Mad Max: Unintended Consequences Read Online Free PDF Page B

around.”
    I tried to remember where their house was. I'd been there a time or two, but all I remembered was it was way out on the east side of Richmond, beyond the farm community where I grew up.
    “We can take Em and Alex on some weekends. Will that help?”
    “Absolutely.”
    Keeping control of my emotions was practiced conditioning that started not long after I became a single mother. Perhaps it was a way of protecting myself. Perhaps it was necessary to keep my family moving forward. I never could decide which it was, but it didn't matter. Being in control kicked in whenever there was a crisis.
    “Now, Colonel, don't pull that face. No arguing. You both need some rest. We'll work through this together. Okay?”
    The Colonel looked at Bette and then smiled.
    An hour before the first bus was due, Bette bundled the Colonel into the car and drove away. I used the time to snoop into every room in the house. Emilie's bedroom was neat and organized. Alex's belonged to a ten-year-old boy. The only organized place was his desk. The master bedroom was littered with Whip's dirty clothes and shopping bags of handbags Merry bought the day of the accident. I peeked in the bags and decided I wanted to borrow the yellow Prada.
    I moved into the fourth bedroom with its private bath. Even though it was the least decorated room, too many things covered every flat surface. I tucked the clutter out of sight, unpacked, and tried to relax. I propped the battered toy in the middle of the bed. I sent Jack a text with a quick update on Merry's status.
    I missed hearing the bus but not the cry from the foyer. “Gramma, Grampop, I'm home.”
    Emilie.
    “I'm upstairs.”
    “Mad Max? Oh my God, is that you?”
    “‘Tis indeed.”
    Emilie nicknamed me Mad Max following an argument with my daughter years back. Merry wanted the kids to call me “Grandma.” I wanted them to call me “Max.” Merry said it wasn't polite and nixed the idea. I got angry. I said I had the right to choose what my grandkids called me.
    “Don't be mad,” Emilie said.
    “How about Mad Max?”
    Emilie grinned.
    I liked the alliteration, plus the mad part fit my rougher edges. I liked the old Thunderdome movies too. Even though Mel Gibson played Mad Max, I thought I might get some mileage out of Tina Turner's role somewhere down the road. I had been Mad Max ever since.
    Emilie ran upstairs and into my arms. She squeezed the breath out of me. Not until she released me did she see my black eye and bandage. Before she could get upset, I assured her everything would heal.
    “Nothing hurts except for a headache. Don't worry.”
    Emilie picked her way around the guest room before pouncing on the toy. “What's this?”
    “That, dear child, is Puss ‘n Boots.”
    “Where did he come from?”
    “My grandmother, your great grandmother, made it for your mom for her first Christmas.”
    “I've never seen it before.”
    “When Mom outgrew her toys, I tucked it away.”
    “May I have it?”
    “Not yet. I'm going to hang onto it for a little longer.”
    “You're here. Mom must be a lot worse than anyone will tell me. All Alex and I know is she was in an accident.” Emilie perched on the side of the bed and fiddled with the old toy. “I mean, I know it's bad—I feel it—but Gramma and Grampop treat me like a baby. Will you tell me the truth?”
    I looked into a very serious, very scared face. I told her what the doctors said, how her mother was bandaged, and what treatments she was getting. Unvarnished truth tempered by the reality of talking to a twelve-year-old.
    “They won't let me see her.”
    “I'll speak with your dad. You and Alex should see her. She doesn't respond right now, though.”
    “How long can you stay?”
    “Until Mom's better.”
    Emilie paled, beads of sweat popping out on her upper lip. Her eyes glazed over. I waited. She shook herself and rose on unsteady legs.
    “Don't plan on leaving soon. We're going to need you. Mom's never going to be