In The Office

Chapter Three

My heart is aching. I can't breath. My eyes are teary and my hands shake as I dial nine one one. This has happened before. On numerous occasions. It's actually why I decided to rent this apartment so close to the hospital. And yet I still freak out when it happens. And can you blame me? My mother is all I have and all I care about.

I had walked into the flat after spending the afternoon with Emma celebrating getting hired when I went to check on mom. Only to find her passed out on the kitchen floor. God knows how long it's been since she fell. I decide not to move her in case I make it worse and instead clutch her hand tightly as I wait for the ambulance.

"You're going to be fine, mom. Everything is going to be alright." I whisper softly although she can't hear me. "I'm right here."

There's a loud knock on the door a few minutes later and I quickly stand on shaky legs and stumble my way to it, opening it immediately. The medics waste no time getting her on the stretcher and I follow behind, praying and hoping that she will walk through that door again and answering all the questions they ask me. I have memorized her medical history. I know every medicine she has ever had, every treatment she tried and every symptom she has ever shown. And yet, I find myself helpless as I climb into the ambulance behind them clutching her hand once more and hoping for the best.

***

Hours later, I'm twisting my dark blue ring around my finger over and over as I stare at the linoleum floor of the hospital. The doctor has yet to come out of mom's room and I have yet to breathe properly. I'm lost in thought when the clicking of high heels speeds up then stops before me.

"Hey," I looked up to see Emma. "How is it going?" she asks softly.

I shrug weakly. I don't have the energy to stand up, or even fake a smile right now. So I don't try. "Not so great." I mumble. "They won't let me see her. The doctor didn't come out yet and the nurses are rushing in and out without saying a word."

She pulls me into an awkward hug, the armrest of the metal chair digging into my side and says, "She's a strong woman. She'll get through this. And so are you."

I don't answer. Over the years, we've had many variations of this conversation on the phone. And since I moved here a month ago we've had two more. I don't know how many more ways I can find to thank her for coming, accept her encouragement, and ask her to leave me to my poisonous thoughts.

"Did you call Cindy?" she says.

"Not yet, I don't want to worry her. I'll call her once i know all the information." she nods. It's sad how little I talk to my younger sister. At this point she should have marked me on her phone as Bad News Person. Whenever I call it's because I have something to tell her. And it's usually not good. It's not intentional either. I just never seem to find a good time to call her. We weren't always like this, though. Back in high school before I flew to the UK we used to be very close. We would share everything with each other. But ever since I left, we kind of lost touch and we were never the same ever since. And I admit to that too. It was my fault. I always found a reason not to call, to cut the conversations short. At the time, it felt like the only right choice. It felt like the only way I could heal properly. These days, it's proven to be more and more wrong.

"Miss Parker?" the doctor walks out and shuts the door behind her. Dr Illston. She's a middle aged woman with pale skin and tired eyes. She's the one who has been taking care of my mother ever since we moved here, in fact, she's the reason we moved here. Many recommended her to me and I had to try and talk to her. and frankly, i was relieved to find that she was on duty when we arrived.

I shoot up from my chair. "Yes? How is she?"

"Stable. For now." I breathe out a sigh but she continues. "These episodes are becoming more and more frequent. We might need to change her treatment."

I nod. "I know. I was thinking of that too. Do you think we can get her something else soon?"

"Maybe, but i'm not sure how effective it will be at this stage." my heart sinks and I swallow trying to keep my eyes from leaking. "Have you considered my suggestion?" she asks softly. "I know it's expensive but it's your best shot."

The ball in my throat prevents me from answering so I nod instead. "I'm working on it." I finally manage. "As soon as I have the necessary amount I'll contact you."

She nods. A look of clear pity in her eyes so I looked away. "Can I see her now?" I ask.

"Of course, but she's asleep now." She opens the door and steps in lowering her voice. Emma and I follow. "We've attached her to an IV. she hasn't been drinking much water apparently." She gives me a pointed look and I curse. I'm a horrible daughter. I've been so busy searching and preparing for job interviews, thinking about the wrong run that I neglected her. I caused this.

As if she read my mind, Emma steps by my side and squeezes my hand, pulling me out of my thoughts. "How long is she staying?" she asks Dr Illston.

"We're keeping her overnight to see how well she's faring. But I doubt we'll be letting her go by morning. I'll run some more tests and see what else she might need."

I nod and the doctor leaves, closing the door behind her. I walk over and sit on the seat closest to my mom. She looks so pale. Her chest barely rises when she breathes and her hand is so cold. I take in a shaky breath and move my thumb soothingly over the top of her hand.

"She'll be alright." Emma says again. As she places her hand on my shoulder and pulls me to her side.

I don't say anything and keep staring at her sleeping face.

"Are you going home?" she asks after a while. "I can drop you off." she offers.

I shake my head. "No. I'll stay the night."

"Then get some rest." she says. "There's nothing else you can do."

I nod again solemnly. Indeed, there's nothing else I can do. And I hate myself for it.

After the door shuts, I turn the lights off to not disturb mom's slumber then move to open the window partly. As I face the night's sky my reflection faces me on the glass. Not many of my features are visible, but my swollen eyes and the irregular lines of ruffled hair and disheveled clothes are still clear. I try to pat down my hair but it springs back up and I huff in annoyance.

"That's because you never tried almond oil like I told you." A weak voice speaks and I spin around, almost in tears when I see mom's tired smile.

"You're awake." i say as i sit on my knees near the head of the bead.

"And you look tired." she brushes my cheek lightly. "Look at those bags. You should get more sleep."

I snort. "I'm not the one who ended up in the hospital. How are you feeling?"

"Thirsty."

I stumble onto my feet and pour her a glass of water before I help her sit up. "Dr Illston said that too. You're not drinking enough water at all lately."

"How did the interview go?" she asks instead.

I give her a pointer look but smile as I reply. "Very well. Your prayers were answered. I start tomorrow."

"That's wonderful sweetie." she beamed. The good news seemed to give her a burst of energy because her eyes opened slightly wider and her smile stretched. "I'm so proud of you."

"Enough talk about me, mom. Go back to sleep. You need to rest."

"I will, just let me tell my daughter how happy I am that she's getting the job she wanted."

"And your daughter is happy that you are happy that she got the job. Now rest mom. You have a lot of tests to get through tomorrow."

"Fine. you're strict." she mumbles playfully but she relaxes once her head is back on the pillow and her eyes are closed.

I kiss her forehead the way she used to do to me and Cindy when we were kids and run my fingers through her graying, falling, hair until I hear her breathing steady.