“About twenty-four hours.”
“Twenty-four hours?” Vickie runs a hand over her face. “Why did it take so long for someone to call us? I could have been here.” Tears fill her eyes and roll down her face. I take her in my arms and cradle her to my chest. “I should have been here,” she sobs. “She’s been all alone.”
I kiss the top of her head, but I remain silent. I don’t think there are any words in any language that would make her feel better. Now, she needs strength and the feel of another human being, one who loves her.
“She had no identification on her when she got here. We had to wait for her to wake up.”
“Can I see her?” She chokes on the question and bursts into tears. The nurse’s left cheek twitches. A door opens, and I hear footsteps.
“Vickie.” I know that voice. I remember it from a few months ago. Vickie moves out of my arms and turns to that idiot, Dr. Gerald Prescott. The man who is in love with the woman I also happen to be in love with.
He’s in blue scrubs. He stands in front of us and watches her. I know that look in his eyes. He wants her. So, I pull her closer and wrap my arm around her, pressing her into my body.
“Hey, Vickie.” She sobs, flies out of my arms and into his. He pulls her into his body and rests his forehead on top of her head. It’s an intimate gesture. One that makes my stomach drop. He looks directly into my eyes and smiles in triumph.
“Jerry, are you working on my mother? Please tell me she’s going to be okay.” She cries against him, wiping her face on his scrubs. Something inside of me snaps. Her tears are my responsibility to wipe, not his or any other man’s. I take her arm and pull her away from him. I stand between them and tower over him.
I’ve never used my size to intimidate, but I’ve never had to before. He smirks, and I remain stoic, ready to pounce if necessary.
“She’s a little groggy and has a dislocated shoulder. We can’t get her blood pressure down, but given the stress she’s been under, that’s to be expected.”
Vickie exhales in relief. I put an arm around her waist and pull her back where she belongs.
“You can go and see her. Beth will take you.” Vickie extricates herself from me and follows Beth down the hall and out of my sight.
Dr. Prescott doesn’t leave, so I take a few steps back, lean against the wall, and wait to hear the nonsense he’s about to spew.
“You know, for a second, I thought you were a threat,” he says. I pull out my phone and send a text to the nanny with instructions for after school. I put my phone in the back pocket of my jeans and give him a disinterested stare, but the truth is, I’d love nothing more than to punch this guy’s teeth in. “But all I had to do was wait for you to fuck it all up. Didn’t take long.” He inches closer to me. “Your problem is you don’t understand her. I made the same mistake, so don’t feel bad. I know her now, and I’m going to pick up where you left off.”
He makes the mistake of tapping me on the shoulder. My hands whip up. I grab his shoulders, spin us around and pin him hard against the wall. He winces and tries to push me away, but I press against him, making it impossible for him to move.
“Stay away from her,” I warn.
“See? You think you own her. Mistake number one. The second mistake you made, you left her. You guys aren’t a good fit anyway. You might have a little money now, but you’ll always be a hillbilly. Did you really think you were long term material with a woman like that?” He chuckles at his own joke. I drop my hands and he stumbles, but he laughs all the way down the hall.
FIFTY-ONE
Her hands are warm,but her grip is faint. She smiles but winces.
“Stop moving, Mother. Are you in pain? Let me call the nurse. She can give you something to make you more comfortable.” She tries to sit up, but I shake my head disapprovingly at her. She winces but tries to mask her pain with a smirk.
“And I thought Tara was the mother hen,” she moans.
“Don’t try to talk. Jesus, you need to watch where you’re going. You know the drivers in this city are crazy. It could have been a lot worse. I’m so sorry no one was here.” I lay my head on the bed and sob quietly, then pull myself together because this isn’t about me, and I need to be strong for someone else.
When I feel her hand in my hair, I sob louder. Guilt washes over me in waves. Each time she’s called, I’ve hit ignore. Each voicemail message I’ve deleted, and each attempt of getting together I’ve rebuffed play in my mind like a loop. I didn’t tell her about Mexico until the day before I left. I sent her a one sentence text, and when she called me, I didn’t pick up.
“I’m so sorry,” I sob. “I’m so sorry.” I lose all attempts of trying to be strong and break down in the hospital room. “We could have lost you,” I say. “And you’ve been here all alone and all I was doing was feeling sorry for myself.”
She caresses the top of my head, just like she used to when I was little and upset. Her hands were always a source of comfort.
“I’m a little banged up, but I’ll be fine. It’s okay, French fry.” For the first time ever, I love the sound of my nickname. “Look at me.”
I wipe my nose on the blanket and do as she says. God, she looks like Tara and Alan. And me too. We all have her eyes, and I know I have her smile. There’s no denying she’s our mother.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
I do a half laugh, half sob.
