Miss, Do I Know You?

27 - Saturday, January 23

"Do you need me to come with you?"

"I'd say yes if you hadn't almost thrown up the moment you stepped inside. Just go get something to eat, okay?" Alex said with a nervous smile, fumbling with the car keys. "I'll try to get my own shit together for once."

"You sure?"

"Just keep your phone close. In case I need rescuing."

There were conflicting emotions inside me—guilt for letting her go alone, worry for her, and so much gratitude for all she had done for me, both today and countless days before. And as I watched her recede into the distance, an urge overtook me to stay by her side. Without a second thought, I snatched the keys and called after her.

She spun around, brows furrowed. "You don't have to do this."

"I want to. But I might change my mind in about five seconds."

Stepping inside the building, such disquietude took over me, though not as overwhelming as its initial assault that had caught me unprepared. But beside me, Alex appeared just as anxious as ever, her posture tense, her eyes flitting between every corner. Our hands brushed for a brief moment. And in the next, I felt hers fall into mine. I gently tightened my hold and hoped to steady her shakes, to let her know it was okay.

Maybe those were my own fingers that were shaking, and all I achieved was to echo my shakes back into her, through a layer of skin. But either way, in that simple act, a promise was made that I would face whatever lay ahead together with her. I wanted to be there, to offer whatever reassurance I could. She may have felt many things, but she didn't need to shoulder it all alone. No pressure, no expectation. Just the promise of support in whatever happened next.

Alex sighed as we came to a stop. "That's his room."

"Here, sit down. Should I ask Gabi to come?"

"No, it's fine." She let go of my hand and sank into a nearby chair.  "I just don't feel like I can be here at all. I don't know why I..."

Her words dissolved into silence as the door to the hospital room swung open and a tall woman came out. An undeniable resemblance connected her to Alex and Gabi straight away, from her face to the color of her brown hair and her ability to maintain quite an impressive resting bitch face. But she seemed older, somehow more hardened than I remembered her. She moved quickly, passing without a second glance, eyes briefly meeting ours before disappearing around the corner. 

The air shifted as Alex exhaled a deep breath that drooped her shoulders. Sadness took over me as soon as I noticed her vulnerability, how her eyes remained on the corridor where her mother had disappeared, as if waiting for a flicker of recognition or some sign of a connection. But there was nothing. No one came. Even through the mask of courage, it was clear how much of an effort she was making to simply remain standing. And watching her resolve crumble hurt my soul.

Bitterly, Alex muttered, "I'm not sure why I even bother."

I bit my lip, uncertain of what I should say. "It took me over a month to recognize you, and only because you told me. I'm not saying she deserves it, but maybe you should cut her some slack."

"It's different. She's my mother. You could show me a hundred pictures of fingers, and I could pick out Benji's in a heartbeat."

I surrendered to the fact that she was right and acknowledged the futility of my own voice. There were no words I could offer to make the situation better. "It's going to be okay," I whispered. It was all I could say, and even that felt like lies.

Her gaze escaped mine once more. But amidst that internal chaos, at least the slightest hint of a smile touched the corners of her lips in acknowledgment, accompanied by a nod as determination drew her features taut. With a quivering release of breath, she got up and nudged the door open.