Chapter 1 Fallen Woman
If you had not fallen
Then I would not have found you
Angel flying too close to the ground
- Willie Nelson, "Angel Flying Too Close To The Ground"
Age 30, Mom age 50
I braced myself before I answered. Since the merciful new technology of the caller ID had shown me the unknown Houston number, I wasn’t completely ambushed. “Hello?’ I flinched in that suspended second before the speaker’s response sprayed shrapnel through the silence.
He had found her unconscious at an abandoned gas station. “She was bleeding,” he said, “from her mouth and – and – you know, her bottom.” I squeezed my eyes shut but the truth remained. The pain hit. My temples beat objection, hardly containing reality. I thought I might fall. Yet I stood, held the phone to my ear, frozen, noiseless. I could picture her there, lying on her side in the gravel.
It was summer. She probably wore shorts, and wasn’t covered as well as she would want to be, in the most vulnerable state. Maybe she wore an old t-shirt, her hair wild, dusty against the slab. Maybe the blood trickled, and dried. Was it enough to pool? Had someone kicked her? Had she passed out before falling? Hit her head? Was she there for an hour? A day?
The Voice broke in again about calling an ambulance, calling me, and then remained anonymous despite my asking. I realized he would hang up without revealing himself. “Please!” How did he know who she was? She didn’t have any I.D. How did he know my number? How did he know he should call me? Click.
The blessing? At least he called and she was alive. For now. Of course I was still distraught, and even though I had lived it, been with her, been her daughter, one question in particular consumed me. How had my own mother come to this?
