“No. I think I'll go by myself. You're okay with it, right?”
“I'm always okay with whatever you need to do.”
Seemly satisfied, she closes her eyes. I can only tell because her lashes barely brush my skin when she blinks and they've yet to move again. A vast part of myself wants to go with Emily tomorrow. I want to make sure that she's going to be okay and that she says whatever she needs to say to her mother. I want to be there incase her mom's a bitch and she needs someone to hold her. But if she needs to go alone, I'm going to let her. Whether I like it or not.
29
Emily
The fifteen minute trip to the hospital seems like an hour long drive. I'm a bundle of nerves and all I want to do right now is throw up. I can feel the puke at the top of my throat, just waiting for me to think one thought or make one move so it can rise up and out. Pulling into a spot the farthest away from the door, I throw my car in park and turn off the ignition.
This is it.
This is the time.
I'm so unbelievably tempted to leave and pretend I talked to her. Unfortunately, I can't do that. I gulp down air a few times and get out of my car. In no rush, I head across the parking lot and into the three story county hospital. The nurse who called yesterday was so nice as to tell me my mother's location within the hospital.
Twists and turns and I feel like I'm on a walk of shame. It's not good that she still has this effect on me. My mind is in overdrive as I start to rethink my plan. Maybe I shouldn't see her. The numbers are decreasing on the walls as I become closer to her room and I think about what Jake told me before I left.
He was hugging me goodbye and whispered into my ear, “You are so strong. Don't forget that, Sweetness.”
With his recalling words surging through me, my first thought is, “Fuck that plan.” It suddenly becomes clear to me what I need to say to my mother. The powerful surge of courage builds as I step into room 385.
Not one ounce of pity comes from seeing my mother look so ill and feeble, laying in a bed with tubes and cords everywhere. Her eyes part from the view the window provides and skit over to me. My demon awaits and as I step closer, I can see relief evident in her eyes. I'm about to wipe that away.
“You came,” she hoarsely says.
“Yeah, I figured it was time.”
“I'm so happy to see you.”
“Wish I could say the same,” I tell her flatly.
Confusion sparks and I keep going before I lose it. Being in the same room as her is harder than I expected.
“When the nurse called, I had the perfect speech in my head for when I decided to come see you. It was a speech that has been building for years and years. A speech that encompassed how I felt. But I've decided that isn't what I need to say. I didn't come here for you because you're dying and supposedly feel bad about what you did. I came for me.
“You damaged me in so many ways. I've tried moving on and pretend that I was over it. I'm not though and I probably never will be. But that's okay, because you know why? I forgive you, Mom. I forgive you for everything you have ever done or said. I forgive you for the things you allowed. I forgive you.”
My mom actually looks horrified. Tears are slowly gliding down her face and she looks deeply sadden. I don't have time to worry about that, though. I've got to get out of here. Before I walk out, I turn back and utter what will be my final words to my mother.
“Goodbye, Mom.”
I close the door behind me and head out, making sure that I stop by the nurses desk to tell them not to contact me again under no circumstances. The only thought running through my head as I walk to my car is that it's over. It's finally over.
I feel like the burden has lifted from my shoulders. My throat burns and my eyes water. Slinking into my car has never felt so relieving. The tears pour instantly and I sit in the parking lot for a good while cry, cleansing myself once and for all. There was never anyone holding me back. I realize now that it has been up to me to move past this all along. I had to choose to want it and make the according actions. I've finally done so and it's over. It's time to move on with my life once and for all.
With one last deep breath, I wipe away the fallen tears and head home. The plan was to return to Jake's, but I want nothing more than to go to my home. Usually it would be eerie to drive with no sound emitting from the speakers, but today, it's just what I want. Once I'm home, I text Jake and tell him that I'll either be over later or see him tomorrow.
He asks if everything is okay, and I reply that it is. I feel like it's been forever since I've been home and I guess in a way, it has been. Looking around the house, I see that it's relatively clean. It makes me feel better because it appears as if Dad will get along just fine once I move out for good. When I enter my room, I'm bombarded by pictures. A sad ping rings through my heart because we rarely take pictures anymore.
My room is neat and tidy, but I feel like I need to clean it. Before I can change my mind, I quickly go to the kitchen and grab a couple of trash bags. Starting with my closet, I begin to clean it out. I toss clothes I no longer want in one bag and the rest goes into another. Once I finish with my closet, I move to my dresser and then my nightstand, throwing away anything that I don't need or no longer want. Buried in the very bottom of one of my drawers, I find a birthday card from my mother when I turned thirteen. The front just has a big 13 on it. My hands tremble as I open the card and read what my mother wrote.
A teenager. You're truly growing up and I can no longer deny it. You've already turned out to be a pretty girl and I'm excited to watch you grow into a beautiful woman. Boys are going to start chasing you and I know I won't have to worry too much. You've got a good head on your shoulders and there's no doubt in my mind that you'll accomplish every dream you have.
With love,
Mom