(Medical, August 8, 2015 @ 0207 Hours)
“Who’s there?” She side-eyed my long arms. Chickasaw sun circles, garfish with mouth open. An ivory-billed woodpecker’s spreading wings fell out of the short sleeves of my uniform shirt, fading at each wrist. Peeking out my collar, the beak of it. My head, a clean scalp, freshly shaven before bed.
She was either faking or couldn’t move anything aside from her eyes. Dancing them between Captain Diaz and my arms as her head and body rested on one side, deep into the shag carpet. Her gray-white hair streamed in all directions like she was suspended in frozen water. She looked a little like my mother. I stood still and took it all in. She wasn’t able to put her eyes on New Guy yet. I couldn’t wait.
“You’re here to steal my stuff again?” She closed her eyes tight as if she was expecting one of us to hit her.
“Are you hurting anywhere?” I asked, kneeling next to her small body. She was so tiny and pale. “Can you move?”
“Is that the felon or the tiny hobo talking?” she asked, as her eyes lunged open then back and forth, like she was nervous, between my tattoos and Cap’s messed-up hair, his untucked and wrinkled shirt, then down to the untied laces of his boots. “I said, are you slobs here to rob me again?”
“Who’s the hobo?” Cap laughed while holding his bruised ribs and looked at me and then New Guy. “Fuck that’s funny.”
New Guy didn’t laugh.
“We are the fire department,” I said. “You called us.”
“I wanted the ones on TV, not this.” She pressed her hand deeper into the carpet like she was trying to lift herself, but did not move. “John, get your gun, they are here again.”
“I am going to roll you onto your back and my partner is going to lift your legs from the front,” I said softly. “Just like last time.”
We slowly tipped her over. Legs curled and wet. I rested her back against my thighs and waist. I could feel her soak into me. New Guy kneeled in front and supported her from the knees like she was going into labor. He looked at me for answers.
“Cap, can you grab a towel out of the bathroom and set it on the bed?” I asked, since he was already looking around the room for something.
“Support her from behind the knees,” I said.
“Ew,” New Guy said. “I got some on me.”
“Seriously,” I said, as I shook my head from side to side.
Cap came back with a small washcloth and a cordless phone.
“Found it,” he said and raised his sunglasses to the top of his head while tossing a small towel in my direction without looking. He held the phone and stared at her, back toward the bathroom, then at the phone again.
I grabbed beneath those soft arms and barely lifted, while New Guy hoisted his forearm under both legs like he was going to do reps with her body. We lowered her to the bed in a sitting position. I kept one hand on her shoulder for stability.
“Why is this boy with you?” Her eyes squinted at his face. “He looks twelve.”
Cap held his side and doubled over in laughter. I broke my own protocol and laughed too. New Guy was eighteen and did look young. Probably could pass for sixteen; twelve was a stretch. But his face twisted like he had been told that before.
“Go into the bathroom and get her incontinence undergarments.” My finger pointed the way for him. “This time you are changing her. I’ll train you.”
“Is he your son?” she asked.
“He wishes,” I laughed again. Like I was trying to hold in a cough, but couldn’t. What a bad habit, I thought.
“Look how tiny he is,” she said and then pointed at Cap. “Is he his son?”
“He’s not my son,” Cap said while wiping his eyes. “She is killing me.”
“It is his son,” I whispered, with my index finger up to my lips. “Shhh. No one’s told him yet.”
“It’s our secret,” she smiled and winked.
The daughter finally showed up and grabbed the Depends from New Guy’s hand while he stood there.
“Again, Mom?” She held the small head into her side and brushed silver hair with spread fingers. “I am so sorry you guys had to come out here again tonight. I promise this will be the last time. I will have her fully moved into my place by tomorrow.”
We went back to the station and washed our uniform pants and shirts —even Cap did. We showered, went to our rooms, then lay down, and I waited for her to wake us again. A little after two in the morning we went back to her. She was on the floor in the same spot, but this time her eyes were closed. Not accusing us of anything. Colder than usual. Colder than the room. Her blood settled into the body’s saddest valleys. Jaw stiff and closed. Cap leaned in and over her body, searching for something. He stood up straight and went into the bathroom.
“How did she call us?” he asked as he came back into the room. “You calling it, B? Is she gone?”
Somehow she looked even more like my mother. She was now heavy. Disappearing deeper into the carpet. Floating, but not floating away.
Ibe Liebenberg is a citizen of the Chickasaw Nation and a recent winner of the Sowell Emerging Writers Prize.
