Page 59 of Not Your Romeo
He held my hand and watched the morning news on a national channel rather than the local, nodding off and on as the reporter spoke about things I doubted he gave a damn about.
“Breakfast,” Cammie called.
She was my favorite nurse. The one whose voice I had recognized in my seizure.
“Pancakes and oatmeal?” I guessed.
She laughed and took the lid off, revealing exactly that, along with a helping of scrambled eggs.
“How did you know?”
“Guess I should play the lottery more often.” I smirked and picked up my fork. “Do you know when the doctor will do his rounds?”
I was in such a hurry to get back to my own home.
“Anytime between now and noon.” She made an apologetic face.
“I’m going to step outside for just a moment,” Zig whispered, before kissing my cheek.
I watched him disappear and tried to swallow my irritation. I wanted fresh air, too, damn it.
I shoved scrambled eggs into my mouth and a subtle sound from the bedside table left me confused as I chewed and slowly swallowed. I opened the drawer to discover my purse, deodorant, and hairbrush inside.
“Are you kidding me? I’ve been using this medical brand rollerblade bullshit that leaves my underarms sticky and that was in there all this time?” I let my husband have it, even if he wasn’t in the room. I snatched my brush and purse from the drawer, setting them both in my lap so I could fish around and find my phone. Of course, it was in the bottom of my bag.
I swiped it, convinced it was the last ring before it went to voicemail. I half suspected I’d not caught it in time for all the trouble I went through to find the silly thing.
“Ro,” The voice sounded so small and broken. “Ro, I’m sorry I was a bitch to you. Can you come over? Please, I need you.”
“Wh–?” I pulled the phone back, having been in such a scramble to catch the call, I hadn’t really paid attention to whose name was flashing.
“It’s me, Rumi. My mom died last night.” She sobbed.
My jaw dropped and my gaze cut murderously back toward the door. Last night! He knew all this time and he didn’t say shit to me?
“Wh-where are you at, honey?” I cleared my throat and had to make an effort to keep my hand away from my mouth.
I couldn’t help it, I knew her mother was bad off, but it seemed so sudden.
“I– I– I’m in the bathroom.” She sounded like she was hyperventilating on the other end of the line.
“Rumi, what bathroom?” I tried to stay calm, despite the way my heart was breaking for her. I’d managed to swing my legs over the side of the bed, even if I had no idea where I was going, or even if I could walk on my own for that matter. I’d done okay with the nurse, but she’d held my arm for the round trip between my bed and the bathroom. A distance that felt like an accomplishment at the time, but now that I was surveying the journey, it was probably more like ten steps each way.
I’d crawl if I had to! They would not stop me from getting to that baby.
The door swung open, and Ziggy sounded off, “Whoa!”
“The– Clubhouse,” Rumi managed, after several moments.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Everything is going to be alright. You’re going to be alright,” I reassured her, before hanging up.
I held the phone and resisted the urge to hurl it at Ziggy.
“Wh–? That was Rumi?” he dumbly guessed.
“Yeah. That was Rumi,” I mocked him.
He took a deep breath, “Listen, babe–”
