Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
I smile. It's a jagged dim thing, but she smiles back. Maybe telling her would make me feel better? Help me understand my own feelings better. I'm about to open my mouth, and spill my guts to her, when my phone vibrates on the table, scaring the shit out of us both. We share a chuckle, and I look down. It's a number I don't recognize, but in my mom's area code. I hit the green answer button and press it to my ear.
"Hello?"
"Hello, is this Maybel Jacobs?"
"Yes?"
"I'm Angela Black, calling from Saint Michael's Hospital. We have your mother here..."
Static immediately fills my head, and I jerk to standing, jostling the bowl and spilling milk across the table. "What? Is she okay?"
"Don't be alarmed, but we got a call to pick her up earlier this morning from a neighbor. They found her passed out in her home."
Oh my god. Why didn’t she call me? I knew I should’ve stayed at her house last night. Tears track down my cheeks, hot and heavy as I rush into my room, holding my phone between my face and my shoulder while I tug on a pair of boots. "I'm coming. I'll be right there."
"Very good, Ms. Jacobs. We'll see you soon."
Jackie hands me my bag that I'd left on the floor and my car keys, and I rush out of my room heading for the door. "Call me if you need anything."
I nod, and pull the door open, escaping into the hall. My feet pound against the floor as I race down the hall and outside to my car. Dammit. Drew pops into my head. I won't be able to meet with him this morning like I promised. Surely, he’ll understand. I send him a quick text, only a few words, and race out of the dorm parking toward the hospital.
It feels like it takes me hours to drive there after hitting every light and getting behind every single slow driver in the city. I beep my horn impatiently and do my best to keep my emotions in check. When I arrive at the hospital, I slam the car into a parking spot and put it in park. Grabbing my phone from the cupholder, I notice Drew’s name on the screen and a text alert. I’m too frazzled about what’s going on with my mother. I don’t have time for this right now. I shove my phone into my bag as I run into the hospital. My mother is the only family I have left. I can't lose her.
I can’t.
It seems to take an eternity before I can get to her, but soon enough, one of the nurses comes to get me and directs me to a small room down a corridor. My mom looks up wearily from the bed. "Hey, Little One, you're here."
I smile. "You must be on some good drugs. You haven't called me that since I was a kid."
She laughs, and then it turns into a cough as I sit beside the bed. "Mom...what happened?"
She reaches for me, and I immediately clutch her hand tight in mine. It's cold and dry. "I'm okay, baby. I just got dizzy and passed out. It's a side effect of some of the medications. Low heart rate. You know the drill."
I try to give her a smile, but I know it's more of a grimace. She pretends anyway and give me a brittle smile.
There's a drumbeat in my head, chanting I can't lose her over and over, and it's all I'm thinking about now. "When are they going to let you out of here?"
“I’m not sure—”
Someone knocks on the door, cutting her off, and our attention is directed to them as a doctor walks in. "Hello! I'm sorry to see you again under these circumstances.”
“Do you know when she’ll be released?” I ask the doctor since my mother said she didn’t know anyway.
“I'm afraid we don’t know yet.”
I try to rein in my panic. "What does that mean?"
He smiles back and forth between us. "Your mother and I have already spoken, but I'm afraid things have progressed more quickly than we anticipated. She's going to need extensive care, and then I think we should talk about hospice options so her last days are as pain-free as possible."
Hospice? Last days? This doctor is talking gibberish. My mother is sick, yes, but there is still hope.
"No!" The word shoots out of my mouth, making both my mother and the doctor flinch.
"Baby." My mother tries to console me, but I squeeze her hand tightly in response.
"There has to be something more we can do. We haven't even started the experimental treatments you were telling me about. There are still things we can do."
They both start speaking at the same time.
"I'm tir—”
"Your mother doesn't—”
I cut them both off and gently release my mother’s hand, placing it on the bed. Then I face the doctor. "Can we speak in private for a moment, please?"