The One Where Veronica Mom Goes to the Sanitorium

Veronica turned the key in the back door, opening the door slowly and shutting it quietly behind her. It was fifteen minutes past nine.
“Is that you, sweetie?” Cheryl’s voice drifted out from the living room. The television was illuminating the darkened room.
“I’m home, Mom.”
“Are you hungry? There’s a plate of spaghetti for you in the stove.”
“Starving. Thanks.”
The plate was warm to the touch and Veronica put on the table as fast as possible, nearly dropping it. Three meatballs and a slice of garlic bread where arranged lovingly on the plate, framed by red sauce. She sat at the table quietly and ate.
Over the dinning room table was a large landscape her mother had painted last year. It was a view of the house in late summer from far across a field. The little yellow house stood alone against a vivid blue sky. There were no clouds. The field of wheat which surrounded in the house on three sides in real life was painted a soft golden, white gold and not quite ready for harvest. There were no people in view. Laundry hung on the line but it was household linens, the yellow and rose tinted rues of sheets and towels and the tiniest suggestions of washcloths. No clothing. There was a car, the car, red and dusty and threatening as the most vivid color in the painting.
The quality of the painting was of a world class caliber. Veronica knew her mother studied the styles of Andrew Wyeth and knew this was modeled to resemble a famous painting of his, but nothing about it suggested an amateur’s attempt at imitation. The landscape filled Veronica with a sense of dread.
Cheryl was a gifted artist and won competitions across the state. She was a prodigy. Her farmer parent’s didn’t have the money to send her to a private school but did the best they could with Sun City’s shrinking public school. Cheryl always seemed to paint and draw and she always seemed to improve. She won a scholarship to New York University.
Cheryl sometimes spoke about what life could have been if she went to New York. It was hard to imagine a city that big. It was hard to imagine so many people and none of them cared who you were or what you were doing in their city. Studying with professors would have been nice but she wanted to see the museums. She wanted to see the paints. The Met, MOMA, the Guggenheim. Cheryl repeated these names as if they were friends she once knew from long ago and thought of fondly.
When Cheryl was seventeen she became pregnant. Veronica disliked that phrase, became pregnant. Got pregnant. It sounded crude and equated pregnancy with getting a cold or getting the flu. One did not catch pregnancy like a virus, it was the logical conclusion of the reproductive act.
Veronica was a virgin and planned on staying that way until graduation. Seth knew this and seemed to be okay with the idea. Veronica wasn’t entirely sure she believe him and was always expecting pressure to put out but she was not going to get pregnant. There was no way to use birth control in this town. There was only one doctor and Dr. Barlow did not respect doctor-patient confidentiality. If she came to him seeking birth control pills, her parents would show up at the office. If she did manage to get a prescription, it’s be filled at Laudermilk’s, who would tell her parents that she was on the pill and therefore having sex. She could go out of town to another doctor but she didn’t have a car.
Buying condoms was impossible. She’d have to buy them from Old Man Laudermilk again and everyone would know. The moment she left the store, she’d have a scarlet letter attached to her bosom. Seth could buy them and everyone would know and they would know who he was going to use them with.
It was easier just to not have sex and deal with the messy complications. Cheryl’s complication was marriage to Keith. Cheryl was a married woman and seven months pregnant when she graduated high school. University and New York slipped away.
That was not going to happen to Veronica. She had a plan and that plan did not include formula and diapers. The knowledge that when Cheryl was Veronica’s age, she was already an expecting mother chilled Veronica to her bones.
Veronica could not remember clearly the first time Cheryl went into the hospital. Veronica was very young and Cheryl was pregnant with Christian. She couldn’t remember much but she remembered finding Cheryl asleep on the living room floor and an empty bottle next to her. Crying, Veronica ran to her Grandma McCoy’s house. After that it was blur of grown up talking and trying to calm Veronica. Grandma McCoy said Cheryl had to go to the hospital to take care of the baby. She’d be home soon. Grown-up comfortably reassuring Veronica that Cheryl would be home soon did not help her. It only made her more afraid. Why couldn’t they visit? Because the hospital was too far away. When would Mom be home? Soon.
Veronica has a clear memory of crying so fiercely that she gasped for breath and cried in convulsion that racked her little body. Grandma McCoy offered spoonful of sugar to calm the crying girl, shoving spoonful and after spoonful into her mouth. When Veronica refused to open her mouth, Grandma would pinch her nose so she’d have to gasp for air and shove in the sugar laden spoon.
Cheryl did eventually return home with a baby boy, who was named Christian. He was tow months old. No one would explain why Cheryl and Christian had to be in the hospital for two months.
The last incident was in May. It was raining. Cheryl went into Medicine Lodge for groceries. Veronica tagged along. While Cheryl was at the market, she went to the library.
Cheryl drove a ’67 Rambler Marlin. Black leather interior, dark blue exterior.
Cheryl’s hand rested in the middle of the steering wheel, on either side of a silver marlin embedded in a blue plastic medallion.
“Any thought about colleges, yet?”
“I’ve got time.”
“Not as much as you think. Next year will fly by. You should get the applications out as soon as you can.”
“I will.”
“I know you will. And don’t be afraid to go far away from home. It might be a nice change to leave the state.”
“Won’t you miss me?”
“You’re my baby, you know. I have to protect you.”
“I can take care of myself, Mom.”
“You think you can. You’ve got such spirit but you have no idea of what that man is capable of.”
“What man?”
“I’m doing this for you, sweetie.”
The windshield wipers beat a steady rhythm as they journey back and forth. Veronica looked at Cheryl, unsure what she would do. Cheryl did not take her eyes off the road. Her knuckles were white, tightly gripping the steering wheel on either side of the silver marlin.
The car swerved sharply to the left. It moved sideways across the road in an unnatural direction. The tires felt like they lost contact with the road, rain separating rubber from asphalt.
Then the road was gone entirely. The car hovered for a second and crashed into the tall grasses alongside the road. Veronica held out her arms, to brace herself. Then the horizon disappeared and reappeared and disappeared. She focused on the silver marlin in the middle of the steering wheel. It seemed to be a moving in a continuous loop, around and around.
It came to a rest. Everything stopped moving.
The world righted itself and Veronica knew the car was upside down, resting on its roof.
A few quiet moments passed. The engine ticked and it’s cooled and rain pattered lightly on the undercarriage of the car. She was going to vomit. She was going to scream. She couldn’t open her mother because she didn’t know which one would come out.
Hands and arms appeared through the windows and pulled Veronica out.
A State Trooper found the car, on its roof in the field beside the road.
She didn’t know how long she answered questions.
“What was the condition of the road?”
“It was raining.”
“Visibility?”
“Pretty bad, I guess. The windows kept fogging up.”
“What were you and your mother talking about?”
“Groceries.”
“Groceries?”
“We just went shopping. She forgot to get cheese.”
“Did she say anything before the car went off the road?”
“No.”
“Considering your mother’s…history, are you sure she said nothing…troubling?”
“My mother’s not suicidal, if that’s what you’re trying to say.”
“I was tying to be nice about it, but yeah, that’s what I’m saying.”
“She wasn’t trying to kill herself.”
“If she was and you’re not telling the truth, you’re not helping her. Suicide attempts are a cry for help.”
“That’s rubbish.”
“Statistically, the first attempt is practice. It’s not entirely serious but serious enough that they person wants to see how far they can go.”
“What do you know about statistics, Junior?”
“I know that the first attempt always has a mistake that stops them being successful.”
“Stop it!”
“Think about this. If she gets home and next time she has an accident, she’s going to succeed. And it will be your fault. Your fault she didn’t get help she needs now.”
“It’s not my fault!”
“Then how come you’re the only one of her kids she tried to take with her?”
“It was an accident. The rain was hard and she couldn’t see the road.”
“Right. We’ll go with that for now.”

***

That was the last time Cheryl went to Osawatomie, the state mental hospital for what Keith referred to as a “little rest.” She was gone from the last week of May and returned home on the Fourth of July. Everyone in town knew Cheryl was gone and why but never referred to the incident directly. They used pleasant euphemisms like “visiting family” or “seeing a friend” or “taking a little trip.”
Early that morning, Keith fried some eggs and drank a cup of coffee. Before dawn, he climbed into his truck and rattled his way down the driveway. Ten hours later the truck returned. Cheryl was sitting in the cab, dressed in a pale blue sun dress and a large white straw hat which she kept on her head with one hand.
Kath ran to Cheryl, latching both arms around her middle. Cheryl laughed, crouching down to hug her youngest. Keith silently unloaded luggage from the back of the truck.
“It’s good to be home, pumpkin.” She patted Kath on the head affectionately and looked up sharply at Christian and Veronica.
The sun was powerful in the afternoon and the direct sunlight on the top of Veronica’s head and made it feel like her hair was on fire. Veronica said, “I missed you, Mom.”
Cheryl reached into her purse and withdrew a small paper wrapped package. Veronica knew instantly what it was.
“Go put this in the cabinet with the others.”

“So what was the deal with Virgin Mary statues in the china cabinet?”
“Mom believes the cabinet is haunted.”
“Haunted?”
“With the spirit of a Civil War soldier. Apparently he’s restless.”
“Union or Confederate?”
“How would I know? I don’t believe in ghosts.”
“But this cabinet…”
“Mom fills it with Virgin Mary statues. She says it pacifies his spirit.”
“And no one thought this was strange?”
“It’s strange, but it’s easier not to argue with her. After all, they’re just statues in a cabinet, doing no one any harm.”