Wouldn’t Change a Thing Read Free Page B

Kools she had hidden in her pants pocket and lit one. She looked at each passerby and asked me, “Don’t you hear that bitch talking to me?”
    I turned to see if a woman had tried to get our attention.
    My mother popped the collar of her starched white shirt. “She’s got one more time to call me out my name.”
    A security guard approached us. “Is everything okay here?” He pulled a radio from its holder on his wide belt.
    She gave him a vicious once-over. She pointed her finger at him and beckoned him to come closer. “What do you think? I know you hear her too.”
    Nervous, I chimed in, “Officer, everything is fine. We’re going to Strawberry Suds and Dreams.”
    I guided her away from the fountain, upset that I’d left the house alone with her and without her medication. We were supposed to get perfume and then chicken breast sandwiches from Chicken Delite once we returned home. Only Aunt Mavis could calm her down in these instances. This episode had carried over from last night and I needed a way to get her out of this mall. Mama pointed to Strawberry Suds and Dreams before I could direct her attention to the exit.
    We walked into the store as she muttered curses to the invisible woman stalking her. She lifted her hands, dropped them, and said through clenched teeth, “I ain’t doing it!” As cool as you please, her attention shifted to Hannah, a perky salesgirl pitching soaps and lotions at infomercial speed. Pink and red mister in hand, she moved toward us with a reserved smile.
    â€œHi, would you like to try our strawberry mist? Today’s special is buy two, get one free.”
    Mama extended her left wrist to the young lady, whose pitch quickened with her interest. “It’s a light mist and part of the Strawberry Suds and Dreams Relaxation Collection.” She tossed shoulder-length curls to the left.
    Mama ran her wrist under her nose. She shook her head, then insisted we leave. “I told you I don’t have a gun!” she shouted.
    Hannah inched away from us to the register. She picked up the telephone and asked security to come to the store. I pulled Mama’s arm toward the store exit. Hannah’s call would trigger the worst in my mother and we had to leave. She dashed my hopes when she dropped to the floor, Indian-style, and beat the floor with her fists.
    Her voice raised two octaves, startling shoppers who formed a small circle around her. “You can’t make me kill President Reagan!”
    She bushwhacked the floor until blood trickled from her hands. The same security guard from the fountain broke through the circle of onlookers. He radioed nine-one-one, and a woman in the circle pulled me into her warm embrace. While others whispered, she knelt beside me and said, “I’ll be with you until the ambulance comes. Don’t be scared.”
    â€œCan you call my Aunt Mavis?”
    â€œI’ll find a pay phone and call after they take your mother. I can’t leave you here by yourself.”
    She stood with me as paramedics entered the store with a gurney. Mama fought them with all her might, looking past me and my guardian angel. I panicked as a needle appeared and the male paramedic shot my mother’s left arm with precision. She lay still as they hoisted her on the gurney.
    â€œWhere are you taking her?” my guardian angel asked the paramedics.
    â€œGeorgia Mental. What can you tell us about her?” he asked.
    I spoke up. “She hears voices. She didn’t take her meds.”
    â€œSounds like skits,” said the female paramedic. I watched them take my mother away. After sifting through her purse for change, my guardian angel found a pay phone and called Aunt Mavis. Her lips were moving, but I heard nothing as people passed us. They pointed at me, pity covering their faces. Minutes later, we were seated at the fountain again.
    â€œYour Aunt Mavis is on her way from