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 thrown up the moment you stepped inside. Just go get something to eat, okay?" Alex muttered with a nervous smile, her shaky fingers fumbling with the car keys. "I'll try to get my own shit together for once."

"Are you sure?"

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

Deep inside, a wave of conflicting emotions engulfed me—guilt for letting her go alone, worry for her, and a profound sense of gratitude for all she had done for me, both today and countless days before. And as I watched her silhouette recede into the distance, an undeniable urge overtook me to stay by her side, to show her that she was not alone. Without a second thought, I snatched the keys and called after her.

She whirled around, her brows furrowing with concern. "Kayla, you don't have to do this."

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

Stepping inside the building, a shroud of disquietude descended upon 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 ceaselessly and seeking answers in every corner.

Our hands brushed for a brief moment. And in the next breath, I felt hers fall into mine. Sensitive to the muted tremor within her fingers, tapping a rhythm of apprehension against my hand, I gently tightened my hold and hoped to steady her, to let her know it was okay and she was safe.

Maybe it was my fingers that were shaking, and all I achieved was to echo her unsteady ripples back into her, through a layer of skin. But either way, in that simple act, an unspoken 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."

"Let's sit down for a moment, okay? Should I ask Gabi to come?"

Releasing a deep breath, she let go of my hand and sank into a nearby chair. "No, it's fine. 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 emerged, her face a mask of stoicism. An undeniable resemblance connected her to Alex and Gabi—from the contours of her face to the hues of her long 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, her eyes briefly meeting ours before disappearing around the corner. And in the wake of her departure, a palpable shift coursed through the air, as if a weighty breath had been released after an interminable suspension.

Alex succumbed to a trembling exhalation, her shoulders drooping. Sadness bathed me as I observed how her presence exuded a poignant vulnerability, her eyes transfixed upon the corridor where her mother had disappeared, as if yearning for a flicker of recognition, some sign of connection.

But there was nothing. No one came. Even through the courage of her countenance, it was evident how much of an effort she was making to simply remain standing. It hurt my soul, watching her resolve crumble.

"I'm not sure why I even bother," she muttered bitterly.

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