Free Sweet Tea: A Novel by Wendy Lynn Decker

passing a bald man wearing a white shirt and tie and carrying a clipboard. The man spoke to the desk clerk and then approached us.
    He extended his arm. “Hello, my name is Walter Shimmering. I’m the caseworker for your mother.”
    “Caseworker? What’s a caseworker?” I asked him. “Where’s my mama’s doctor? We want to talk to her doctor.”
    He relaxed from his rigid stance. I stared at the small leaf-shaped wine stain on top of his bald head. “I’m sorry, I forgot you’re new to this. You will see her doctor. I’m the person who oversees the patient’s paperwork and goes between Dr. Foster and the patient’s family—”
    CeCe jumped up. “What can you tell us?”
    “Come to my office and we’ll talk.” As he said that, he pointed toward the corridor.
    CeCe and I followed and waved Luke on as we passed the vending machine.
    Mr. Shimmering led us into an office with a medium-sized desk that was scattered with papers. CeCe sat directly across from him. Luke and I sat down in the chairs on each side of her. A bowl filled with candy sat on the corner of his desk. Luke quickly snatched a handful and stuffed his pocket.
    “First, I need some information on your mother,” Mr. Shimmering said. “Does she have any allergies?”
    “No,” CeCe replied.
    “Is she on any medication at this time?”
    “No.”
    “Has she ever been hospitalized before?”
    CeCe straightened in her seat. “Only when she gave birth to us, as far as I know.”
    Mr. Shimmering laid his pen down on the desk, removed his glasses, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Your mother is in a state of psychosis. She’s heavily medicated with a medication called Haldol. She’s sleeping comfortably now. But when she’s awake, she becomes combative.” He glanced away, then back to us, and said, “We had to restrain her.”
    “Restrain her?” CeCe yelped, clenching her hands together. “But my mama wouldn’t hurt a fly!”
    “What’s restrain mean?” Luke whispered behind CeCe’s back.
    “Tell you later,” I said to him.
    “You have to remember, she’s not in her regular state of mind,” Mr. Shimmering continued. “She’s not acting like ‘your mama’ right now.”
    “So what exactly is wrong with her?” I said as soon as he stopped for a breath.
    A long pause later, he said, “At this point in time, the doctor has diagnosed her with schizophrenia. But he’s still doing tests.”
    I knew it, I thought, remembering the talk show. Now, I didn’t want to believe it.
    The phone rang, and Mr. Shimmering held up his finger. “One minute.”
    I stared at CeCe. Her eyes looked hard at work trying not to cry. I thought I’d be glad when a doctor confirmed my beliefs. But I decided not to believe him, at least for a while. It could be something else , I thought. Maybe a brain aneurism, even.
    We all sat staring at Mr. Shimmering, urging him with our eyes to hang up the phone. Finally, he did.
    “Where was I? Oh, yes, the doctor has diagnosed your mother with paranoid schizophrenia.”
    Paranoid. He didn’t say that the first time, only schizophrenia.
    “I know, you said that already,” CeCe reminded him. “What are you going to do to fix it?”
    Mr. Shimmering’s face turned pale. “I’m sorry, but this is not like a broken arm. It can’t be fixed.” He scratched his red leaf. “It can be controlled—with the right medication, of course.”
    “What is the right medication?” CeCe asked.
    “It’s not that simple,” he said. “Each person responds differently to medication. Where one works for one patient, it might not for another. We need to keep her here awhile so we can monitor her.”
    CeCe turned around and looked toward Luke and me. What could we say? What could we do? We were at the mercy of the hospital and this mannequin of a man as our information advisor. CeCe, Luke, and I couldn’t take care of Mama anymore; we had to leave her so the doctors could. And although I worried about Mama, thoughts