Cat (Wildflowers 4)

"Ugh," Misty cried.

"Yes," I said nodding. "My thoughts were disgusting, but I couldn't stop that either. I'm actually leaving out half of it," I told her.

"Forget that. What did you do?" Jade asked. She looked like she understood the madness that had taken control of me, like she'd felt it herself before and she wanted to know how I had handled it. She was leaning forward, practically ready to lunge off her seat at my response.

"I tried to stand by reaching up to the sink and pulling myself to my feet. When my hand slipped off the ceramic, I broke into another fit of hysterics. It was as if the bathroom was coming alive and every part of it, every fixture, was trying to avoid me like I was contaminated or something or maybe, shocked by what I looked like in the 'perfect party dress.'

"My laughter seemed to come from a lower and lower place in my body now. It rolled up in small, thunderous peals, flowing through my throat and echoing in my mouth and my ears. I was on all fours, crawling, and that made me laugh harder. Everything I did, every thought I had, every breath I could take, brought a new surge of hysterics.

"I was afraid it was never going to end. It was like having the hiccups and doing everything possible to stop them, but nothing works, know what I mean?"

They all nodded quickly, especially Jade.

"I crawled up to my bedroom door, the door that was always supposed to be closed. That struck me funny, too: always supposed to be closed. I might die in here before I can get to the door, I thought, but my mother would think that's fine. It was proper.

"I reached the knob and turned it, falling back as I did so. There I was on my back on the bedroom floor, my arms out, looking up at my ceiling again. I was laughing loudly now. My whole body trembled so much, I thought I must be shaking the whole house.

"Yet, neither my father nor my mother heard me. My mother was running the vacuum cleaner downstairs. I turned myself over on my stomach and I crawled out of my bedroom. My laughter stopped for a few moments and I caught my breath and thought it might be over. Whatever it was might be done, but when I reached the top of the stairway and looked down those steps, I started to giggle again.

"I reached out and put my hands down on the next step and then I began to slide, laughing as I did so. My mother must have finally heard something strange. She flipped off the vacuum cleaner and listened and then went into the living room where my father was watching television.

"'Turn that down,' I heard her say. I was halfway down the stairs on my stomach. He did what she demanded and they both listened.

"Moments later they were at the foot of the stairs, looking up at me, both their faces so twisted and confused by the sight of me, which of course, struck me funny.

"'What are you doing?' my mother screamed. 'You're ruining your new dress. What are you doing?'

"'I'm going to the dance, Mother,' I said. I slid down another step or two. 'I know you're not happy about it, but I'm on my way,' I added and I laughed and laughed until I missed a step with my hand and tumbled to my right, over on my shoulder and then my whole body seemed to rise and float as I did a somersault, landing on my back and crying out.

"In seconds I was at their feet. They both looked so surprised and shocked. I wanted to laugh again, but the pain was too sharp.

'My God,' my mother said bringing her hand to her mouth, 'what's wrong with her? Is she. . . drunk?'

"She knelt down to smell, twitching her nose like a squirrel. I closed my eyes on her face, choked on a chuckle that was caught in my throat, and passed out.

"When I woke up, I was in an ambulance on my way to the hospital.

"And you know what? I was still wearing that ridiculous party dress," I said. "I guess I babbled quite a bit, revealing enough to draw the paramedic's attention and concern.

"At the hospital emergency room, they put me through some Xrays and examined me before they gave me a sedative. I slept through the remainder of the night and when I woke in the morning, my mother was sitting at my bedside staring out the window. She had her chin resting on her open palm and her elbow against her body. She looked so thoughtful and for a moment, so much younger than she was. Actually," I said glancing at Doctor Marlowe, who knew it all of course, "I didn't recognize her."

"Didn't recognize your own mother?" Misty asked. "Why not?"

"At the time I didn't even recognize myself," I replied.

Misty scrunched her nose and her eyebrows dipped toward each other.

"I don't remember this part well, but my mother does. She knows every moment of it by heart and recites it from time to time, reminding me what I put her through:'

"Huh?"

"Let her talk," Jade stammered, her hands clenched into fists and resting on her knees. Misty sat back quickly. "'Where am I?' I asked my mother.

"She dropped her hand and turned to me. Her face aged back to where it should be in seconds.

"'You're in the hospital,' she said. 'You passed out at home. They gave you tests and found nothing wrong with you, but you said things.'

"'What things?'