Best of 2017

A soft groan emanates through the room and pulls me from my thoughts. The muscles in my mother’s face twitch as her eyelids flutter. When they finally open, she stares up at me blankly, as if she’s trying to understand what she’s doing here.

“Oh, thank God,” I cry out. Tears spill out through my eyes, rushing forward from my body like rain pouring down in torrents.

I lie on her and weep until there are no more emotions left in my body. Until I purge it all and am so drained I can barely hold my own head up. But I do hold it up, and search her eyes for answers. Why are we here? Why is she doing this to herself?

“What’s going on with you, Mom?” My words come out on a whisper and her pupils dilate. “Why are you doing this to yourself? You’re killing yourself.”

“I’m not worth the tears,” she mutters. “If you knew, you wouldn’t cry.” And then her lids shut. No answers, no clarification, no nothing. More confusion is all I get.

Hours must pass, but I have no recollection. I’m so lost in my own grief and concern for her that when the nurse pops in to tell me it’s time to leave for the night, I finally peer up and notice through the window that the city is blanketed in darkness. The day has passed and my mom will be okay. Or at least today she will be okay. Who knows what the future will bring.

With a soft kiss on the cheek, I leave her and head home. I don’t stop to talk to Sydney. I’m too tired and drained to deal with any questions she might have for me tonight. So instead, I head straight for the shower and wash off the grime that coats my skin.

I’m spent, burned out, completely depleted.

The pellets of warm water rejuvenate me, and although they cleanse me, they don’t wash away the sadness that still lingers beneath my skin.

Once out of the shower, Sydney’s open door beckons me to enter and unload all that happened today, but as I peer inside I see her lying down and she appears to be sleeping. I don’t disturb her. Instead, I head into my own room and lie on my bed. Letting out all the oxygen in my lungs, I grab my book and try to distract myself from all the day brought.

MY BODY LURCHES FORWARD.

My sweat stained clothes cling to my frail limbs.

That smell again.

It’s everywhere. The smell lingers in the room as if I’m stuck in a nightmare.

Copper. Always copper.

The door slams against the wall, the sound ricocheting through the room. “Are you okay?” Sydney’s eyes glow in the dark of my room as she rushes to my bed.

“I . . . I don’t know.” I wipe my damp cheek with the back of my hand and lean back into my pillow.

The same dream.

Always the same damn dream.

“You were screaming so loudly—it was blood curdling. I was so scared. Was it a nightmare again?”

“Yeah, but I . . . I can never remember the whole thing. Once I open my eyes it goes away. Just pieces and smells . . .” My whole body shakes with the fear of not knowing what is happening to me.

“Shh, you’re okay,” she coos while rubbing my back. “That must have been an awful dream.” Her hand continues to run circles over my back as my breathing regulates.

“I wish they would stop.” My shoulders sag in defeat.

“Do you think this is because of Richard’s death?”

I turn my face so our eyes meet. “Honestly? I don’t know.”

“Do you want to tell me about it? Anything at all that you can recall?”

“I don’t know what there is to say. I can’t remember. It is always so vivid, but the moment I open my eyes I only remember the smell . . . and, I guess, the screaming.”

“I’ve got to be honest, every day you get a little worse. Your screaming becomes worse and worse, and all last week at work . . . I could see you were having anxiety. Enough of this shit. You need to see someone. I think you need to call that shrink.”

“I can’t go to him.” I cross my arms over my chest, lower my head and close my eyes.

“Why the hell not?”

I don’t answer.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Tentatively, I lift my head and meet her stare. “Well, I bumped into him yesterday at the hospital with Mom,” I manage.

“Wait, the hospital? What is your mom doing in the hospital?” She blinks. “Why am I only hearing about this now?”

“I wasn’t up for talking about it last night, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t last night.”

She studies me curiously, then her gaze lowers and I wonder if she’s hurt.

“Okay . . .” She lets out air from her lungs, clearly upset that I withheld information from her.

“It’s—”

“Well, you need to go to someone else, then.” She glances back up, and this time two deep lines of worry appear between her eyes.

“I don’t know anyone else.” I shudder inwardly at the thought of having to talk to anyone, especially him.

“Listen, I’ll ask around, but if I can’t find anyone else, just call him.”

I consider what she says and reluctantly nod. “Thanks, Syd.” My chin quivers. “It means a lot to me.”

“Of course. You’re my best friend. Like I said, if I can’t find you a different doctor, you have to call him.”

“Okay, got it. Thanks.”

Sydney’s eyes dart to the clock, then back to me. “It’s almost six. Want to get up and go out for breakfast?”

“You should go back to bed. No reason for us both to be up this early.”

She smiles at me brightly. “I’m already wide awake. Might as well grab waffles. You know you want some.”

I do want some. I let out an audible sigh and she laughs. “You twisted my arm.” I wink.

Hopping out of bed, I head for the bathroom to shower and make myself presentable.

When we finally get to the diner, Sydney opens the door and a chime goes off as we enter. It’s busy.

“Shit,” she says. “Guess we have to wait.” Usually neither of us comes this early in the morning, so we didn’t anticipate the wait. There’s a line right by the hostess booth and as I scan the room I don’t spot any open tables. A familiar scent wafts through the air. Confectioners sugar, coffee and the spicy flavor/scent of nutmeg.

Without warning, my pulse picks up as I’m transported back in time to only a few weeks ago. To the last time I was here.

Richard. I was here with him. His presence is all around me. His laugh filters through the space.

“Hey kiddo.” He leaned in and gave me a warm hug and a soft kiss on my forehead.

“Richard,” I exclaimed through a laugh. “I’m twenty-four. You can’t call me kiddo anymore.”

“Sure I can. You will always be ‘kiddo’ to me.” He laughed this time and my mouth split into a huge smile as I rolled my eyes.

“Fine.”

“Plus, I’m not allowed to show nepotism at the office. This is the only time I get to call you that.” All I could do was shake my head at him. He was right. He couldn’t play favorites, and I imagined calling me nicknames in the office would be frowned upon by the rest of the staff.

“I see you almost every day outside the office, too.”

“That you do, but normally when we see each other it’s in an office or with your mother. You and I have haven’t had time to really talk since you got your promotion a month ago. So, how do you feel about being the point person now?”

“It’s a transition. I still get nervous on the initial pitch, and it’s a bit hard taking lead on the clients, but I like it.”

“Good. You really are a natural, you know.” His praise made me smile.

“I don’t feel like a natural. It feels like I can barely remember what I’m supposed to say.”

“You are, trust me. I have seen many account coordinators transition into account executive. Not everyone can handle the new responsibilities, but you have a knack for it. You’ll do perfect on your new pitch.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I have faith in you.”

I let his words wash over me, they made me believe in myself. They gave me hope that I would succeed.

“Thank you.”

“Enough about work. It’s Saturday. What do you have planned for the day?”

“Sydney and I are going to the new restaurant that opened up in the meat packing district.”

A small line formed in his forehead. It was almost unnoticeable but I saw it. I wondered what his problem with her was. She was a good friend to me and a fantastic worker. However, Richard always seems put off by her. One day I’d ask him what that was all about. But today was a good day. Mom was in a good place when I called, and I wouldn’t ruin my day by asking questions I might not like the answers to.

THAT WAS a little over four weeks ago. Two weeks later, Richard suffered cardiac arrest. I never did get to ask him. But I guess it no longer matters.

These swirling thoughts have my hands becoming clammy and my vision blurring as my pulse picks up. I will myself to breathe. To not let the fear win. From out of nowhere, my hand becomes encased by Sydney’s warm grasp. She squeezes once, letting me know she has me. Lifting my head, our eyes meet. Hers are full of love and compassion. She mouths the word “breathe” and I do. I breathe and step forward as the sadness fades away and I’m back in the present.

CHAPTER EIGHT

EVE