Page 73 of How Lulu Lost Her Mind

Her eyes flutter open, cloudy and unfocused.

“Mom. It’s me. Lou Ann.”

She blinks a few times, and her eyes focus on me. I take that as a good sign. The cloudiness is probably because of her high temperature. Lindsey is looking at Mom’s chart at the nurses’ station down the hall. I’ll ask her about it when she comes to the room.

“Where did you go?” Her voice is scratchy.

I reach for a cup of watery crushed ice. “I went home for a few hours.”

“I need you to get me out of here.”

She opens her mouth, and I spoon-feed her a little ice. “I will when you’re a bit better.”

“I’m fine.”

I give her more ice. “Have you watched any of your shows?” I ask to distract her.

“I don’t have a remote.”

“It’s right here.” I show her the combo remote control and speaker hooked to her bed rail. “Do you want me to find you something?”

“No.” She studies it intently, like she’s trying to figure out how it works. “Don’t turn it on.” She might look worse than she did last night, but she is making a heck of a lot more sense. She pushes the minus sound button, then gazes up at me. “Get me out of here.”

“Let’s wait to hear from your doctor first.”

“He’s in on it. They’re all in on it.”

“What?” Confused, I put the ice on a bedside tray.

“Wynonna’s doing their dirty work.”

I blow out a deflated breath. I don’t ask what “dirty work” means because I don’t want to know what Wynonna is stealing now.

“That bitch is stealing my underwear.”

My head snaps back. Bitch? Forget that she doesn’t have underwear anywhere near this hospital; my mother said “bitch.” No way that just happened. No way I heard that right.

“I saw her give my black lacys to that other bitch with the red hair.”

Again? The woman in bed looks like my mom. Her voice sounds like my mom’s, but I’ve never heard a curse word pass my mom’s lips. Not once, let alone twice in the same conversation.

Lindsey comes in and tosses her tote bag on a chair. “How ya doing, Patricia?”

“Who are you?”

Lindsey doesn’t seem fazed that Mom doesn’t recognize her, but it reminds me of the first night at Sutton Hall and scares me shitless.

“I’m your good friend Lindsey.” She takes Mom’s hand and smiles.

Mom yanks her hand away. “You’re in on it with the rest of them.”

“I’m here to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“You’re huge! Huge people are sneaky bastards.”

I glance at Lindsey out of the corner of my eye. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I was forewarned before I came in.” She puts her hands on the bed rail. “Patricia isn’t quite herself yet.”