Dipping Into Together

Ch 32

***Sorry it's been so long since I've last updated, there's just been a lot going on. I'll try to update more frequently now***

After our talk I retreat into my room and try to convince myself that Aunt Mel didn't actually mean everything she said. Just the thought of being forced to eat as she watched me like a hawk makes me feel anxious. I bury my head underneath the covers, hope that maybe she'll forget what she said in the first place. I can feel my heart beating steadily. Da-dum, da-dum, da-dum. What was Jonah thinking when he left me? Da-dum. Will my mother ever wake up? Da-dum. Will I ever be okay again? Da-dum. Da-dum. It's okay, I think to myself. It will all be okay.

The door to my rooms open, but I don't lift my head out from underneath the covers.

"Destiny." It's Mel.

I don't respond.

"Destiny, the hospital called. They need to talk to us."

I don't respond.

"We need to leave now. Get up, Sweetheart. We're leaving."

My body starts to shake. Please don't let her be dead, I think.

"Destiny, it might be bad news."

...

The ride to the hospital is silent. I don't speak, barely even breathe. The sun is shinning too brightly. It's too cold outside. Everything is big and uncomfortable.

When we pull up in the parking lot Mel turns off the car and looks straight ahead. "I want you to know that these doctors have tried everything they can."

"She's dead." It comes out a statement, and not a question like I intended.

Mel sighs. "No, sweetheart. Not yet."

Not yet.

We get out and walk up to the entrance. I haven't been to see my mother since I got out of the hospital. How long ago was that? I can't remember. My hands are shaking. We swoosh in, bringing the cold air inside with us. Heads do not turn. We are simply other people coming to declare that it is time to pull the plug on their loved ones. These hallways are not new with death and tears.

Doctors meet us outside of my mother's room, their faces somber.

"Ms. Mel," the doctor says,

"Destiny," he opens his mouth again but it all goes right over my head. I only hear snips of what he's saying. But none of that matters because I know in the end that my mother is not coming back. She's in a coma that she will never wake up from. We should let her rest. Let her die.

So I say it.

"Let her die." The words come out strong, sure. "She wouldn't want to live like this."

The doctor looks up at me, nodding.

"Let her go," I say. But this time it's not to them, it's to myself. I step towards my mother's door, twist the knob, open it, walk inside. She is white as a sheet, barely even there. She looks dead already. I move towards her and touch her cheek, then bend and kiss her forehead.

"This is not how I'll remember you," I whisper into her ear. "I love you, Mom. I'm so sorry."

Then I am moving out of the room, past the doctor and Aunt Mel and all of the nurses. Past my pain and my fear. My steps are light. My eyes are shinning with tears. I have just killed my mother. I have just killed my mother.

....

I walk part of the way home from the hospital, and when Aunt Mel pulls up next to my spot on the curb, I get in the car. No theatrics. No drama. I'm done with the screaming and the sulking. Instead, I try to focus on the facts. Solid things that I know. My father is dead. Uncle is dead. My mother is dead. Jonah is gone. Aunt Mel is here. I study her from the corner of my eye, her wrinkles and her little white bun. She doesn't seem so bad; I shouldn't have given her such a hard time. Aunt Mel is here for me; she's all I have now, so I shouldn't take her for granted like I have everything else in my life. I stare straight ahead and try to smile. I'll be okay. I'll be okay. I repeat it to myself until I start to believe it.