by Lea Coll
Two men rushed into the room. A woman in navy pants and a Chestertown Volunteer Fire Department motioned me to the side. “Can you tell me what happened?”
The other gentlemen examined and assessed her vitals—shouting numbers to his partner as he went.
“When I came home, she was passed out in vomit. Her belly was bloated, and she seemed feverish.” I glanced uneasily from her to the responders who were moving equipment back and forth.
“Do you know when she started drinking or how much she had?”
“No, I’m sorry. She was asleep when I left at eight a.m. I worked two jobs and then went to an Al-Anon meeting.” I should have skipped the meeting.
We stepped back farther when the responders moved past us with a stretcher. I shuddered at how small and fragile Mom’s body appeared on the stretcher.
“We’re going to UM Shore Medical Center.” The woman followed the stretcher outside.
I stepped outside and shivered in the cold as I wrapped my arms around myself. The ambulance doors shut, and it pulled away. I needed to clean her room before the house stunk like vomit, but I couldn’t move. I needed to lock the house, get in my car, and go to the hospital, but I was rooted to the spot.
Was this my life now? I knew she was going to have health issues from drinking, but I hadn’t expected the hospital visits to start so soon.
Shaking my head, I ran inside to grab my purse and keys, which I’d thrown to the floor when I came home. I locked the door and drove to the hospital. I tried not to think about what could happen—would she die? If not today, then down the road, and how did I feel about that? Things were getting worse and I needed help.
I parked in the large lot and ran inside through the large revolving doors to the front desk of the emergency room. When the woman looked up, I said, “Hi, my mother was just brought in by ambulance. Raina Cole.”
She checked her computer. “She’s being seen now. Here are forms to fill out while you wait. Someone will be out to update you.”
“Okay, thanks.” I blindly took the clipboard and the first empty seat. My hand shook as I tried to fill out the blanks on the form. How would I afford the bills? I’d taken out a policy for her because I’d been worried about health complications, but it had a large deductible to meet before coverage kicked in.
“Sadie?”
My head snapped up to find Tanner standing a few away from me. He was still in uniform, his hands in his pockets.
“What are you doing here?” My face felt hot with embarrassment.
“I was with Luke when the call came in. He told me it was your address.”
Our house was known after Dennis’s assault—local media vans and police cruisers had camped outside and kids spray-painted the front door with slurs. I bit my lower lip. I’d never told him I lived with my mother—he was going to think I wasn’t mature or independent.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I looked down at my shaking hands. All of a sudden, I was exhausted—weary of everything—my mother’s drinking, the bills, the responsibilities, the guilt, and the blame.
“Was it your mother who needed help?”
“Yes.”
“When was the last time you ate?”
I shook my head and licked my chapped lips. “I’m not sure.” To my horror, tears filled my eyes. I closed them tightly—willing them to go away—willing Tanner to go away. I didn’t want to break down in front of him.
“I’ll run to the cafeteria and get you something.”
“You don’t have to—” but by the time I opened my eyes, he was already walking away from me. I needed to pull it together so I could handle things for my mom. I took a few deep breaths to clear the tears. I finished filling out the paperwork and handed the clipboard to the woman at the desk.
Tanner came back a few minutes later with a steaming cup of hot chocolate and a turkey sandwich.
“Thank you.” I unwrapped the sandwich and took a few bites and a sip of hot chocolate before I asked, “You didn’t answer before—why are you here?”
He swallowed and I watched his throat work. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“But why? You don’t even know me. I’m sure you have better things to do than hang out in an emergency room.” I winced at the hurt that flashed through his eyes.
“I know you,” he said quietly.
His words pierced through me, sparking more tears to form. I put my sandwich down—my stomach suddenly full. I crumpled the wrapper and leaned back in the uncomfortable chair.
Could I lean on him? I was alone in this emergency room and the desire to talk to someone was overwhelming. “I came home to find her covered in vomit. Her stomach was distended, and she felt hot. She drinks a lot, and I read that women can have issues with their liver.”
“She’s an addict.”
I’d never told anyone. “I don’t want this to be my life.”
“I don’t know how long you’ve been going to Al-Anon but they teach the concept of detachment with love. You allow your mother to deal with the consequences of her drinking alone. Then you can focus on your well-being. It’s healthier for both of you.”
How would that work? She ran the mortgage up and the bank was threatening foreclosure. Was I okay with her not having a place to live? Would I be able to sign a lease for an apartment with my credit ruined?
“I don’t know your circumstances. When you’re living with an alcoholic, most of your problems can be attributed to her. If you separate yourself from her, you’ll find things will work out. It may take some time, but it’s better for you in the long run.”
“Did that work for you?”
He swallowed. “No. But my circumstances are different. I don’t live with Bree.”
“But you share custody with her. It’s not the same, but it comes with its issues.”
“The difference between us is that you don’t have a dependent in common. You can cut ties with your mother and live your own life.”
That was the question. Could I do that? If so, it would be the hardest thing I ever did. I swallowed, suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude that someone was here with me—that it was Tanner. “Thank you for being here.”
He covered my hand with his—the warmth of his skin seeped through me and calmed me.
“Is there anyone else you should call?” His voice was quiet.
“No. I’m all she has.”
“Gotcha.” He shifted his body to face me. “You have a lot on your shoulders. If you ever need to talk about your mother or anything at all, you can always call me.”
“I appreciate it more than you know.” We exchanged a look and I hoped he understood just how much. Talking to him helped, but telling him more about my situation was embarrassing. I was supposed to be a professional—an attorney. I was supposed to be in control of my life.
Tanner was a father. He was steady and responsible. My life was a mess compared to his.
We sat in silence while the possibilities of living separately from my mother and her problems floated through my mind. Could I move out of the home that held a lot of bad memories for me and get my own place? Removing my mother from my life opened up so many possibilities. I wanted to be hopeful and excited, but guilt still pressed on my chest. This was my mother I was thinking of letting go.
“Is someone here for Raina Cole?” the nurse asked, startling me.
I held my hand up, so the nurse knew I was here before turning to Tanner. “Thank you for waiting with me.”
“My shift is over, and my mom has Rylan for the night, so I’ll wait for you.”
“You don’t have to.”
He just raised his brow but didn’t move from his spot.
“Thank you.” Is this what it felt like to have someone on your side—supported and cared for? If I reached my hand out to him—he’d take it. If I fell—he’d pick me up. If I cried—he’d wipe my tears. I wrapped my arms around myself to still the longing as I followed the nurse through the
double doors.
“Are you her daughter?” the nurse asked as I followed her down the long narrow hall.
“I am. Sadie Cole.”
“I’m Beth, the nurse taking care of her.” She stopped at the door to a room with curtains separating the patients. “The doctor wants to speak to you. She’ll be here in a moment.”
“Thanks.” But she’d already left the room. My mother lay in the first bed, still asleep, hooked up to all kinds of tubes and cords—she was almost unrecognizable. I barely had time to process anything before a woman in a white coat walked in.
“Ms. Cole?”
“That’s me.” I licked my dry lips.
“Your mother’s liver is inflamed. Has she been experiencing hallucinations, fatigue, fainting, fever, swollen abdomen, vomiting blood, and severe mood changes?”
“She’s moody. I’m not around enough to know about the other stuff.” And I couldn’t remember a time when I didn’t smell alcohol on her breath.
“We see this with women when they drink more than the recommended amount per week. Our livers don’t process alcohol the same as men. If she keeps drinking, it will only get worse.”
I nodded, but inside, I was reeling. I wasn’t sure what I could do about it.
“Does your mother drink a lot?”
“She does.” It was easier each time to admit the truth—like some of the weight of the last few years shifted off me.
“Any idea how much?”
“No. I work a lot, so I’m not always with her.”
“You live with her?”
“I do, but I work two jobs so I’m not home with her all the time.” I’d stopped emptying her liquor down the drain years ago. It wasn’t worth the rage it sent her into.
“There are options I can tell you about if you think she’d go to rehab.”
I had tried to broach the subject over the years, but she denied she had a problem. She claimed she was a social drinker. “I don’t think she would, but I’ll take the information.”
“If she has insurance, this is the route I’d recommend and if she doesn’t, this one.” She handed me two brochures.
The doctor sat on one of the chairs and rested her concerned eyes on mine. “There are a few components to this. She has to be alcohol-free to be admitted and she has to want to be there. She can walk out at any time.”
That was the issue.
“If you don’t think she’ll go willingly, there’s not much you can do. I recommend going to Al-Anon meetings to talk to others going through the same thing.”
“I just started going to meetings.” The more she talked, the more anxious I felt. This was an impossible situation. I couldn’t help my mom out of it. I couldn’t force her to see reason. I couldn’t get her to see she was slowly killing herself.
She touched my arm lightly. “That’s good. Then you know you need to take care of yourself, first and foremost.”
I didn’t hear anything else the doctor said about being held overnight because I was fixated on her suggestion that I take care of myself. It was the same thing Tanner said.
My mom was still sleeping when the doctor left, so I headed back to the waiting room to find Tanner leaning forward, his elbows on his knees as he scrolled through his phone. His hair was mussed like he’d run his fingers through it. What would it be like to have someone to share this burden with? To always have someone waiting for me? The desire was so strong I struggled to pull in a breath.
When I stopped in front of him, Tanner lifted his head. “Hey, you okay?”
I had the strangest urge to step between his legs, to feel his arms around my waist, and his head on my stomach. Instead, I moved to sit next to him. “Yeah, they’re going to hold her overnight. Her liver’s inflamed.”
“No, are you okay?”
I looked away. “I’m not the one in the hospital. The doctor said she needs to go to rehab but she has to be willing and she’s never been before. She thinks she’s a social drinker. That it’s okay to drink every night.”
“You can’t help her until she admits she needs help.”
“That’s what the doctor said. I don’t even know the extent of her problem. All I know is that she’s smelled of alcohol as far back as I can remember.”
“Alcoholics are good at hiding bottles, how much they’re drinking, the fact that it’s a problem.” He moved his arm to rest on the back of my chair.
I wanted to lean into his side and rest my head on his shoulder. “I think I’m going to head home. There’s nothing I can do for her here.”
I needed to lie down. There was no way I could sleep—not with all of this resting on my shoulders but I was exhausted.
He nodded.
Maybe a good daughter would stay, but she wouldn’t be happy if she woke up and found herself in the hospital. I shivered at the thought of her reaction. She hated hospitals almost as much as she hated police officers.
He stood. “I’ll walk you out.”
We walked side by side through the large parking lot. Our hands brushed for a second and I wanted to reach for him, but I didn’t. I stopped at the passenger side of my car.
“Is this your car?”
“Yes.” Was that disgust I heard in his tone or was I being overly paranoid?
He tilted his head and I knew he wondered why I was standing on the wrong side of the car.
I hesitated and wondered if I should pretend and walk around to the other side until he left. “Thanks for coming tonight.”
I turned toward him, hoping to get his attention off of my car but the move brought my chest only inches from his. I wanted to rest my palms on his shirt to feel his muscles. I licked my lips, suddenly nervous, and his eyes drifted down to catch the movement. If he leaned down a few inches and I went up on tiptoes, our lips would touch.
His eyes flicked away from my lips to a point over my head. “Do you want me to follow you? I don’t trust that you’ll make it there in this car.”
Shame filled me—Tanner was seeing more than I’d ever allowed anyone to see—my mother’s condition, my beat-up car. “Oh, no. That’s not necessary. It’s in better shape than it looks.”
“I’m not leaving until you’re inside the car.” He ducked his head to look in the back seat.
His concern made me feel protected—safe—even if I was embarrassed about the state of my car. I edged away from him and slowly made my way around the hood, hoping he’d leave. “Where’d you park?”
“There’s parking for police by the entrance.” He gestured toward the front of the hospital as he watched me.
“Oh, nice.” I hovered by the driver’s side door, fingers on the broken handle, hoping he’d leave.
“Sadie?” His voice was low and rumbly as he came around to me. “Are you okay? Are you too upset to drive?”
It was tempting to take a ride from him, but I needed my car for court tomorrow and to pick my mother up when she was discharged. “I’ll be fine.”
He stood unmoving, waiting for me to open the door. He was clearly not leaving until I was inside. I sighed heavily and took a step back from the car. “My door won’t open.”
He looked in confusion at my driver’s side door. “Is it stuck? I can—”
“No, it’s not stuck. I mean, it is, but you can’t open it. The handle only works from the inside. I think I need a whole new door.”
“Okay.” He drew the word out. “So, how do you get in?”
“I get in on the passenger side and crawl through.” I stared at a spot over his shoulder, my cheeks burning hot.
He stood, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m not leaving until you’re on the other side.”
“Fine.” I walked to the other side of the car with him following, opened the door, slid inside, and lifted myself as gracefully as I could over the console.
His hand was on the doorframe as he leaned inside. “You don’t lock your car?”
I gestured at the dash. “It’s not necessary. I almost wish someone woul
d steal it.”
His lips twitched. “That’s not the point. It’s for your safety. Someone could be hiding in the back seat.”
“That’s true.” I didn’t mention that I worried it wouldn’t unlock if I locked it. I was concerned it would break down and need an expensive repair.
“Drive safely, okay? Are you working at the dance studio tomorrow?” Tanner’s eyes held no judgment, only concern.
“I am.” When could I pick up my mother between my jobs tomorrow?
“Don’t worry if you see a cruiser following you, because it’s me.” Before I could argue, he added, “Have a good night.” He closed the door softly and slapped the top of the car before walking away. I waited a minute before backing out, so he had time to walk to his car.
The lights followed in my rearview until I pulled into my driveway. I waved from my porch before opening my door. I cleaned my mom’s room and started the laundry before I showered and fell into bed.
It had felt good to have Tanner by my side at the hospital. He’d waited for me to talk to the doctor, he wanted to follow me home, and he planned to see me tomorrow. It could only be for one reason—he liked me. I was looking forward to seeing him tomorrow and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d looked forward to anything.
Tanner
The next morning, I ran to the junkyard before work. I wanted to fix the handle of her car. It wasn’t safe to crawl through the other side. It took her longer to get in the car and gave more time for a perp to attack her if he wanted. It was impossible to get worst-case scenarios out of my head as a cop.
Why did she drive that junker of a car, live with her mother, and work two jobs when she was an attorney? I suspected her addict mother was taking her money. Sadie was a smart woman, but anyone could be taken in by a manipulative family member—especially when Sadie said she only had her mother.
When I learned the emergency call was Sadie’s address—I assumed Sadie was hurt. The fact that I barely knew her and had no business going to the emergency room never entered my mind. I had an overwhelming need to go and make sure she was okay. I’d never felt relief like I had when I saw her sitting unhurt in the waiting room.