Chapter 3 - THE BOX MARLENE REFILLED EVERY SUNDAY
Marlene had been filling Sarah’s weekly pill organizer for four months.
Ethan felt stupid admitting that.
It started innocently.
Sarah hated the childproof pharmacy bottles.
Her anxiety medication, thyroid medication and occasional sleep aid sat on the kitchen counter.
Marlene organized them by day.
Sunday morning.
Seven little compartments.
“It saves her stress,” she told Ethan.
He thanked her.
Sarah thanked her.
Now the organizer was in Marlene’s purse.
Ethan brought it to the hospital pharmacy team.
The contents did not match Sarah’s prescribed schedule.
Two evening compartments contained extra sedative tablets.
One morning compartment contained half of a tablet that should never have been there.
Sarah stared at the pharmacist.
“Could I have done that?”
The pharmacist answered carefully.
“Anyone with access could have.”
Ethan hated the answer because it was accurate.
They returned home the next day.
Marlene was gone.
So was her car.
Rebecca remained with Lily.
“She tried to come back,” Rebecca said.
“When?”
“This morning. I wouldn’t let her in.”
Ethan looked at Lily.
She sat on the couch holding a pillow against her stomach.
Sarah knelt in front of her.
“Baby.”
Lily immediately started crying.
Sarah opened her arms.
Lily went into them.
Ethan watched both.
Marlene had spent months telling Ethan Sarah was becoming fragile.
He realized how often that language had shaped what he saw.
Sarah crying became instability.
Sarah sleeping became depression.
Sarah questioning Marlene became paranoia.
Sarah accepting help became proof she needed more.
Lily eventually told them what happened in the bedroom.
She had seen Marlene putting papers into her purse.
One fell out.
Lily recognized Sarah’s name.
She asked why Grandma had Mom’s hospital paper.
Marlene grabbed the page and told Lily adults handled adult problems.
Lily said she was going to tell Ethan.
Marlene tried to stop her from leaving.
Lily screamed.
Ethan arrived.
“Did she hurt you?” Sarah asked.
Lily shook her head.
“She scared me.”
Sarah closed her eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
Lily looked confused.
“You didn’t do it.”
The simplicity of that nearly broke Sarah.
Ethan sat beside them.
“What did she mean when she said you saw nothing?”
Lily wiped her nose.
“I saw her put Mom’s medicine in the yellow box.”
Sarah stiffened.
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“Which medicine?”
Lily did not know.
She described Marlene opening one bottle, taking something out, then opening another.
Ethan had been mowing.
Sarah had been inside preparing dinner.
Marlene had made the tea.
Sarah whispered:
“She did it on purpose.”
Ethan said:
“We don’t know that yet.”
Sarah turned toward him.
Anger flashed.
“My mother had my pill organizer. Lily watched her change it. I ended up in the hospital.”
“I believe you.”
“Then say it.”
Ethan understood.
For months he had softened everything.
Maybe your mom means well.
Maybe you forgot.
Maybe you’re tired.
“I believe Marlene changed your medication.”
Sarah’s eyes filled.
Ethan continued.
“I don’t know why.”
“I do.”
She stood.
“Because she’s been trying to convince everyone I can’t take care of myself.”
Ethan remembered the behavioral health evaluation request.
May you like
Sarah looked toward Lily.
“And she started before I got sick.”
