighty. Only indication of that was her family's delighted response.

Physically, she was better, in that she was mobile and could endure and sustain some normal activity.

If only the blasted thing in her brain would let up. It kept tinkering, toying with it, sliding her back and forth on that blurred edge of reality.

Thanksgiving Day arrived. Everything was ready when the family arrived. Seana was tired, but it was a good tired. One that made her sigh and relax when she sat at the opposite end of the long dining room table, facing Barth, who asked God's blessing on the bountiful spread of food.

That was the extent of solemnity for the remainder of the evening.

Billie Jean crowed, “Did we cream those guys in the Clogging Competition or what?”

“
Yahoo
!” cried the others along with a little foot stomping until Seana scowled at them.

Zoe and Scott were lovey-dovey throughout the meal. Peyton and Ashley kept teasing them about being calf-eyed over each other, and they just laughed along with everybody else.

Seana, not plugged into the conduit of celebration, began to feel herself disconnect even more.

To withdraw toward that white mist. It crawled over her skin, trying to penetrate. Its tug was hypnotic. She made herself resist its pull.

She forced herself to sit through the meal, and only when Barth arose did she leave the table. The younger crew took over cleanup. No one seemed to notice Seana's lack of engagement in her surroundings.

On some level she realized that in itself was a change. Folks weren't reacting to her as much. There wasn't anything profound in her discovery. Just fact.

“We've got an announcement to make.” Zoe harnessed everyone's attention by rapping a spoon against a glass. “Scott and I are engaged.”

Woo-hoo
choruses broke out as they applauded the turn of events.

The words bounced off Seana, but she remained in the den as they all swarmed in around her, with Ashley plastering to her side as Peyton went to the piano where he started playing Nana's favorites.

They did not appeal to her today. Did not touch her.

Barth could not long resist and joined Peyton on the stool, playing an octave higher or lower as they did their famous switch-places act.

Seana began to grow impatient for them to leave.

Oh no.

The whiteness grew brighter and enveloped her like a thick fog.

Her eyes closed and she nudged Ashley aside as her body began to slide into proneness. She felt Ashley move away, giving her the space she needed to burrow into her sofa niche.

She sighed.

Slowly, the gaiety subsided.

The house grew silent as her family left, one by one, whispering goodbyes and kissing her cheek.

At last, she once more slid into her snug cocoon.

• • •

The Christmas lights blinked greetings each time Seana entered the den. The nine-foot spruce was from their forest, as was their tradition by now. This year, Scott joined Barth and Peyton on the established tree-cutting team.

Decorating it now involved Barth, Seana, Zoe, Scott, Peyton, and Ashley. Billie Jean joined them sporadically to critique and fill in gaps. Bing Crosby Christmas music wafted from the stereo. Crosby was part of Barth's tradition during yuletide, and the entire family joined in singing “White Christmas” and “The Drummer Boy” as they worked.

All except Seana.

Seana had helped with the decorating, and even from her remote perch, she recognized that the result was colorful and engaging to her family. It did not reach that spot inside her that
felt.
That
responded.
Like the music, it did not penetrate that blasted white nothingness.

Seana knew it was there. Knew it did not belong there.

“Mama?” Zoe called. “Didn't you hear me? I asked if you want me to bake pecan sandies for Christmas Day.”

“I don't care,” Seana muttered and continued cleaning up the tinsel that had missed the tree during the wild tossing contest. The others joined in and took inordinate care in hanging the silvery strands just so, for Seana's benefit. In that activity, she was meticulously accurate with getting uniform dangles.

Seana finished hanging the last strands and immediately embarked on her standard walk path through the house. She timed this daily activity to see how long it took her to go from the den to the back bedroom.

One minute, five seconds.

She always circled the route several times during her regular trek. She could hear her doctor saying, “If you don't use it, you lose it.” And that prodded her in some mysterious way. “Lose” was not a good word.

When she finished, she sank back down on the sofa, tired.

On Christmas Eve, Seana asked Barth, “When can I get my driver's license back?”

It had expired during her illness. Barth would not let her have car keys, but Seana knew it wouldn't be a great thing for her to drive.

Barth turned from the counter where he chopped onions for squash and cheddar casserole. His eyes teared from the onions. He sniffled and took off his glasses.

Snatching a paper towel to dry his face, he asked, “Why?”

“Because. I want to get my license again.”

He laid down his knife, washed his hands, and came over to the bar to sit across from her. She was garnishing potato salad with olives, quite precisely.

He wiped his glasses to a sparkling shine and slid them back on. “We'll wait till you're able to drive again and then we'll see about your license, okay?”

He gazed into her eyes, and for a moment she thought he looked sad.

“Okay.”

Then he smiled. “Want me to make us some hot chocolate?”

She'd just recently acquired a liking for it. “Okay.”

He hustled about putting milk in the microwave, then measuring out a special health store chocolate mix into cups. When the microwave pinged, he added the mixture to the steaming milk and stirred.

“I'm tired,” Seana muttered and arose to Saran-wrap the potato salad and slide it into the fridge.

“Do you want to try a marshmallow on top?” Barth asked, wiggling his eyebrows like a silly school boy. He dangled the puffy white marshmallow over her cup.

“Yuck,” she said and headed for the sofa.

Barth chuckled. “I figured as much. I'll bring yours to you.”

He sat hers on the coffee table as she folded herself onto the sofa. Brutus's head lifted from his bed nearby to sniff the aroma. Barth tossed him a small treat before taking his seat in the easy chair.

Seana saw Barth close his eyes for a moment and bow his head. He looked so sad.

Seana picked up her cup and sipped.

It was good.

• • •

After the holidays, Barth fell into a routine of working at the church office more. He needed the distance from the house, from the frustration of having Seana so near, yet so far away.

Besides, the regiment of friends and family committed to Seana's caregiving was as staunch and organized as the armed forces. He would actually get in their way if he didn't regularly disappear.

“She's really come a long way in the past year,” Billie Jean declared one night at Happy Feet Dance Studio. Ashley had volunteered to sit with her Nana tonight and let Barth come and stretch his legs for a spell.

They sat at a table with candlelight, apart from the brightly lighted parquet dance floor. “So have you,” Barth reminded her.

“Yup.” The curly head nodded vigorously. “Thanks to your help. And Zoe's. That gal's turned out to be a regular Dr. DoRight when it comes to holistic medicine.”

“She's quite a smart cookie.” Barth reflected on the changes in Zoe, and his heart stirred with gratitude that the family situation had done an abrupt 180-degree turn.

“Have you checked with Fred Johnson on the For Seana's Sake prayer list progression?” Barth asked.

“Fred says that the prayer list has grown to thousands.”

“Wow.” Barth blinked and shook his head. And something inside him floated up like a helium balloon aiming for the galaxy.

Hope.

“It's gonna happen, Barth.” Billie Jean shot him a thumbs-up.

And for the first time in a long time, Barth felt a distinct flutter of faith. Not the “what if” kind.

The “when” kind.

“C'mon.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the dance floor. “Time for a line dance!”

And so, for a few feet-stomping moments in a four-wall line dance to Marcia Griffith's “Electric Boogie,” Barth forgot to be sad.

• • •

Seana refused the marshmallow in her hot chocolate again that night and saw Barth's coaxing smile vanish and the weariness return. But the
why
of it did not ripple her opaque waters. It either sank into endless depths or floated away into infinity.

When she lay down to sleep, Barth prayed with her as he always did then joined her in bed. He no longer snuggled or spooned up to her as he once had. She'd been too prickly about it. “Like a cactus,” was the way Barth had referred to her persnickety rebuffs.

So when she sank into slumber, it was a dark, dreamless, bottomless venture. Normal for her now.

Hours later, Seana awakened suddenly – fully awake with no transition from sleep.

This was, for Seana, unusual. In the silence, she could hear Barth's deep, even breathing. It was an exceptionally dark night. No doubt the skies were overcast, she thought.

A sliver of light appeared beneath her bathroom door from a nightlight put there to insure she wouldn't stumble through the night.

Later, Seana would tell Barth that she didn't know when she became aware of the light. It came like her awakening, without transition. It was different from the sliver beneath her door or even moonlight – tonight nonexistent – which normally spilled through her windows.

No, this light was more an illumination than light with a defined path.

There was something extraordinary about this light: it had, somehow, a center of consciousness. Seana felt a prickling of something.

Not fear.

Awe.

She was not afraid. Instead, it was like seeing an old childhood friend who'd changed, but she still recognized its totality rather than compiled features.

“Hello?” she murmured under her breath.

The light moved slightly. Actually, not really moved, just was suddenly closer to her without leaving where it was.

The prickling over her increased.

“Christ?” she whispered.

The light moved again. This time enveloping her. She looked down and her entire physical form was illumined. She wiggled her fingers and the light remained. She felt the warmth then. A pleasant, soothing sensation that relaxed her into a near giddy puddle of peace.

Yet … it went beyond that. Seana felt an overwhelming sense of – what?

It hit her like a brick up the side her head.

Love.

The thing she felt in her very pores was love. She knew because she'd been without it for so long that its advent was astonishing.

Seana knew its source.

Barth tossed restlessly, moaning in his sleep. Did he do that often?

“Would you please help, Barth?” her lips moved soundlessly.

The light did not leave her, but in some mystical way, it moved over and covered Barth, who sighed and settled bonelessly on his side, sleeping like a newborn.

“And now,” she whispered again, “would you please, please go to Billie Jean's bed downstairs? She needs you, too.” She sighed. “Oh yeh, and give her a double whammy, please?” The light moved again, and without leaving her, made its way through the wall in the direction of the stairwell that led downstairs.

Seana lay there for a long time, marinating in the presence.

And then, the light was gone. Her bedside clock said three a.m.

Seana lifted her head from the pillow to search the room but saw only the sliver of the nightlight from beneath the bathroom door.

The room was as dark as before on this moonless night.