Echoes of the Heart

by Casey, L. A.

  “I know you wouldn’t lie.” I opened my eyes. “But I just can’t believe what you’re tellin’ me.”

  Dr O’Rourke grunted. “I’ve been in shock since I found out, but I’ve had a few days to process the news. So has your ma.”

  I jerked in response to his words.

  “She knows?”

  “Of course,” he answered. “I was with her when she got her diagnosis.”

  “And she remembers the conversation?”

  “Yes. We’ve spoken about it a lot, about how to go forward. Like I said, it is a progressive disease. She isn’t goin’ to just forget every single thing right away. It’s small things right now. Like where she put her keys, forgettin’ recently made appointments, buyin’ extra milk because she forgot she already bought some, or cookin’ food and forgettin’ about it.”

  I felt a gigantic wave of shame crash into me.

  “I had no i-idea,” I stammered. “I had no clue she has been goin’ through this.”

  “Frankie, neither did she. This is all as new to her as it is to you.”

  I understood that but I still felt like I should have noticed the things that Dr O’Rourke did. I was incredibly close to my mother, she was, in many ways, my best friend. We spoke every single day and saw each other frequently too. I had only moved out of her house in the past few days and moved in with Risk, into a cottage near the pier. The only reason we even got the cottage was because Dr O’Rourke was our landlord.

  He offered to rent to us during dinner a couple of weeks ago when I brought up that Risk and I wanted to move in together as soon as he turned eighteen. I was hesitant at first because my relationship with Dr O’Rourke had shifted from strictly being a doctor and a patient to a new sort of family unit. It wasn’t a problem though, he used a letting agency so we never had to deal with him directly, which made it feel less personal.

  This man noticed the signs in my mother that I should have spotted first; the guilt I felt was incredibly hard to stomach.

  “She asked me to tell ye about her diagnosis while I was here,” Dr O’Rourke continued. “She was alert when she was brought into the hospital earlier and asked the on-call doctor to notify me. She didn’t want ye to learn about her accident over the phone, she was terrified ye’d have an attack.”

  “Which I did,” I swallowed. “She knows me like the back of her hand.”

  I thought I knew her like the back of mine too, but all of the signs that she was ill were right in front of me and I missed every single one of them. I couldn’t describe the emptiness that brought. She was my mother, my best friend, and I didn’t see that she was sick. I didn’t see it.

  “That she does,” he said with a sad smile. “She thinks of everyone before herself. You’re the light of her life, ye know?”

  A lump formed in my throat and I sucked in a breath when a lone tear fell from Dr O’Rourke’s eye and meandered down his cheek. I had never seen him cry in my entire life. I had never seen him in a situation that was personal to him where he was vulnerable. It was entirely new ground for me to walk on, but my heart went out to him.

  “I love your ma, Frankie.” He wiped his cheek. “She has made me happier than I ever thought possible. I promise ye, I’m goin’ to be standin’ right by her side with you. She won’t go through this alone. Neither of ye will, I swear.”

  My chin quivered. “Is it goin’ to kill her?”

  Those words were thick enough for me to choke on.

  “You’re thinkin’ of the worst possible scenario right now because you’re scared. You’re lookin’ too far ahead; with this disease we need to only look as far ahead as the minute we’re in. Okay?”

  The fact that he didn’t answer my question with a solid no was not comforting in the least.

  “I want to see her.” I pushed loose strands of hair from my face. “Right now.”

  “I’ll drive ye,” Dr O’Rourke nodded. “Ring Risk, he should be with ye right now.”

  Before I hurried out of the room, I put my inhaler back inside its air box and closed it. It had been ingrained in me to always put them back when I took them out for use. A good habit to have when my asthma was as bad as it was.

  When I left the kitchen and entered my bedroom, I flipped on the light, closed the door and crossed the room to my wardrobe. I flung it open and grabbed the first items of clothing I could get my hands on. That ended up being a pair of black leggings and a white hoodie with the name of Risk’s band, Blood Oath, designed to look like it was spray-painted across the front in black.

  I didn’t even stop to search for a T-shirt or bra to wear under my hoodie, I simply grabbed a fresh pair of underwear and stripped out of my pyjamas then put on the clean clothes. I grabbed an old pair of blue Vans and slid my bare feet into them then tied the laces up tight. I grabbed a hair tie from my vanity table and gathered my mess of thick, unruly, curly, waist-length auburn hair and piled it to the top of my head and tied it into an ugly bun. I didn’t pause to perfect the look; I didn’t care about my appearance.

  I grabbed my phone as I went into my bathroom and called Risk, putting it on speaker as I washed my face and brushed my teeth. The phone rang and rang, but he didn’t pick up. I rinsed my mouth out with water followed by mouthwash as my call went to voicemail instead.

  “Hey,” the husky, deep voice of the boy I loved filled the quiet room. “Sorry I missed your call. I’ll hit you back when I have a sec.”

  When the tone beeped I said, “Risk, answer your phone. My mum was in a car accident, I’m going to the hospital with Dr O’Rourke. Please. I need you.”

  I ended the voicemail and instantly tapped on his name again. I took the phone off speaker and put it to my ear as I left the bathroom, then made my way into the kitchen where Dr O’Rourke was still sitting at my table, drinking what was by now likely to be a cold cup of tea. Risk’s voicemail played again in my ear. Annoyed, I ended the call before I could leave another message and sent him six back-to-back texts asking him to call me as soon as he could.

  “I’m ready.” I grabbed my bag from its hook. I checked it had an inhaler inside and once I saw it did, I closed it and grabbed my keys. “Let’s go.”

  Dr O’Rourke rose to his feet and, wordlessly, we left my home and headed to his car that was parked out front. We both hurried to get inside as the ice-cold breeze of the January winter night curled around us. It didn’t help that it was drizzling either. As soon as I buckled my seat belt, I said, “We need to stop off at Mum’s house to get her clothes and—”

  “I went there before I came here.” Dr O’Rourke interrupted as he buckled his belt and started the car. “I grabbed some underwear, pyjamas and some toiletries. I figured if she needed anythin’ more specific, we could grab it in a few hours when shops open up.”

  I nodded and looked down to my phone as he pulled the car onto the main road. Risk still hadn’t replied to me and there was no way in hell I was asking Dr O’Rourke to make a detour to the studio so I could see him. The studio was built right next to May Acton’s parents’ home. He was a member of the band and Risk’s best friend. I rang Risk a few more times. I phoned his friends too, to no avail. I sent him more back-to-back texts and received no response. I began to grow angry with him for not being there when I needed him, but I told myself that he was asleep.

  He’d answer my calls and texts otherwise.

  “How is Risk’s band gettin’ along?” Dr O’Rourke quizzed as we drove. “What’s the name of it again?”

  “Blood Oath,” I answered, appreciating the small talk. “They’re doing really well. They released their first EP last month and they’ve received lots of notice from it. One of the songs off it became really popular on Blink so their fanbase has grown hugely thanks to that. You know the way fanbases have their own names? Well, now so do Blood Oath’s fans. They’re called Sinners.”

  “What’s Blink?”

  “Just an app used for skits and dances and stuff.”

  “Oh, right.”r />
  The conversation died down and we spent the roughly thirty-five minute drive in silence. I was tense the entire journey and I sensed that Dr O’Rourke was too. I had so many questions that needed answering, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask a single one of them because I was too scared of what the answers would be. It had just gone half past six by the time we reached the hospital and parked. It was still pitch black outside, but there were more cars on the road as people began to wake up to start their day by heading to work. Quickly, I sent Risk another text telling him which hospital I was at so he’d know.

  “We’ll be allowed in, right?” I unbuckled my seatbelt. “Even though visitin’ hours haven’t started yet?”

  “I was told she would still be in casualty for a few hours until a bed opened up on one of the upper wards. She’ll probably have her surgery before then, though.”

  My heart stopped.

  “Surgery?” My voice cracked. “She needs surgery? You never said anything about her having a bloody operation!”

  “Her leg is badly fractured, Frankie.” Dr O’Rourke switched the engine off and pulled the handbrake up. “It won’t heal correctly on its own so she needs surgery.”

  “What will they do to her?”

  “They’ll likely insert pins, screws and a metal plate. That is standard for fractures that need surgical repair. I haven’t seen her X-rays, but the surgery is pretty straight forward.”

  I tried to remain calm, I told myself my mum getting surgery was a good thing. It would fix her leg and give her a better chance at her bones healing correctly. I repeated this over and over in my head, but I felt panicky. I needed Risk; we had known each other since we were in reception class, but we only started dating three years ago. He had rapidly not only become the love of my life, but a rock for me too. He never made me feel like a burden with my asthma or anxiety, he helped me through every attack I had and held me afterwards.

  He was my person and I needed him right now, to cope.

  “Right,” I said to Dr O’Rourke. “I understand, but does she know she needs surgery?”

  “Yes, she is aware.”

  We got out of the car and hurried into the hospital’s entrance to get out of the rain and bitter cold. I followed Dr O’Rourke through casualty and I was so glad that no one stopped us or asked what we were doing. I needed to see my mum more than I wanted my next breath.

  “Just through here,” Dr O’Rourke whispered.

  We entered a room full of cubicles that had their curtains drawn. There wasn’t much activity, but I could see a couple of nurses chatting as they sat behind the nurse’s station on the far side of the room. Dr O’Rourke approached cubicle six and I was right on his heels. He dipped inside and I heard Mum say, “You’re back, hon.”

  When I hustled inside and saw my mum for the first time, tears came fast and furious. She looked so small and weak in the bed before me. Her leg was in some sort of bandaged contraption. Her beautiful face was bruised and swollen all over and I saw she had gauzes on the back of her right hand along with one on her neck. I felt like someone was choking me.

  “Mum.”

  Her hazel, doe-eyes moved to me and instantly she lifted her arms and said, “I’m okay, honey. Come here.”

  I moved around the empty side of her bed and leaned down into her embrace as I burst into a sob. She put her arms around me, kissed my face and held me, swaying me slightly. She moved her hand to my lower back and began to pat the spot. She was calming me to prevent me from having an attack.

  This was a method we found that comforted me immensely when I was a child, and to this day it still relaxed me. Risk frequently did this whenever I was getting antsy or coming down from an attack. Sometimes I hated that I needed this kind of comfort because I wasn’t a child anymore, but I couldn’t help the fact that it was a source of solace for me.

  No one seemed to mind it except me, though.

  “Don’t be scared,” Mum said into my ear. “I’m okay.”

  But she wasn’t okay.

  Her leg being injured was just a minor black brush-stroke in a big picture of colour. My mind was revolving around the fact that my forty-six-year-old mother had Alzheimer’s disease. It was something I never even considered in a million years. I didn’t even know it was possible for someone so young to suffer from the disease. It was so far-fetched that it just didn’t feel real to me yet. That really bothered me. I was already terrified and the full weight of my mother’s health hadn’t even had time to settle and marinate in my mind.

  I didn’t know what I would do when I had the time to process it.

  “Are you really okay?” I whimpered. “Be h-honest with me.”

  I leaned back and Mum used her thumbs to wipe away my tears.

  “I was pretty sore,” she told me. “The doctors gave me some morphine so right now I feel a little loopy.”

  I managed a little laugh as I tried to force myself to stop crying. Mum was going through enough, she didn’t need to see me so upset. I already knew she worried about me constantly, her biggest fear was me being alone when I had an attack.

  “Where is your inhaler?”

  “Right here, Mum.” I patted my bag. “I checked before I left my house.”

  “Good girl. Did . . . Did Michael speak to you?”

  I nodded, blinking back another wave of tears.

  “Mum, I’m so sorry. I should have noticed the signs that Dr O’Rourke could see. I’m so sorry. I wish I could make this go away for you. I’d give anythin’, I swear I would.”

  “Little, I know you would, but what’s happenin’ to me is not your fault. It’s nobody’s fault, it’s just the cards I have been dealt. We have to roll with the punches, okay?”

  I bobbed my head as I sniffled.

  Hearing her call me the nickname she had called me since I was a child made me want to curl up next to her and cry myself to sleep. This was my mum and she was really sick. I couldn’t even allow myself to think of what was going to happen to her because it made me feel trapped in a room with no air. That was how I had felt when my dad died, it was how I still felt every day when I thought about him.

  “What are you of thinkin’, Frankie girl?” she asked, moving her hands to mine. “Tell me?”

  “Dad,” I choked. “I can’t lose you too, Mum. I can’t.”

  It had only been five years since my father passed away during an accident at his job and most days it didn’t feel like that much time had passed by at all. He was an electrical lineman. He was working on the line of a blown transformer the evening he died. He was electrocuted by a line that was exposed and had power when it shouldn’t have. He died instantly and just like the snap of my fingers, he left me and my mum all alone with nothing but his clothes and our memories of him.

  “Oh, honey.” Mum hugged me to her once more. “Please, don’t think like that. Okay?”

  It was impossible not to, but for her sake I nodded and tried my hardest.

  “Listen to me,” she took my face in her small, soft hands. “We’re going to get educated in this disease and we’re goin’ to do everythin’ we can to help me stay strong for longer, okay?”

  I hiccupped. “Okay.”

  She kissed my cheek then said, “D’you have your inhaler?”

  I frowned because she had already asked me that. I glanced at Dr O’Rourke, he gave me a discreet nod that he had caught it too. Mum had forgotten she had already asked me that question. This was my first experience with her disease now that I was aware that she had it. A feeling of helplessness that I had never felt before overcame me.

  “Yeah, Mum,” I answered. “I have it right here in my bag.”

  “Good girl,” she sighed. “You’re due a refill soon.”

  “Two weeks’ time,” I nodded. “I have it on a reminder in my phone so I don’t forget to go to the pharmacy.”

  Mum relaxed like she always did when she heard I was on top of taking care of my asthma. Ever since I moved out, she had been constant
ly worried about me since she wasn’t there to check that I had inhalers always stocked and on hand should I ever need them. I took her hand in mine and stroked my thumb back and forth, and before either of us could say another word, the curtain to her cubicle was pushed aside.

  “Good morning.” A brown-skinned, middle-aged, balding man inclined his head. “I’m Mr Coleman.”

  “Nice to meet ye, sir. I’m Dr O’Rourke, Mrs Fulton’s GP and partner.”

  The doctor looked to me after he shook Dr O’Rourke’s hand.

  “I’m Frankie.” I gripped his extended hand. “Mrs Fulton’s daughter.”

  “Lovely to meet you,” he retracted his hand and looked to my mum. “Sorry we have to meet under these circumstances, Mrs Fulton.”

  Mum smiled. “Me too.”

  “I know you’ve been told you need surgery on your leg, I will be the surgeon leading it. I just want to examine your leg, if you don’t mind?”

  “Go ahead.”

  The surgeon carried out his examination and I had no idea what he did because I was staring down at my mother’s face, trying to gauge if she was in any more pain than necessary the entire time. A couple of times, she made a face and I squeezed her hand to offer her as much support and comfort as I possibly could. I hoped I was helping her by being here because I felt as useless as a miniskirt on a windy day.

  “I’m happy to take her down now.” The doctor gained my attention. “I was concerned the swelling would be too much for surgery today, but it’s fine.”

  I gripped my mother’s hand tighter.

  “How long will the surgery take, sir?” I enquired. “And what will you be doing?”

  “The fracture your mum has is placed in such a way that would make it difficult to heal well on its own. I’m going to insert a small metal plate and have half a dozen screws seal it to the bone. This will ensure the fracture heals correctly, and the plate and screws will give the bone added strength and protection. A surgery like this can run from two to three hours, maybe more, maybe less. Each operation is different.”