Nightwolf

I shake my head, my lips pressed tight together. “Nope. I cut him out after he left and that meant everyone on his side of the family. His mother, my grandma, wanted to reach out after, she never did see eye-to-eye with him, but I don’t even know if she’s still alive. It’s just me and my mom.”

And at that the tears start to flow again, bouncing off the lid off my latte.

“And us,” Lenore says, holding my hand. “You have us. Maybe we’re not family by blood, but we are your family, Amethyst. And all of us love you and we love your dear mother, so much.”

That just makes the tears fall faster.

I cry and cry until I feel there’s nothing left in me. Lenore stays with me and we talk about other things, which is a nice distraction, even though I feel like I should be thinking about my mom every second, like if I stop thinking about her she’ll die. Damn, this is when I lose my mind, isn’t it?

Eventually I get curious and go back to the ICU. My mom is back from the CT scan and they say I can go in and see her. Lenore says she’ll wait for me in the waiting room, and though she looks tired too and I want her to go home, I also don’t want to be alone.

I step in through the doors and go to my mother’s side. There’s a new nurse now who gives me a polite smile as I step through the curtain.

“You’re the daughter,” the nurse comments, her tone neutral.

“I am. So, what did the CT scans say?” I ask, examining her face carefully for any signs of sadness or happiness.

“We won’t know until tomorrow,” she says, her face not giving me anything.

“Oh. Is she improving at all?” I look down at my mother, moving over to her hand and giving it a squeeze. She’s not warm but not cold either.

“Her temperature has dipped a bit and she’s not responding to anything yet. I’ll need to switch out her feeding tube, is that okay?”

I nod. As if I’m going to stop them from doing their job.

“She’s in great shape,” I tell the nurse, but as she fiddles with the feeding tube, I can’t help but look away until she’s done. “Really, she goes for walks all the time. And she’s on her feet all day and she eats well, rarely drinks, doesn’t smoke. She just had a physical and she said she was right as rain, no problems.”

“Uh huh,” the nurse says absently.

That uh-huh bugs me. It’s like she doesn’t believe me.

“It’s true,” I add, sneaking a look at her. The feeding tube is weird to see, like some white paste going down my mom’s throat, but it doesn’t make me want to gag as much as I thought. “When I was growing up, she would run marathons. Well, ten Ks. But still, she was so active. And I know she looks a bit grey right now with all this stuff in her and you can’t really see her face, but she looks so young for her age. And she is young! Fifty-three is super young.”

I know I’m totally babbling now but I’m watching the nurse’s face so closely to see if she’ll give me just something, anything, that will make me feel better.

Please, just tell me she’s not going to die!

“That’s great,” the nurse says, giving me a placid smile before moving on to something else. “Sounds like an amazing woman.”

Then the nurse leaves the room, closing the curtains just a little for privacy.

She’s not telling you what you want to hear because she doesn’t know the outcome, the voice in my head says. She doesn’t know if she’ll make it. She can’t give you false hope.

I close my eyes and try to shut out that voice. I can’t listen to it. If I listen to it, I’ll crumble. I have to go on choosing hope, even if it kills me. I have to have faith, forget the fear. Cuz, fuck, that fear is there and it’s so strong, big black claws that want to pull me under every chance it gets.

No fear, only faith, I tell myself, repeating it like a mantra. No fear, only faith.

I take out my phone and then go through the “Coma” playlist that Lenore and I put together in the waiting room. I press shuffle and Dire Straits “So Far Away From Me” comes out.

Oh god. This song?

I hold the phone up to her ear, hoping she can hear it through all the bandages.

“I’m playing you some music, Mommy,” I say, feeling like I’m five years old again. “Some of your favorites. This music reminds me of when we’d drive up to visit grandma and I always loved this song and I know you do too.”