by Nikki Ash
Giselle rolls her eyes, misunderstanding the meaning behind my words. “Not up to your standards?” She eyes me up and down. “Don’t worry, I have no intention of sleeping with you either.” Her nose scrunches up in disgust.
“You would if I paid you to,” I point out, and she glowers. Jesus, have I always been such a dick?
“I’m so—”
“Oh my god! If you say you’re sorry one more time, I’m going to leave you here. How about you just stop talking for a while, so you won’t have anything to apologize for?”
I nod once, and we go back to dancing in silence. One song flows into the next and eventually the awkward silence almost turns comfortable. At one point, I think Giselle even forgets who she’s dancing with because she lays her head down on my shoulder. A lump forms in my throat at the gesture, and I try to block out how good she feels in my arms. She isn’t my date. She’s here because she’s getting paid to be.
A few songs in, the music comes to a stop and dinner is announced. Of course we’re seated at the same table as Olivia and Nick, Celeste and her date, and Olivia’s parents. We eat and converse. Olivia and Nick speak on behalf of Touchdown for Reading and the Arts, and then they start to announce the winners of the auctions.
“…and the winner of the cruise for two donated by Global Yachts is…Giselle Winters with a bid of twelve thousand dollars. Thank you, Giselle.”
Giselle’s eyes bug out, but she stands to walk up to the podium, not wanting to cause a scene. “Thank you.” She smiles nervously, takes the coupon, then sits back down.
Jokingly, when I filled out my bids, I put her name instead of mine. I thought it was funny at the time. Now, seeing her pissed off scowl, it doesn’t seem quite as funny. “Asshole,” she hisses, slapping the paper on the table in front of me.
“It was just a joke,” I whisper. “I didn’t really think I would win any of them.”
“You’re paying for this.” She glares my way.
“Obviously.” I hand her back the coupon. “Global Yachts has beautiful ships. Take someone and have a good time.”
“I don’t want anything from you,” she whispers, refusing to take the paper. Not wanting to argue, I fold the paper and put it into my jacket pocket.
Once all the auction winners are announced, the deejay turns the music back on and several couples make their way back to the dance floor. Since Giselle and I seemed to have found common ground while dancing earlier, I extend my hand and ask her to dance.
Once again, she eyes my hand and asks, “Why?”
This time, though, I don’t answer her like I did before. Instead, I tell her the truth. “Because you look absolutely breathtaking tonight and I enjoyed our last dance. I can’t think of a better way to spend my evening than on the dance floor with you.”
She appears stunned by my words, but doesn’t argue. Instead she stands and takes my hand. I lead her out onto the dance floor, where I spend the next hour—with Giselle in my arms as we sway to the music.
The evening comes to a close, and after saying goodbye to Olivia and Nick, we step outside. My driver circles around to pick us up, and once we’re in the car, he asks where we’re headed.
“Brooklyn Heights, please,” I say.
“Actually, if you could please drop me off at the subway station that would be great.” Giselle glances down at her phone. “Grand Central off 42nd Street.” That’s when I notice she has a duffle bag with her. She must’ve brought it with her when I picked her up, but I was too in shock over learning she was my date, I didn’t notice.
“We can drop you off at home,” I insist. I know she got upset over the silent auction and some of the stuff I said, but after I apologized we seemed to have an okay time.
“I’m not going home.”
“Where are you going?”
“To the subway station.”
The driver glances back at me and I shake my head.
“I saw that!” Giselle hisses. “What are you going to do, keep me hostage in your dumb limo?”
“Damn, first my Bugatti is stupid and ugly and now my limo is dumb? What have my vehicles ever done to you?” I laugh, and Giselle growls. “Tell me where you’re going,” I insist.
“To my mom’s! And if you take me to Brooklyn, it will only make my trip longer.”
“Leo,” I say to my driver.
“Sir?”
“There’s been a change of plans. Please stay here for a moment.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Killian, I don’t need you to take me. I can take myself,” Giselle says, but I ignore her, stepping out of the vehicle. I dial Nick’s number and he answers on the second ring.
“Did you drive here?”
“I did.”
“Perfect, I need to borrow your car. I’ll tell my driver to wait here for you.”
“Okay, just let the valet know.”
“Thanks, man.”
We hang up, and I let my driver know the change in plans. Then I have the valet bring around Nick’s car. After arguing with Giselle for a good five minutes, I convince her to get in the car and then we’re on our way to Rye, where her mom lives. It’s a good forty-five minute drive, but I make it in close to thirty.
“Thank you,” Giselle says. “You can go ahead and go. I’m spending the night.”
“You’re welcome.”
She shocks me when she leans over and gives me a kiss on my cheek. “Despite the rocky start, I had a good time.” She grabs her bag from the backseat and gets out of the car. As I wait for her to get safely inside, I check a couple text messages that came through while I was driving. I’m about to back out when the door swings back open, and she comes running out.
“Killian, my phone is dead! Call 911 now!” She runs back inside without waiting for me, and I follow her in, doing as she said. When the operator answers and asks what the emergency is, I’m not sure what to say. And then I see her. Giselle’s mom lying on the bathroom floor with empty pill bottles surrounding her.
“We need an ambulance. Someone has overdosed on prescription drugs.” I tell her the address then hang up. Giselle’s holding her mom in her arms and rocking her back and forth, begging her to wake up. She’s completely still.
I google what to do when someone overdoses. Every website says to call for help and to make sure the person’s airway isn’t blocked. “Open her mouth and turn her face to the side in case she chokes,” I tell her. She does what I say and then continues to rock her mom while begging her to wake up.
Finally the paramedics arrive and take Giselle’s mom out of her arms. Tears of devastation and fear are dripping down her cheeks as she quickly answers their questions. I gather up the pill bottles and hand them to them, and then they’re leaving with her mom on a gurney.
“Let’s go,” I say to Giselle who is standing still in the driveway watching the ambulance leave.
“This is all my fault.” Her voice is so soft, I almost don’t hear her.
“Giselle, c’mon, we need to get to the hospital. I doubt it’s your fault, but right now it really doesn’t matter.”
When she doesn’t move, I walk around in front of her. Her cheeks are stained from her tears, and she looks almost as lifeless as her mom.
“I was supposed to be here.” She shakes her head. “And then Bianca said if I didn’t go tonight, I would be fired.” Even in the darkness, I can see her throat move as she attempts to swallow her guilt down.
“I was on a date while she was trying to kill herself. I should’ve been here.” She nods once to no one in particular then finally makes eye contact with me. “If you can let me use your phone, I can call for a cab. Thank you for calling the ambulance. When I found my mom, her phone was floating in the toilet. And when I tried to dial 911 from mine, it wouldn’t even turn on. I didn’t realize my phone was dead. I must’ve forgotten to charge it. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t still here.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad I had
n’t left yet. I’m not letting you call for a car. Let’s go.” Gently, I grip her wrist and guide her to Nick’s BMW. Thankfully, she gets in without arguing, and we head to the hospital.
Ten
Giselle
The entire drive to the hospital is spent with me silently working myself up. My mom is dead. How could she not be? As I held her in my arms, I couldn’t find a pulse. I couldn’t feel any air coming from her nose. Her body was limp and she was white as a ghost. I don’t work in the medical field but it doesn’t take a doctor to know the odds are stacked against her. I have no idea how many pills she swallowed or how long ago she swallowed them. It’ll be a miracle if I’m told she’s alive. I should call my sister and tell her what’s going on, but I can’t do it. Isn’t telling your younger sister your mom is dead something that should be done in person?
This is all my fault. I should’ve gone straight to her the minute Dedra said she had to leave. It doesn’t matter that she’s been happier lately. Laughing and smiling. I know that at any given moment she can sink back into her depression. I shouldn’t have chanced it. Her life should’ve been more important than my job. More important than money. But the job and the money is how you take care of her…
Killian parks Nick’s car, and I jump out, heading straight through the emergency room entrance. I find the front desk and give the nurse my mom’s name. After she confirms who I am, I’m told she’s been put into the system and is being worked on.
“She’s not dead?” I ask.
The nurse’s lips twist into something between a frown and a sad smile. “I’m not sure,” she admits. “It doesn’t give me any information. I’ve notated you’re here, and as soon as there’s any information you’ll be called.”
I thank her and have a seat. Killian sits next to me. I should tell him he can go, but I don’t. As strange as it may seem, it feels nice having him here with me. He’s the only person aside from my dad and sister who has seen my mom at her worst. And while he’s said some pretty shitty stuff to me, he’s never said a single mean thing about my mom.
I’m not sure how long we sit here, but at some point, his hand makes its way into mine and my head makes its way onto his shoulder. My thoughts go back to last week when I wished for a man’s shoulder to put my head on. My eyes close and my body shuts down temporarily, needing a tiny moment of reprieve from the onslaught of emotions that are weighing down on me.
“Giselle.” I hear my name being whispered. I open my eyes and lift my head to find Killian softly smiling at me. “The doctor is here to speak to you.” My body shoots up too quickly and everything goes fuzzy. Killian’s hands grip my waist, and I steady myself.
“Thank you,” I whisper then step closer toward the doctor.
“Next of Kin to Sarah Winters?” he asks.
“Yes, I’m her daughter.” I extend my hand to shake his and he takes it.
“I’m Dr. Goldberg. As I’m sure you’re aware, your mother overdosed on prescription drugs. We were able to pump her stomach in time. We have her in a drug-induced coma and will slowly lower the dosage. I’m going to strongly suggest you have her Baker Acted.”
“What’s Baker Acted?” I ask.
“It’s when you sign off on your mom to be held for up to seventy-two hours for involuntary examination.”
“Like being committed?” I question.
“Yes, the doctors will be able to assess her more thoroughly. The form you filled out indicated she’s been on several different types of prescriptions over the years. My guess is she’s seen different psychiatrists who have diagnosed her to the best of their ability, but my recommendation is to have her evaluated more thoroughly. With this suicidal attempt, plus the scars on her wrists, which indicate this isn’t her first attempt to commit suicide, and add in the different diagnoses, they may even recommend she stay longer.”
My initial thought is to ask how much this will all cost, but he’s only the doctor, so he won’t know anyway. My next thought is that I’m a horrible fucking daughter to worry about the cost when my mom almost died. I will figure out how to cover whatever the cost is.
“Thank you. I will sign off to have her Baker Acted.”
“Okay, I’ll write up the referral to have her transferred.” He flips through what looks like her chart. “It shows you’re self-pay. I must warn you this is a private facility.” This is exactly what I was afraid of. “They will bill you for the initial consultation, but if they decide to keep her after that, you will have to pay up front. You’ll have a couple people come by so you can fill out and sign some forms, and they can go over everything with you.”
I glance over to Killian who heard everything he said. “Can I go see her now?”
“Yes, but she’s still unconscious.”
I thank him one more time, and then he heads back to wherever he came from.
“You can go ahead and go,” I tell Killian. “I have no clue how long I’m going to be here, but I imagine it will be a while. Thank you so much for everything you’ve done.” I pull him into a hug, and surprisingly he wraps his arms around my waist. My face presses against his chest, and for a moment, I revel in the scent that is Killian. A hint of cologne and a whole lot of just him. I let out a deep cleansing breath. It’s been a long time since I felt safe, but here in his arms, surprisingly, I feel just that.
“Are you sure?” he asks, concerned.
“Yes, thank you.” I’m used to dealing with this on my own, and I can’t let a friendly gesture from Killian change that. All I can count on is myself and that’s not going to change. I might not be able to stand on my own two feet when it comes to living on my own yet, but I’ve never once asked anyone to come to the rescue when it comes to the rest of my life.
Killian nods once. “All right, but if you need anything please call me.” He walks over to the front desk and comes back, handing me a piece of paper with his number on it. “Anything.”
“I appreciate that.”
I watch Killian walk away, then ask which room number my mom is in. The nurse directs me in the right direction and I head back to her room. I should probably call Adrianna and tell her what’s going on, but I don’t want to worry her. She needs to focus on her classes. She’ll just want to drive down to be here when there’s nothing she can do anyway.
My mom’s room is quiet with only the sound of the machines monitoring her. Her color is starting to come back, and she looks so peaceful. My heart clenches at the thought of her waking up. Why can’t the psychiatrists figure out what’s wrong with her? She deserves to be happy, to live a healthy life. One where she doesn’t think her only answer is to kill herself.
Eleven
Giselle
“The quarterly earnings are projected to be up two hundred percent…” Paul, my date for the evening, drones on with his business partner over how much money they’re expected to make this year. I’m trying to focus on what he’s saying, appear like I give a shit about whatever they’re discussing, but I’m finding it hard to focus. It’s been four days since I signed for my mom to be committed to a mental health facility. I’ve applied to several insurance companies, but because of her situation, I keep getting denied. Nobody wants to take on someone with preexisting conditions, especially as extensive as my mom’s. Because she’s still legally married to my father, she doesn’t qualify for state assistance and the government offered insurance won’t cover her stay. I make a note to speak to an attorney about filing for divorce on my mother’s behalf. If the house sells, I need to make sure my father doesn’t get a dime of the money I make from the sale.
Paul’s hand squeezes my thigh, and I look over to him, realizing I’ve been zoning out. I give him a smile, but his brows pinch together. He knows something is up. We’ve been out enough times that he knows me well enough to know I’m not all here. He quirks one brow up, silently asking if I’m okay. I give him another smile and then stand, excusing myself to the restroom. Paul’s business partner stops speaking and looks to hi
s wife, Patricia, to see if she needs to use the restroom…because apparently women can’t use the restroom on their own. She stands as well and follows me down the hall. We both enter our stalls. I go pee and then wash my hands. While I’m drying them, I feel my phone vibrate in my clutch. I pull it out to make sure it isn’t Serenity calling—the behavioral health facility my mom’s in.
Unknown: “Have I gone mad?” “I’m afraid so. You’re entirely bonkers. But I’ll tell you a secret. All the best people are.”
Glancing back, I see Patricia is still in the stall, so I text back: Who’s this?
Unknown: The Mad Hatter
I laugh to myself. I can’t be positive, but something tells me this is Killian. He’s the last person I spoke to about my love for Alice in Wonderland. Instead of asking if it’s him, I go along with it.
Me: Funny. Enjoying the book?
Unknown: Yep!
Me: Too bad that quote is from the movie…
I watch as the bubbles appear and disappear. Then, finally a response comes through.
Unknown: You got me. And it’s Killian.
Me: I figured… go read the book! A movie should never be a substitute. First read the book, then watch the movie. How did you get my number anyway?
I input Killian’s name into my contacts while I wait for him to respond.
Killian: In high school, the movie was always the perfect substitute ;) I got your number from Olivia. I hope that’s okay. I just wanted to see how you’re doing…how your mom is doing.
My heartrate picks up and tears prick my eyes. The truth is I’m not doing well at all. I’m scared for my mom, tired from working fifteen hour days to try to earn the money I’m going to need to pay for my mom’s treatment. I feel like I’m drowning. Every day feels like a struggle to breathe, to simply exist. But I don’t tell him any of that. Instead, I text him back that I’m okay, and thank him for checking on my mom and me.
He responds with: What are you doing right now?
