Can't Wait to Get to Heaven

The Unexplained

The very first day Elner had been brought to the hospital, La Shawnda McWilliams, a heavyset woman with freckles and skin the color of coffee with cream, had been the orderly on duty on Elner’s floor. At around four that afternoon of April 1, it was getting close to the end of her shift and she was glad; she had been on duty for twelve hours, and just like every other morning, La Shawnda had gotten up at four AM and fixed her mother’s breakfast, left it on the table for her, then ridden two buses across town, in order to arrive at the hospital by five-thirty. Just as she was about ready to leave for home that evening, she had received the call to come down and collect some personal effects for a patient. A nurse in ER had gathered Mrs. Shimfissle’s clothes, which in the excitement of the moment of her sudden awakening had been thrown on the floor.

When La Shawnda got there, the nurse quickly handed her a pair of maroon felt house slippers wrapped up in a brown plaid robe, and on top was a pair of large white cotton underpants. “Here,” the nurse said, “this goes with Shimfissle.” La Shawnda took the items and inquired, “No jewelry?” “No, this is all,” the nurse said as she hurried down the hall to take care of another patient who had just come in. La Shawnda looked at the small pile, not much, and figured by the looks of that robe the patient must be a charity case, poor lady. She didn’t know that the underpants almost hadn’t made the trip to the hospital either. Earlier that morning, Elner had even debated whether or not to put them on, but figured since she was going up a ladder, she’d better.

La Shawnda took the things and went into the utility room and pulled out a large white plastic bag that said PERSONAL EFFECTS, and in the process of refolding the robe she felt something soft in the pocket. She reached in and pulled out whatever it was, wrapped in a large white napkin with the letters D.S. embroidered in gold thread. She opened the napkin and saw the lump was a big piece of cake. “Huh,” she thought, “that poor lady must have put it in her pocket before she left home.” She poked it with her finger and it was still light and moist, like it had just come out of the oven. “It’s not stale yet.” She stood there wondering what to do with it. She knew they would not let the lady eat it while she was a patient. The hospital dietician, Miss Revest, was dead set against anything made with white flour or sugar. But still, La Shawnda hated to throw out a perfectly good piece of cake. And after all, it wouldn’t be stealing, they were instructed to throw out any old food, so she went over to the drawer and pulled out a Ziploc bag and slipped it inside. Her mother would just love to have that piece of cake. Her poor mother had been so sick lately, and hardly ever got out of bed. La Shawnda had had to bring her to Kansas City from her home in Arkansas. She knew her mother was unhappy having to live in a small apartment in the city, but she had no choice. She carefully folded the underpants and the robe, each smelling like fresh-baked cake. For a second there she was tempted, and thought about eating that cake herself, but didn’t. She placed the old lady’s things in a white plastic bag and took them downstairs and gave them to the woman’s niece.

When La Shawnda arrived home that night, she found her mother asleep in the living room, still in her nightgown. La Shawnda looked at her and thought, what a way for her to wind up, old and riddled with arthritis, with no insurance and not a dime to her name. Thank heavens the hospital had let her put her mother on her policy, or she would not have been able to afford any of her medications. Her poor little mother had worked as a domestic all her life, had raised five children by taking in washing and ironing after she got home from work and on weekends, and had never made more than seventy dollars a week in her entire life. Her only joy had been attending her church, but now she was too weak and feeble to go anymore, and it was all La Shawnda could do to get her to eat and keep her strength up. Her mother had brought up all her children in the church, but now with them all scattered across the country, only one sister still went. La Shawnda didn’t go anymore. No matter how much her mother insisted that God was good, she didn’t see it. It seemed to her that any so-called God that would let one of his so-called children suffer was not a God she cared to know. After she put her things down she went straight to the kitchen and took out a plate from the cabinet, pulled out a clean fork from the dishwasher, and walked back into the living room. “Momma,” she said, shaking her gently. “Wake up, honey. I have a surprise for you.” Her mother opened her eyes. “Oh, hey, baby. When did you get home?”

“Just now. Did you have much pain today, Momma?”

“Not too bad.”

“Look what I have for you.”

The old lady looked over and saw the piece of cake and said, “Oh, doesn’t that look good. And it smells good too!”

The next morning the alarm went off as usual at four AM and La Shawnda forced herself to get up and get ready for another day. After she dressed and went to the kitchen, she got the surprise of her life. The light was on and her mother was standing at the stove cooking. “Momma,” she said, “what are you doing up?”

Her mother said, “I just woke up, and I felt so much better this morning I thought I’d get up and do you some eggs.”

“Have you taken your medicine?”

“No, not yet. I had me the bestest dream last night. I dreamed I looked down and saw hundreds of little tiny golden hands rubbing all over me, and it felt so good, when I woke up I felt tingly all over. I tell you, honey, I think that cake must have cheered me up. I’ve been sick so long I forgot how good homemade cake is. I think it done woke up my taste buds. I’ve been thinking about making us some good old corn bread. What would you think about that?”

“Corn bread?”

“Yes. Maybe you could find some collards or turnip greens, or maybe some butter beans. Wouldn’t that just hit the spot?”