The Truth of the Matter

18. Spaces Between Hearts

The sound of the shrill analog ringtone jarred me from my sleep. I grabbed it involuntarily and answered gruffly

"Yes?"

The polite English voice on the other end came through

"Am I speaking to Quinn Collins, son of Theresa Collins?"

My pulse sped up, the cordial voice was an indicator of something far more serious

"Yes you are, what happened?"

The voice responded

"She has suffered a rather large infarction, possibly a stroke. We have her under observation here at the hospital. Her paperwork states that you be notified of any hospitalization. Her condition is rather serious, try and make your arrangements to get here as soon as possible."

I took a deep breath, lungs struggling for air as if I was underwater

"Of course. I will be there immediately once I book a flight. Thank you."

I hung up, threw the blankets off of me and began haphazardly throwing clothes into a suitcase. I wasn't paying attention to what articles of clothes I was pulling off hangers. I made myself slow down and take a moment to get some clarity. I couldn't be logical about this, I couldn't just go into it with a brave face on.

My mother was my best friend, the woman who raised me on her own after my father's sudden death when I was fifteen. The woman who worked three jobs to be able to send me money for food while I was in graduate school, despite my insistence that she save it for herself. The woman who flew to see me graduate after so many obstacles, most that I had created myself.

I couldn't let her down in her time of need.
The first person that I thought of was Truth. I needed someone to talk to who understood my mind, who understood how to talk me off a ledge. Maybe it was selfish but it didn't matter right now.

She picked up on the third ring, vocal fry in full swing

"Hey, are you okay? It's like four in the morning? The damn roosters aren't even up yet."

The tears burnt and welled up in my eyes

"I'm uh...I'm not okay. My mother is in the hospital and, and, well, I'm going there as soon as I can. I just...I don't know what to do."

She answered immediately with no hesitation

"I'll be right over. I'll help you do whatever you need."

Before I could stop it the request popped out, sounding reminiscent of a scared child

"Will you come with me?"

Again, no hesitation

"Of course. Look up flights now, and make two cups of tea. I'll be over as soon as I'm packed. Do not hypothesize or over exaggerate hypotheticals in your head, that's my job. I'll see you soon."

She was professionally calm. It was second nature for Truth to help others in a crisis. She spent her life counseling teenagers who felt every emotion ten times harder than anyone else, as well as women who were escaping abuse. She was a literal neutral, exploring all sides and options. If she allowed herself to be emotionally attached to every situation, she would be a frayed rope unable to pull anyone else up in their time of need.

It was as if she went on auto pilot, emotions neatly tucked into a box in the corner of her mind only to come out when she was ready to deal with them. That's what a lifetime of disappointment and emotional trauma will do: give you one hell of a coping mechanism.

I think that's why she had such a difficult time when we first dated, she put herself on autopilot because she was afraid of what our relationship made her feel, that falling in love was some sort of emergency that needed contained and dealt with later.