by Lily Zante
“And you expected him to confess, just like that? Are you insane, Mari?”
I feel suddenly claustrophobic. There is too much emotion in this room. Too much going on. Too much to think about. Too many things I don’t want to face. “I should go, Jamie. Let me.”
“I’ve just canceled with Raleigh.”
“I heard, and I’m sorry, but I didn’t ask you to cancel on account of me.”
“You showed up on my doorstep looking like that. What was I supposed to do?”
I take in a slow and steadying breath. I’ve messed things up for both of us, our beautiful friendship most of all. “I’m sorry for messing up your plans.”
“Stop apologizing and sit down.” He moves towards me, which prompts me to do as he says.
“Don’t worry about Raleigh, I was only going out because she called me.”
“You can still go out, if you have plans. I’ll stay here. Unless you were going to bring her back home afterwards.”
“After what?”
“Your date.”
“And what would you think if I brought her back here?”
“Huh?” I frown, not sure what he’s asking.
“What would you do if I did bring Raleigh back?”
“Naturally, you need privacy so I would check into a hotel for the—”
“But what would you think?”
I don’t understand what he’s asking me. “I’d be happy for you. She’s liked you for the longest time and now that you’re single ….”
“You don’t even care, do you?” he snarls, his tone catching me off guard.
“If you’re that pissed off at me for ruining your night, why don’t you let me go? I can check into a hotel.” What is his problem exactly?
“I’ve canceled, and it’s not a problem,” he says tightly. “Sit down. I’ll order us take-out.”
I’m about to tell him that I have no belongings, or money, or purse, but I’m suddenly exhausted by the events of the day and I don’t even put up a fight.
Chapter Forty-Seven
WARD
* * *
I didn’t sleep. I tossed and turned like I was having spasms. Came downstairs in the early hours to write, and then I remembered there was nothing to write.
It’s burnt. I can print it out again, but I can’t get over the deception. Her fucking deception. She broke my trust.
I’ll print off another copy and send it to Rob, because he’s expecting it, but the book is tainted for me. I’ve already lost interest in it. Mari went against my wishes and did what I specifically told her not to. There’s no way I feel the same way about it now.
She won’t understand. Many won’t. It takes blood, mental anguish and sweat to write something that people might want to read, to produce words that some might remember, if only for a few moments, once they have finished reading it.
She didn’t just taint it, she tainted us. I misread her. Had her down for a warm and wonderful woman, sexy as hell, and caring, too. Someone who helped me to heal. What I didn’t expect was for her to be conniving, devious and deceptive.
People change, people lie, they deceive. I expected her to be different but she disappointed me. I can’t trust her.
And yet. And yet another part of my head, or maybe it’s my heart, tells me that Mari isn’t like my stepdad. She didn’t read my words out loud and laugh her head off, nor did she say they were trash. She didn’t demean me. She said my writing sucked her in. Said it hooked her so completely that she couldn’t put it down.
That’s a good thing.
But the betrayal is deep, and the deed is done. I need to move on. Rob is waiting for this, but I can’t send this to him. For me, this manuscript has been ruined.
True to form, I slip back into my earlier state. I eat all the junk I can find and I slouch on the sofa, watching mind-numbingly crass TV. This is what I have to do to take my mind off the whole sorry saga.
The doorbells rings, and rings, and rings. It takes me a while to rouse myself to get up off the couch. The noise is so loud, and I’d only just made myself comfortable. The disruption pisses me off and I’m even more annoyed by the time I open the door.
I blink at Jamie. I’m in no mood for a workout. I search his face for signs of unease, something to confirm my suspicions that Mari went running to him. I was so convinced that she had, and that she had told him everything, that I hadn’t expected him to show up here ever again.
“Hey,” he says in that annoyingly upbeat voice of his. He stares at me a little more intently than usual.
“She went to you, did she?” There’s no way she’s gone to him and not told him what happened.
“And what if she did?”
I leave the door open and go back inside, returning to the couch. Jamie follows me. “What’s going on?”
It’s only when I see his gaze flicker over the floor that I see the floor properly for the first time myself. Cans and wrappers from chocolate bars and potato chip bags litter the floor along with a box of half-eaten donuts.
“What did she tell you?” I ask as I start cleaning the trash from the floor because now I’m embarrassed by it. I wish I hadn’t let him in. I should have turned him away from the door, but he holds the key to Mari, and it’s her I want to know about.
He folds his arms. “Let’s cut the crap,” he says. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
“I’m sure she’s filled you in.”
“She didn’t mean to read your book,” he snaps. “She got curious.”
That snags my attention. “Curious?”
He explains, saying something about how the two of them had had a disagreement and how Mari had wanted to make it up to him. He says he’d asked her once for a sneak peek at my book because he loved my writing, but she had refused.
This pisses me off tenfold—the fact that she made such a colossal mistake all for this loser. That’s why she was taking pictures. For him. It still doesn’t make sense. She knew how protective and paranoid I am about my manuscripts. She knew this, and yet she still went ahead and did what she did.
“She was going to take pictures for me, but she—”
“I don’t need you to make excuses for her.” I throw him a hateful look. If he’s trying to make her look good, I’m not interested. I continue picking up stuff from the floor. I’m shocked by it, now that I’m the one who has to clean up. I really binged out like a madman. I’m in danger of falling back into a rut again, and this time I won’t have anyone to pull me back out.
“What happened to you?” Jamie asks, probably because the room looks like a crime scene. “You look like shit.”
“I had a rough night.”
“Mari didn’t look too great when she showed up. She had a cut on her forehead.”
“I didn’t hit her, if that’s what she told you.”
“She didn’t say you did,” he counters.
I stop what I’m doing and look at him. I hate this guy. I’ve always had a sneaky suspicion about him. “Does she always go running to you?”
“She has nowhere else to go. You smashed her phone.”
“I was angry.”
“You’re always angry.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask. When he doesn’t answer, I ask him why he’s here. “You’re obviously not here for the workout.”
“No.”
“That suits me because I’m not in the mood for exercise either.”
“I don’t care what you’re in the mood for. I came to get some of Mari’s belongings.”
I turn around and survey his expression. The guy is pissed about something. This guy, I realize suddenly, has feelings for Mari, and she has no idea. It surprises me that he’s been able to keep up the daily workouts knowing that she and I had a thing going on. “Then you’d better hurry up and get her things.”
“She left everything behind, didn’t even grab her purse.”
“She couldn’t get out fast enough,” I tell him. Now that I�
�ve had time to think about it, it was fear that I saw in in her eyes. She was scared of me.
Jamie gives me a hard stare. “If I find out you hurt her,” he jabs a finger at me.
“What are you going to do?” I stand up straighter, pulling myself up to my fullest height. Crazy, pining douchebag. I can see right through him. Must have killed him to know that she was in my bed most nights. I don’t hurt people. I would never raise my hand to a woman, but he’s not going to believe me, and I’m not even going to try to convince him. Still, I begin to wonder what he must think of me. What she must have told him.
He presses his lips together as if stopping himself from saying something. Besides, he’s in my house, and I have the upper hand.
“I need to grab a few of her things. Can I?”
“Upstairs. Hers is the first room on the left.”
“I won’t be long.”
“Might as well take all of it,” I growl. I can’t imagine she’d ever want to set foot in this place again. I’m not sure it would be good for either of us.
“She’s sorting stuff out and needs her purse, and credit cards. She’s getting her phone fixed, the one you broke.”
“It was an accident.”
“I’m sure you have a lot of those,” he says, moving towards the stairs.
Goddamn cocky little shit. What does he mean by that? I wonder what lies he’s been feeding her. “Get her things, then get the hell out.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
MARI
* * *
My cell phone starts beeping. Text messages from an unknown number flood in and just as those stop numerous voicemail messages pour in. I haven’t been able to pick up because my phone had stopped working. I stare in horror because so many messages means something is wrong.
“Are they all coming through now?” the tech assistant asks me.
“They seem to be.” I laugh nervously as I check through the texts.
Call me
Call who? These can’t all have come from yesterday.
Jamie dropped me off at the mall while he went to Ward’s place to get some of my belongings. I should have gone with him but I needed to get my phone fixed. Truth was, I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing Ward again so soon.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, ma’am?”
I don’t recognize the text message numbers and I have at least a dozen voicemail messages from the nursing home number.
My insides freeze.
“Ma’am? Was there anything else?”
“Uh …” I look up, my mind fractured. “N-No, thank you.” I hand him Jamie’s debit card to pay. I have no money, no cards, nothing because I sprinted out of Ward’s house. Jamie gave me his card, and his PIN number and told me to get everything figured out. He trusts me implicitly and I don’t know what I would do without him. I promised to pay him back as soon as I got my purse back.
I rush out of the store and stand over by a wall as I call the nursing home. I have a feeling I’m going to need something to lean on. My stomach doesn’t feel right. There’s no point in wasting time checking each message. Something is clearly wrong. I call the nursing home instead.
The moment I get through and ask for my mom, my worst fears are confirmed.
“A stroke?” The word smashes into my solar plexus. I hit the wall and slide down, ending up sitting on the floor. I am broken. “When? Why didn’t you call me?” The voice at the other end isn’t one I recognize. The person is saying something so fast I don’t understand exactly what happened. She’s bumbling and I’m trying hard to listen, to process.
If it had been Brenda on the line, she might have delivered this news as softly as she could have. This caregiver gives me the cold hard facts.
She tells me that my mom had a massive stroke last night and she’s been in the hospital all night. They tried to get a hold of me but couldn’t and they repeatedly tried all the numbers they had for me. With me having moved, and my phone being broken, there was no way they could have reached me. I had meant to call them when I got to Jamie’s, and then I forgot. I never even thought to give them Ward’s or Jamie’s number at any point because I never expected to be without a phone.
And now my mom is very sick. The news shatters my already fragile world.
“You need to come quickly.” The nurse gives me the hospital address, and I try to remember it. It’s not difficult, but I’m so numb and so lost, it’s easy to forget who I am. I rush outside the mall and run over to where the taxis are.
It’s only when the cab driver asks me if I’m okay that I realize I’m crying. “My mom’s had a stroke,” I say, wiping my tears. “Can you drive fast?”
I close my eyes and think of my mom. Guilt sinks into every pore. I should have gone to her immediately. I would have, had I known. I would have, had it not been for Ward.
How is this even happening on top of everything else?
As soon as we get to the hospital, I jump out and charge through the hospital doors. I head straight to the ward where my mom is. I pray that she’ll be okay. I’ve never prayed harder.
She’s here, I tell myself. She’s here, and I’m here, and she’s going to be okay. I pray that she’ll be happy to see me, and she’ll be sitting up and smiling at me as I walk in.
And then I remember. It hits me like a water cannon. My mom has had a massive stroke. I don’t know what this means. Nobody has actually told me how she is and I have no way to gauge the enormity of this news until I see her.
I’m hysterical by the time I reach the nurses’ station. I’m rambling, unable to formulate a complete sentence, unable to think coherently until a nurse tries to calm me down. I don’t mean to make a commotion but a doctor soon comes over, and when they realize who I am here to see, they take me aside.
The doctor says something about it not looking good, and that my mom’s condition is progressively worsening.
This isn’t real. He’s talking about someone else. “Let me see her,” I cry, begging them. I’m crying at the same time and not talking clearly. My cell phone rings, and I turn it off completely because the only person I needed to hear from, the only person who mattered, is here.
My mom is the only rock I have and I feel suddenly bereft.
A nurse leads me to the ICU. My mom is asleep. Her eyes are shut. She looks peaceful. I would give anything to have her wide awake, even if she didn’t know who I was, even if she thought I was a complete stranger. I crave her smile and for her eyes to see me. I crave for my living, walking, talking mom to come back and say something.
“Mom,” I whisper. The strangled word comes out sounding odd. I take her hand. Thankfully, it’s still warm. “Mom,” I say again, leaning over to place a kiss on her cheek. “Mom, wake up.”
“She can’t hear you,” the nurse tells me.
I don’t even bother looking at her. How does she know my mom can’t hear me? Who knows what my mom can hear or feel right now? I squeeze her hand gently again, rubbing it ever so softly between my hands. “Mom, it’s me, Marianne. Your Mari. Remember, Mama? I’m here now.” She still doesn’t move. Her eyelids are motionless. She doesn’t give me a sign. I begin to pray again out of sheer desperation, willing and wishing for any movement.
But there is nothing.
I have so many questions, but I don’t want to ask them yet. I don’t want the nurse to say anything in case my mom hears. Thankfully, she leaves the room so that it’s just me and my mom.
I sit by her side all night, and I must have nodded off, because at some point, my mom’s room is full of people. I’d fallen asleep. I jump up, but I can’t see her because there’s a wall of three, maybe four, medical staff in front of me, blocking my view.
“What’s going on?” I cry.
They’re working on my mom. There is noise and confusion, machines beeping. Ominous sounds of desperate people. A flurry of thoughts blasts at me like a tiny tornado and my hopes spiral to their death. I feel as if I am going to faint and everything
inside me threatens to shoot up through my throat.
Chapter Forty-Nine
MARI
* * *
She’s gone
My mom went peacefully, they tell me, but to me it seemed like anything but peaceful. They worked on her and tried to revive her. It was noisy and a hive of commotion. She had a heart attack in the end and they did all they could, but they couldn’t save her.
Standing on the edge, watching, praying, wishing, it didn’t help one bit. My mom passed anyway, and it seemed anything but peaceful to me.
I’m all cried out now. I begged for them to leave me with her, and they did. I clung to her warm hands for as long as I could. I sobbed my heart out, falling into pieces that will never be whole again. I lost my dearest, oldest friend, and I feel so empty that the slightest breeze could pick me up, carry me away and set me someplace else and I wouldn’t care. I don’t belong anywhere now.
As I leave the hospital, the birds are singing. I’ve never hated the sound of birdsong as much as I do now. What right do these creatures have to sing when I’ve just lost my mom, the only person who really cared about me? She was the only person who loved me unconditionally, no matter what. Her love was unparalleled; unlike the type of love I’ve had from others.
I return to Jamie’s place, and on the way I call and give him the news. I also apologize and tell him that I've been using his debit card. It’s such a trivial little thing to worry about in the grand scheme of things, I remember thinking this even as I said it to him.
Looking back, I don’t understand how I had the presence of mind to call Jamie and tell him that my mother had passed, let alone tell him about the cab fare.
But that’s the thing about life. It still goes on, and even though my mom has passed, the rest of the world carries on as normal.
I am numb during the entire cab ride. Each second I get further and further away from the place where my mom rests makes me feel as if I’m deserting her even though she left me first. I will never see her smile again, or have her gray-ringed eyes on me. I’ll never be able to put my arms around her frail body, and I’ll never go searching for the scent of lavender again.
