“California? Why or earth would you be there?”
Stunned by what she tells me, my lips tremble, the bile in my throat rising. “Mom, I moved to California, remember, with Flynn?”
The tears fall down my face, unwillingly—I have no control. I’ve lost her. The pain, a tidal wave of emotions. My sobbing is broken apart by the short pauses; my head falling between my legs to shield my hollowness.
“I know that, silly. How is Flynn?”
“Good,” I choke, breathing in and out to disguise my grief. “Mom, is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine. I’m sorry sweetie, it’s late. How about we speak tomorrow?”
“But Mom…” I wail, softly with desperation, “I need to talk to you.”
“I know, honey, but I’m so tired. I promise, first thing when I wake up—we’ll talk, okay?”
She says goodbye so quickly, not giving me a chance to get in another word. I don’t allow another minute to pass, calling the manager at the facility. After getting the run-around, and raising my voice at Deidre—I’m finally put through to the head manager, Mrs. Scullino.
“Miss Milenov, I understand your concern but it’s quite late and I have some last-minute patients I have to attend to. I think it’s best we schedule a phone meeting.”
“This is a phone meeting. I want to know what’s happening with my mom,” I sputter, momentarily beyond words. “She’s not the same. Some of the things she says…I don’t understand why this is happening so quick.”
I could hear the sigh on the other end. “Miss Milenov, you sound tired. I really think it’s best we discuss your mother’s condition when you’re in a more rational state.”
“Don’t…” I cry into the receiver. “Don’t tell me I’m not rational! My mom is sick. I need her…do you understand that?”
“Miss Milenov, if you must know, I’m recommending we do some further testing. Her dementia may be an onset of something else. Given her age, and her regular health has been good, I do have some concerns.”
I can barely breathe; my body like jelly yet shaking from the cold that sweeps into the room. As I begin to hyperventilate, unable to form my words to make any sense, Mrs. Scullino attempts to calm me down.
“I come from a big family, being Italian of course. I understand how much it hurts to find out a loved one is not well,” she says, sedately. “If you can come up and see her in the next few days, we can talk about our next steps.”
Through the pain and heartache, I agree to fly up and spend some much-needed time with Mom. I had to invest all my energy into making her better before she got worse.
We hang up the phone yet I continue to sit here numb. I had never felt so alone. This life I had created was nothing like I expected. I may have been surrounded by people though the loneliness is palpable. Here I was, drowning, barely able to stay afloat, lost in the dark seas and moving further, and further—away from the light.
Desperate to find Flynn and beg him to fly home with me, I grab the note on the fridge with the address he posted. I decide against changing outfits, running out the door in a mad rush and driving in a manic state towards the venue.
Although the club is a few miles away, the traffic didn’t let up at this hour. Red lights, rows, and rows of vehicles, desperate to get somewhere and all just as impatient as I was. The grueling pace gave me too much time to think. I didn’t want to think.
My fingers fumble with the radio, twisting the volume to maximum and allowing the song to blast through the speakers. It’s some love song that irks me. I press another button, welcoming a rap song about fucking someone’s wife…or bitch. I couldn’t quite figure it out.
The club is busy; a line outside of girls dressed in short skirts and hooker heels, waiting while trying to flirt with the security guard.
I don’t hold back, demanding to get in because my brother is part of the band. After an hour of cross-checking, I may have just as well waited in the line.
I mov
e quickly past security, cramming like a sardine amongst the crowd. I search the stage, seeing only the equipment and no Flynn. Bumping my way through the crowds, I finally see Flynn at the back. He’s talking to someone and I yell, though pointless, through the loud noise. He hasn’t noticed me yet and as I walk towards him, my frustration mounts with the tight crowds and hot air inside.
Moving in closer, Wesley appears beside him. Still dressed in his suit from tonight, he leans into Flynn, whispering something into his ear. He extends his hand, Flynn shaking it until he pulls back. Flynn clutches his fist, dropping his gaze with a satisfied smile. My blood begins to spike, and with a brutal push against the people blocking my way, the adrenalin kickstarts—my heart hammering erratically.
“What did you give him?”
Wesley appears surprised to see me; mouth falling open and more notably—his eyes are that familiar bloodshot red.
“Nothing, it’s none of your business anyway.”
“Tell…me… what the fuck you gave him!” I’m reeling with anger, unable to disguise my raging tone.