Page 19 of That Last Carolina Summer

“This is just a wellness visit.” I groaned inwardly as the approaching traffic light turned red.

It was a short trip to the doctor’s office, but having this conversation with my mother would make it seem interminable.

I forced a light tone. “We want to make sure your mind is sharp so you can continue winning at bridge.”

“My mind is sharp as a tack,” she bit out. I heard the unmistakable click of her seat belt being unlatched. “Let me out of this car this minute.”

I glanced at the GPS screen on the dash. We had less than three miles to go. I just needed to keep my mother inside the car. “Addie!” I shouted. “Get off your damned phone and help me.”

“Watch your language!” Mother said. “I know I raised you much better than that. Just you wait until I tell your father. You’re not too old for a spanking.” She settled back into her seat, her arms crossed and wearing an expression of the aggrieved and disappointed mother.

“Where are we going?” Mother asked again as I pulled into the parking lot of the office complex.

“It’s a surprise,” I said. “Addie will help you out of the car.” I slammed the car into Park, grabbed the purse, and exited. Leaning against my closed door, I took a few deep breaths.

Addie slowly got out and glowered at me. “What’s your problem, Phoebe? Is it your time of the month?”

Blood rushed to my head while I tried not to allow Addie’s dig to affect me.

If I’d had more than an hour of sleep the night before, I might have even succeeded.

“I’m sorry to pull you away from your OnlyFans site, but in case you didn’t notice, our mother is confused and needs assurance.

I’m doing the best I can, but I can’t do this alone. ”

“Well, I’ve been doing it alone for months, and now it’s your turn.”

I wanted to shake her. “This isn’t about taking turns,” I said, not willing to admit that I’d had that exact thought during my meltdown in the closet.

“This is about our mother . I’m sorry that the burden of her care has fallen on you, but you didn’t tell me what was happening.

And this was your choice, remember? You wanted someone to raise your daughter and pay your bills while you refused to grow up.

It seems to me that the bill has come due. ”

“You think raising a daughter as a single mom is easy?”

“It doesn’t seem that you’ve been doing much raising at all.”

She took a step toward me. “So much for this being about our mother . I should have known you’d find an opportunity to make me feel bad. You’ve always been jealous of me and my relationship with Mother, and now you’re just trying to punish me.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” I threw my arms wide to emphasize my point and to stop my hands from causing harm to my sister. “I want the best for her just as much as you do. Stop making this all about you!” I was shouting now. I glanced around to see if anyone was watching.

That’s when I spotted our mother making her way across the parking lot toward the street. “I’ll get her,” I said, already sprinting toward her, but not before I saw that Addie was crying.

By the time I’d corralled our mother into the building, Addie had dried her eyes and was avoiding engaging with me at all.

She slid her arm through Mother’s and led her to a seat in the waiting room.

I usually don’t notice office artwork, but the framed watercolors of various birds caught my attention.

I found myself smiling at a small painting of a bluebird, the attention to detail so lifelike I swore it would move.

“Where’s my pocketbook?” Mother began looking around her chair with short, agitated movements.

I grabbed the wallet from the purse and tucked it into the waistband of my jeans before handing her the pocketbook, mentally crossing my fingers that she wouldn’t look inside.

After signing in at the front desk, a middle-aged receptionist sitting behind a small nameplate identifying her as Stephanie Ray greeted me with a warm smile and handed me a clipboard full of forms. I took it to a seat out of view from Mother so she wouldn’t see me with her wallet.

I sighed with relief when I spotted her credit cards and her checkbook, and began filling out the forms.

I’d reached the final page before encountering a question I couldn’t answer. I took the clipboard back to the receptionist and asked, “What does it mean by health care power of attorney?”

Stephanie looked behind me to where Addie and Mother were looking through an issue of Vogue . “Is that your mother?”

“Yes. And my sister.”

“Are either one of you her power of attorney or legal guardian?”

I stared at her blankly. “I have no idea.”

A flash of sympathy crossed the receptionist’s face.

“Most of our patients will usually have one or the other who brings them to their appointments. Most of the time it’s a spouse or child who is selected to help make decisions on the patient’s behalf if the patient is unable to make them herself.

There’s a health care power of attorney and also a financial one, but we deal mostly with healthcare POAs. ”

I turned to get Addie’s attention, but she’d left to use the restroom on the other side of the waiting room, leaving our mother eating candy from a dish on the coffee table, a dozen wrappers surrounding her chair.

I faced the receptionist again. “I’m sorry—I don’t really know the answer to that question. Can I call the office later once I figure it out?”

“Of course.” Her eyes showed understanding. “Does your mother have a computer?”

I thought of the clunky ancient laptop on my mother’s desk. “Yes, she does, but—”

“Great,” the receptionist said. She slid over a business card and underlined a web address on the bottom.

“Have her create an account on the portal so she can access her medical records and medications. There’s also a place to upload forms. Make sure she clicks the box that will allow us to share her care plan with you or your sister.

That way we can discuss her care while we wait for you to locate the paperwork. ”

I stared down at the business card, recognizing it as the one I’d used to call for the appointment. L. M. Fitch. I’d forgotten to ask Celeste if she and the doctor were related. Not that it would have changed anything, but it might have given me a point of reference.

Looking up at the receptionist, I said, “I’ll have to help my mother navigate the website...” I let my voice fade away.

I thanked the receptionist and walked back to my mother as Addie returned from the bathroom and resumed looking through the fashion magazine.

I knelt on the floor and began picking up the wrappers, blocking the view of the candy dish so Mother would stop eating the chocolates.

I counted twelve as I crumpled each one in my hand, feeling disheartened since Mother was a habitual calorie counter.

“Addie?” I said.

My sister looked up from the magazine.

“Are you Mother’s power of attorney?”

She screwed up her face. “I don’t have a clue.”

My stomach turned. Every time I thought I’d cleared a hurdle, a brick wall appeared. “Never mind.”

“Where are we?” My mother twisted in her seat to see the space around her. She spotted a woman sitting next to an elderly man, presumably the woman’s father. “Who are you?” Mother demanded, her tone agitated.

“I’m sorry,” I mouthed to the woman then reached behind me and grabbed the candy dish before thrusting it at my mother. “Would you like a piece?”

“I don’t eat empty calories, Phoebe. It’s a good habit, and one which you might want to consider.”

Addie snickered, her attention still focused on the magazine.

“I need to use the ladies’ room.” Mother stood and began marching toward a door marked PRIVATE .

“Hang on,” I said, gently pulling her back. “That’s not the bathroom. Addie knows where it is.”

Addie slammed down the magazine. “Come on, Mother. This way.” They headed toward a short hallway while I sat down and put my head in my hands. I felt as if I were experiencing a waking nightmare where I show up for class to find out I’m late for an exam I hadn’t studied for.

“Miss Manigault? The doctor is ready to see your mother now.”

I lifted my head to see the door marked PRIVATE standing open, a man in a white lab coat holding an iPad in the threshold. I stood. “She’ll be right back. She...” I pointed toward the hallway where Addie and our mother had disappeared then stopped midsentence.

The doctor was looking at me with an odd expression that might have mirrored my own.

I took in his tieless shirt, his light brown hair bleached by the sun, its bright tips touching the top of his collar.

These details didn’t register right away because I was focused on his eyes.

They were an earthy green, the hue made more vibrant by the contrast of his bronzed skin.

I’d seen them before. Only once, but they were hard to forget.

They were still the color of the marsh in summer.

My gaze flickered down to his neck, and I wondered if he still wore the shark’s tooth on a leather strap.

As if feeling the weight of my gaze, he reached up and scratched his chest.

“I’m Phoebe Manigault. I think we’ve met before.” The words were ridiculously inadequate, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“We’ve definitely met before.” He glanced down at his iPad. “So my new patient Elizabeth Manigault...” He glanced at the receptionist, who was pretending not to be listening.

“Is my mother,” I finished for him.

“Of course. And I’m sorry, I usually go over my list of new patients, but I didn’t get a chance this morning.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Did my grandmother send you?”