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26.
Jimmy Mendez sat on the edge of his hospital bed, looking out the window. He sat in his cotton pajamas, holding an orange between his knees but too numb to peel it.
Someone walked suddenly into the room. Hearing the door open, and seeing the shadow stabbing over the bed and over the floor, Jimmy let out a yell and dove under the bed.'
"Jimmy?" said a lady in squeaky white shoes and baggy clothing—green scrub pants, flowery top. She was Filipino and had a nice smile. "Jimmy, I won't hurt you. Come out so I can take your temp. I'll give you some ice cream if you help me out."
Jimmy rose. "I thought you were—"
She stood calmly, holding a little box in one hand, and in the other something to stick in him. "I was who?"
"I thought you were—" Jimmy lowered his voice, "—mom."
The nurse stepped forward. "Let me put this in your mouth. It won't hurt." He let her. The thermometer tasted vaguely like strawberries. "It has a fruit pop flavor kids like. So why did you jump under the bed? You thought I was your mom?"
"Not my mom," Jimmy said heatedly as a little beep sounded. She took the thermometer out of his mouth and looked at it. "Not my mom, but the thing that looks like her."
"Temp is normal, Jimmy. Very good. Your mom is not your mom?"
He shook his head.
"Okay, Jimmy, thank you."
He could tell she thought he was crazy. She didn't meet his eyes, but he could see alarm in her eyes. She wasn't mean. She seemed worried for him.
A while later another lady came in. She was also nice. They sat side by side on the bed. She was a tall young black lady with dark red lipstick and glossy, curly hair. She smelled nice, and she had a beautiful smile. "I'm Annette Lewis from the Polinsky Children's Center. Jimmy, tell me what you want most."
"I want my mom. My real mom."
"What if I told you your mom was on the phone with a social worker this morning, and she'd like to see you back home." She reached out to touch him with silver wrist bangles and long brown fingers with rings.
Jimmy pushed her hand away and jumped down to stand on the floor. "I'm not going home until my mom comes here to pick me up. My real mom."
"So you don't want me to take you home?"
"No!" He felt angry and also scared. He felt like crying.
"Okay, nobody is going to make you do anything you don't want to do. I promise."
"The thing I saw at my house was not my mom. My mom loves me. That thing is—empty inside. Hollow. Like a rotten apple." He stammered, looking for words, but the image overwhelmed him: the way a freshly cut apple quickly turns brown; the way you bite into an apple and it makes a hollow sound, because there is a tunnel with brown stuff, and when you look at it, a green caterpiller is looking at you from inside the apple, wiggingling its antennas. Gross.
Miss Lewis must have read his mind. She put her hands together pensively and said: "Okay, sweetie, tell you what. I'll lcall your mom and ask her to come here. Does she drive?"
"My real mom is a nurse. She can do anything."
"Good. Why don't we call her now?" She took out a cell phone. "What's your phone number?"
"I don't want to talk to the other thing."
"Do you remember your phone number?"
Jimmy told her. "You talk to her first, okay?" He held Miss Lewis's brown pants leg with both hands, feeling some sense of protection with her long thigh between him and the phone.
"Hello, Mrs. Mendez?" Miss Lewis paused. Jimmy tried to read the look on her face. She made all sorts of little changes with her large brown eyes and beautiful white around the brown part, but Jimmy couldn't read her thoughts. "This is Annette Lewis from the Polinsky Center. I have Jimmy here with me." Pause. "Yes, he is fine." She glanced at Jimmy while listening. "Yes, of course. Want to talk with him?"
Jimmy felt his heart pounding as she handed him the phone. He shook his head and gestured that she must hold it, so she held it and he gingerly stretched his neck, leaning over her firm, warm, safe thigh. He gripped her pants with his fists as he put his ear against the phone. He said in a tiny quaver: "Mom?"
"Jimmy," said the thing. "Come home now."
Jimmy shoved the phone away, whacked Annette's hand, and ducked under the bed. "That's not my mom. That's the thing that killed my parents!" he yelled. He found an old black plastic knife someone had dropped long ago, and held it up like a stabbing knife to protect himself. He held the knife in both hands over one shoulder, beside his face, and pulled his feet up close so that he was almost in a ball sitting against the wall, as far from Annette as he could get.
"Shall I call you back later?" Annette said while kneeling beside the bed. She made to effort to come under and retrieve Jimmy. "Really?" she asked. "Really?" From under the bed, Jimmy tried to read her eyes. He got a confusing set of messages. Annette alternately rolled her eyes in shock or surprise, then nodded in agreement, and then shook her head in disagreement. "They will have to come to the Polinsky Center then. There is no way I can drop him off at someone else's house. And you'll have to sign over custody to his aunt and uncle. What's that?" She waggled a finger for Jimmy to come to her. He laid his knife aside and cautiously crawled out from under the bed. He trusted this Annette Lewis with the nice smile and warm eyes. He walked over and put his arms around her while she still knelt on the floor. He laid his head on her shoulder and wept softly. He heard the phone snap shut and disappear with a little zip noise into her pocket. She put her arms around him, lifted him onto the bed, and sat beside him. "Jimmy, your mom—"
"That wasn't my mom."
"The woman on the phone claims to be your mother."
"She's not."
"Let's pretend for a moment. She says she is unable to take you home at the moment, and she has asked your aunt Nellie and Uncle Sim to care for you. Would you like to go with them?"
"I want my mom back." He felt as though his heart were breaking, he missed her so. His dad too, but the mom-pain was so big that the dad-pain was sort of hidden behind it. He sobbed, and Annette soothed him. She held him close and stroked his hair. "You have a cousin Maribel, don't you?"
"Yes." Maribel was pretty nice.
"Your m—the woman I spoke with says that if I drive by, she'll sign the papers. It's a temporary remand of custody to the Walesky family. That means you can live with them. Of course they have to agree to it, but the woman I just spoke with says that they'd love to have you."
"Okay." He thought about times he'd played with Maribel, and it was pretty good. She was a year older, and could be a little mean when she was in a bad mood, but generally it was like having a sister. Since they were both only children, it seemed okay. At least he'd be with family.
"So is that okay with you?" Annette said.
"Yeah, I think so. At least they are family to me, and then I can wait for my mom to come for me when she gets back."
"Do you have any idea where your mom might have gone?" Annette asked with a very confused and troubled look.
Jimmy shook his head. He had no idea. None at all.
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