Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
When everyone was seated, the appointed release officer folded his hands together on the wooden surface. “You will soon be removed from my supervision, Ms. Grant, when your case is finalized. I have provided the judge with my observations and my notes of your conduct while you’ve worn the ankle monitor.”
“What did you report?” Dirk asked sharply.
“That is confidential. However, since we have not discussed any violations or warnings during your release, I can assure you that it is positive.”
“Closing arguments are tomorrow,” Cynthia blurted. “Could you give me permission to go see my mom? If they send me to jail, it will be my last opportunity to see her.”
“There are visiting hours in most facilities,” Mr. Flanigan assured her.
“You don’t understand.” Cynthia stopped and swallowed hard. She looked at Dirk and at his nod, she continued, “My mother is in a care facility. She is dying of cancer. Our relationship is… strained. She won’t come see me. Ever.”
Silence stretched across the table. Finally, Mr. Flanigan answered, “Will one hour away from the house be sufficient?”
“Yes,” Cynthia assured him. It wasn’t as if she would have a chance to speak to her mother.
“I will note it in your file.” Mr. Flanigan stood and walked to the door to let himself out without another word.
“Would you like to go now?” Dirk asked quietly.
“Please. Do you mind driving me?”
“Of course not.”
Back in the car, the duo rode in silence for several minutes. Finally, Dirk spoke. “I’m sorry I didn’t think of visiting your mother.”
“What?” Cynthia asked, drawn from her thoughts. “I’m sorry to interrupt our limited time together.”
“But we are together, Little girl. I’m glad you spoke up and requested permission. Seeing her has obviously been weighing on your mind.”
“I usually try to see her once a month. Since I created all this,” Cynthia waved her arm around in an encompassing path, “I haven’t had a chance to go. It dawned on me today that I might not see her again.”
“Then I think this is a wonderful use of our time together,” Dirk assured her.
“Turn left after this intersection. It’s a brick building with large iron gates,” Cynthia directed, sitting forward.
Within minutes, they parked and walked up the sidewalk. Cynthia buzzed the intercom at the front door and spoke when they answered. “It’s Cynthia Grant and a friend. We’re here to visit Alicia Stimmons, please.”
A buzz sounded, signaling that the door had been unlocked and they could enter. A nurse’s assistant Cynthia recognized stood in the hallway to greet them.
“Cynthia, it’s been a while,” the woman in a facility T-shirt and pants greeted them.
“Sorry, Terry. I wasn’t able to come. Does Alicia need anything?”
“No. Hospice took over her care last week. She’s in bad shape. Would you like to see her?”
“Bad shape?” Cynthia echoed.
“Come to her room,” Terry invited.
Cynthia looked up at Dirk. At his nod, she quickly said, “Thank you.”
They followed the employee down the hallway to a plain door with the number six on it. Cynthia looked around curiously as they walked, noting most doors were decorated with pictures or a festive wreath. She’d never visited her mom in her room. Alicia wouldn’t allow that.
The shades were open, filling the small bedroom with light. Cynthia noted that there were no personal items scattered around. There was the simple bed, an industrial clock on the wall, and a counter with two boxes of exam gloves in different sizes. With all that noted, Cynthia focused on the still form in the bed. By watching closely, she could see irregular shallow breaths.
Collapsing silently into the chair by the bed as the nurse’s aide slipped away, Cynthia scanned her mother’s face. The expression on Alicia’s too-still face was striking. Remote and drawn, Alicia’s face revealed the extent of her disease and impending death. Cynthia reached out to pat her mother’s hand, lying on the industrial bedspread, but stopped inches away. Touching her mother hadn’t been allowed for a very long time. Alicia wouldn’t appreciate it now when she couldn’t protest.
Gathering her courage, Cynthia talked to her. “Hi, Mom. I’m sorry to see you’re unwell. I may not get to see you again but wanted you to know that I love you.”
There was no response—no change in her expression. Cynthia swallowed hard. She jumped slightly as Dirk’s hand curled over her shoulder in silent support. The hope that maybe someday her mother would decide to interact with her disappeared. She’d always known it wouldn’t happen. That didn’t make this any easier.
Hot tears cascaded down Cynthia’s face as she sat there looking at her mother, willing her to take a deeper breath, to move, to wake up. Slowly, she reached up to lay her hand over Dirk’s. This was another chapter in her life that was over.
Cynthia stood and rounded the chair to step into Dirk’s arms. Immediately, they wrapped around her and held her close. She turned to watch her mother, safe in the circle of Dirk’s embrace. Seconds ticked by.