Killing Cousins by Rett MacPherson Page B

in the hospital.”
    â€œWhat?” I exclaimed. “Why? Is she all right?”
    â€œShe thought the kitchen chair was the toilet,” she said. “This morning, she mistook the kitchen chair for the toilet.”
    That was hardly something to put somebody in the hospital for. When I was eight years old, my parents were having a dinner party. I was fast asleep and got up and peed in the kitchen trash can. They didn’t put me in the hospital for that. “What else, Sylvia? Surely there is more to it.”
    â€œThen she couldn’t remember who I was,” she said. Her voice cracked, giving away more emotion than I would guess she wanted to. “And she didn’t know who she was…so I called the doctor. He said to take her to the hospital.”
    For the life of me I couldn’t figure out why she hadn’t told me this right away. But that’s Sylvia for you. If she had told me as soon as she saw me, she would probably have been too emotional. Asking me about the biography gave her a chance to even out her emotions.
    â€œI was wondering if you could go by and see her. We have no family. Except for each other,” Sylvia said.
    And that pretty much said it all. Sylvia was all Wilma had, but, more important at the moment, Wilma was all Sylvia had.
    â€œI don’t want her to get too lonely. I can’t stay there all the time, you know. Could you go by with the kids this afternoon? She’s at Wisteria General. She loves your children,” she said.
    â€œWell, of course. My gosh, Sylvia. You don’t even have to ask. Have you called Father Bingham? I’m sure he’ll send the nuns over to visit as well. Everybody in New Kassel loves Wilma. She won’t be alone.”
    â€œWould you call him for me?”
    â€œSure,” I said.
    With that Sylvia walked away. She and Wilma were all that was left of their family. They had had an older brother who was long dead, and he had had two children who were both dead now too. I suppose he had had grandchildren, but I didn’t think that they lived anywhere in Missouri, much less New Kassel.
    I wasted no time in phoning Father Bingham, who in turn was as surprised as I was and said he’d be right over. I rounded up my kids and headed out to Wisteria General.

    Hospitals can be places of great joy but also so depressing that you feel your spirit sink to your toes as soon as you enter the building. It just depends on your reason for being there. A birth or a surgery that saves a life, and you think the hospital is the greatest place ever. But that same building can turn into a dark vortex, sucking the life right out of you if you’re not there for a happy event.
    Wilma lay in a hospital bed with one of those generic blue-mint gowns on, looking totally out of place and devoid of identity. I knew it was Wilma but it wasn’t Wilma. I left Rachel in charge of Mary and Matthew in the waiting room, something I shouldn’t have done because Mary will push her older sister to the limit of adolescent patience, but what else was I to do? They wouldn’t let the kids come back to the room. It wasn’t officially visiting hours.
    I reached out to touch Wilma’s arm and she jumped before I even made contact. She opened her eyes and looked around the room, finally resting her questioning gaze on to me. Her hair was down, long and silver, wrapping itself around oxygen tubes and IV lines.
    â€œWilma?” I asked.
    â€œDid you bring me something to drink?” she asked.
    She thought I was a nurse.
    â€œWilma, do you know who I am?”
    Her blank stare answered the question for me. Tears welled up in my eyes and a lump instantly grew in the back of my throat. She was afraid, I could tell. She wasn’t afraid because she didn’t know me. She was afraid because somehow she knew she should have known me and didn’t.
    â€œIt’s Torie,” I said.
    â€œTorie,” she repeated