A Woman Ignored (A Woman Lost Book 2)

by T. B. Markinson

  Ethan’s forehead wrinkled. “How long? I don’t know. But I should mention there are three of them.”

  “Three!”

  “The third one was nominated for Best Picture.”

  “Yeah, right.” I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t falling for that one.

  “I’m serious.” He pulled out his phone and brought up the wiki article.

  “Shit!” I clapped a hand over my mouth.

  Ethan chuckled. “Don’t worry. We’re teaching her curse words are just words, trying to take the power out of them.”

  “Let me know how that works out for you,” I winked.

  “Have you considered joining a soon-to-be parents group?”

  I studied his face to determine whether he was kidding. He wasn’t. Even the thought of it made me uncomfortable. “Should I?”

  “I didn’t, but you might want to.”

  “Uh-huh. Because everyone thinks I’m going to crash and burn,” I said bitterly.

  “Not true. We want you to succeed. Trust me, we’re all pulling for you.” He stared across the table at our wives, hesitated, and then asked, “How’s your mom?”

  Chapter Eight

  My cell rang at four in the morning. Fumbling to grab it, I accidently knocked it onto the carpet. Sarah flicked on her bedside lamp.

  “Who is it?” Her voice was raspy with sleep.

  I shrugged, too busy locating the ringing phone. “Hello,” I finally said.

  “Lizzie?”

  “Yes.” I sat up in bed.

  My father never called me, so I knew the news was bad.

  “It’s your father. I’m at the hospital with your mom.”

  I wanted to ask how bad it was, but I couldn’t force myself to utter the question.

  “Lizzie‌…‌you there?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry the phone cut out,” I lied. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Thank you,” he said, and then I heard a click.

  Thank you. My father wasn’t the type to say thank you. This was bad.

  Sarah wrapped her arms around me. She had nuzzled up next to me to hear the conversation. Normally, that type of behavior would annoy the shit out of me, but now I didn’t mind. It saved me from having to vocalize what was going on.

  Was this it?

  I rubbed my eyes forcefully and then chastised myself for lollygagging. This wasn’t the time for contemplation; it was the time for action.

  I jumped out of bed and grabbed up my jeans from where they lay crumpled next to the bed, not even bothering to locate underwear. Sarah followed suit, tugging on a wrinkled skirt. At first, I was going to tell her not to bother, that I’d go alone, but then I realized I wanted her there. My eyes felt briny, tearing over no matter how hard I tried to stop tears from forming.

  Before pulling our car out of the garage, Sarah said, “Hang on a second.”

  She threw open the car door and ran back inside, reappearing with one of my Nalgene bottles, which I usually kept in the fridge for my early morning rides. She plopped the bottle in the cup holder by the gearshift and then backed the SUV out of the garage. Immediately, I reached for the bottle, hoping water might force my sobs back down.

  Neither of us had said a word after the phone call. Actually, I was pretty amazed by our efficiency. We were dressed and out the door in less than five minutes. Sarah even managed to brush her teeth. I opted for a quick rinse with mouthwash.

  There was little traffic on the way to Denver; few people were up and out the door so early on a Sunday. The GPS led us right to the hospital entrance.

  “Do you want me to drop you off?” Sarah asked.

  The million-dollar question. Sarah hadn’t seen my family since Peter’s wedding. So far, Mom seemed content to ignore the big purple elephant in the room, and I wasn’t trying to force the issue.

  “I’m sure the cafeteria is open. I can hang out there.” She was trying her hardest to make the decision easy for me.

  All I had to do was nod and be done with it. A simple nod would make it clear Sarah would take no part in my family interactions, and she was giving me the okay to make that decision. I knew Sarah wasn’t the type to throw a hissy fit to get her way, not at a time like this. Because the circumstances were different this time around: my mother could be dying, right at this moment. And right at this moment, I wanted Sarah there. I knew I wouldn’t be able to do it without her. I had an urge to shout, Look at me! I’m growing up. But I still couldn’t speak.

  I motioned for her to find a parking spot. Then, as we were getting out of the car, I reached for her hand. Together, we headed toward the sliding glass door.

  As soon as we were inside, I released her hand; maybe I wasn’t growing as much as I thought.

  Mom was in the cancer ward. Cancer Ward. Capital C. Capital W. It was still a shock to my system to hear that word: cancer.

  I knew it was silly. I had been taking Mom for chemo treatments for weeks, and to the oncologist’s office for checkups. But for the most part, I had blocked out the nasty word. I had wiped away the reality and focused on the little things.

  Pick up Mom.

  Take Mom to her appointment.

  Wait for the appointment to end.

  Take Mom home.

  It was the only way I could avoid the gravity of the situation and still function. Compartmentalizing helped me stay strong. I lied to myself. I said I was doing it for my mother’s sake. Mom didn’t need to see her daughter breakdown. But I knew deep down that it was more for my sake than hers.

  My father stood outside the room. After shaking my hand, he turned to Sarah. “Thank you for coming. It’s good to know Lizzie has someone‌…‌well, you know.”

  I didn’t know how to handle that statement; from the look on Sarah’s face, she didn’t either. My father was a man of few words. He had said more to me in the past few weeks than he had during my entire childhood.

  “How is she?” I finally spoke. Even to me, my voice sounded thick, like I was drunk.

  “She’s resting at the moment.”

  “What happened?” Sarah took over, speaking on my behalf.

  “Evelyn discovered some swelling on her arm, near the chemo port. She’s being treated for Deep Vein Thrombosis.”

  I nodded, not absorbing the information. Evelyn! I always forgot Mom had a name. For years, I thought of her only as The Scotch-lady, nothing more.

  Evelyn.

  Her name made her real to me.

  My father continued. “DVT is the fancy term for blood clot. They’re worried it can get into her bloodstream and work its way into her lungs, which would cause a pulmonary embolism. Right now, they’re doing their best to thin her blood to liquefy the clot.”

  Pulmonary embolism. Why did all of these medical terms have to sound so fancy and intimidating? Deep Vein Thrombosis. Were they purposefully trying to scare the shit out of their patients and their family members?

  “When did she notice the swelling?”

  I admired Sarah’s ability to hold it together and to be able to speak.

  “In the middle of the night. She hadn’t been sleeping well,” he explained. “I would have called earlier, but she didn’t want me to.” He stared into my eyes, shrugged. “You know your mother.” Then he added, “Peter’s on his way.”

  On the inside, I was screaming, but I nodded crisply to my father. His stoic expression never changed. As a distraction, I tried to remember a time when my father had shown emotion, even a tiny flicker. But it was to no avail. I couldn’t.

  Still, I shouldn’t be too hard on the man. He was finally speaking to me—not that he was verbose with Peter either. My father usually let his wife do all the talking. Now that she was sick, he was stepping up to the plate, finally.

  “Would anyone like coffee?” asked Sarah.

  “Yes, please.” My father turned to her, his expression still blank. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll go with yo
u.” I looked at my father. “Shall we get Peter one, as well?”

  “Two actually. His fiancée is coming with him.” He didn’t wait for me to respond to the announcement. Instead, he just turned and walked back into my mother’s hospital room.

  I stared at the door that had just shut in my face. Sarah tugged on my arm, trying to dislodge the fog that had descended on my brain.

  Fiancée?

  Farther down the hallway, when I thought it was safe enough, I asked Sarah, “Did Maddie mention that my brother was getting married?”

  Sarah shook her head.

  “Why is it that every time my brother reenters my life, he has a fiancée?”

  In reality, it had only happened twice. My brother and I were not best buddies, so it wasn’t overly shocking that I didn’t know.

  “I’m not surprised, really. Peter always wanted a perfect life.” Sarah avoided my eyes, fixing her gaze on the signs at the end of the hallway. “I think there’s a coffee shop this way.” Once again, she had to yank on my arm to get me moving. My brain and my feet weren’t on speaking terms.

  We discovered a Starbucks’ trolley near the entrance, and I ordered four coffees, plus a chai for myself. Sarah was smart enough to load her pockets with different types of sugar packets and creamers.

  On the way back, I stopped in my tracks. “Should I get anything for Mom?”

  “I doubt she can have coffee at the moment.” Sarah didn’t sound convinced.

  “She’s been drinking a lot of herbal tea lately. I’ll get one. The last thing I want to do is hurt her feelings.”

  Sarah gave me an odd look, but said nothing.

  Before we turned the corner near my mother’s room, I heard Peter’s booming voice in the hallway. Jesus, didn’t he understand this was a hospital? Sarah’s expression said Just don’t say anything rude.

  I smiled at her reassuringly. Inside my brain, Just be nice, Just be nice was running on a loop. Just be nice. This will be over with soon. Just be nice.

  Peter towered over my father, who, surprisingly, looked much smaller than when I had I seen him minutes earlier.

  What was this like for my father? His wife of thirty-something years was in a hospital bed and, from what I heard from Maddie a few years ago, my father had been seeing the same mistress for years.

  Peter must have heard our footsteps. He stopped talking and eyed me menacingly, a perplexing smile turning up the corners of his mouth. The last time I had seen my brother, Maddie jilted him at the altar. His eyes told me he hadn’t forgiven my betrayal in leaving the wedding with Maddie.

  “I wasn’t sure what everyone wanted, so I hope plain coffee will do.”

  Sarah handed a cup to everyone, including a woman in a pink sundress.

  “This is fine.” My father removed the lid and blew into the steaming black liquid. It was odd, seeing my father do this. It made him human, vulnerable. My father, Charles Petrie, had to wait for his coffee to cool, just like everyone else.

  “We picked up some sugar packets and creamer.” Sarah emptied her pockets and placed the loot on a small table in the hall.

  The woman in pink snatched up two fake sugars and dumped them in her cup, swirling them in with a wooden stir stick. Peter, who wore golf clothes—yellow pants with a purple shirt that could only look good on the Easter Bunny—passed on the sugar. I think the Easter Bunny would have been too proud to wear that outfit.

  “Hi, I’m Sarah. And this is Lizzie—Peter’s sister.” Sarah offered her hand to the stranger dressed in pink.

  The woman hesitated.

  “Where are my manners?” Peter interrupted. “I’m so sorry. Elizabeth, I would like you to meet my fiancée, Tiffany.”

  My brother always insisted on calling me Elizabeth. I bristled at that, and at the fact that he hadn’t bothered to introduce my wife, Sarah. Just be nice.

  “Hi, Tiffany.”

  The woman spoke for the first time. “It’s Tie-Fannie.”

  I tilted my head to catch the pronunciation. “Tiff-any?” I repeated, knowing full well that was not what she had said.

  The pink lady shook her head and gave a fake smile. “No. It’s pronounced more like Tie-Fannie.”

  Tie-Fannie. It wasn’t bad enough that my brother was nearing forty and going to marry a chick who looked barely twenty-two, but he had to find a Tiffany who was so conceited she made up a whole new pronunciation of her name.

  “Oh, how unusual. Is that a family name?” asked Sarah in a sincere tone.

  Tiffany smiled, not responding. Maybe she didn’t want to ruffle Peter’s feathers. I was pretty certain Peter would have filled her in on his version of the jilted-at-the-altar story, leaving out that he was cheating on Maddie. He probably hadn’t yet informed his new fiancée that he had no intention of being a faithful husband. No doubt that detail was superfluous to my brother.

  “You never could count, Elizabeth,” said Peter.

  Count? How was this connected to his strange fiancée and the pronunciation of her name? I frowned.

  Peter nodded to my mother’s tea.

  “Thanks, Peter. I completely forgot I got Mom a tea.”

  “Tea?” scoffed Peter. “Did you add scotch to it?”

  Even Tiffany looked at Peter like he was a moron.

  “That was very thoughtful, Lizzie. Your mom just asked for a tea.” My father took the cup from me and disappeared into the hospital room.

  Peter looked triumphant. Both of us knew I wouldn’t get the credit for the tea. But I didn’t give a damn.

  “Dad said only two people are allowed in the room at a time. Would you mind if Tiff and I go first? I have a golf date with some clients.” Peter sipped his coffee, an odd twinkle in his eye.

  It took everything I had not to laugh in his face. Just be nice, Lizzie.

  “Not a problem, Peter.” I waved him in, and then turned my back on him and headed for a few chairs at the end of the hallway.

  “It was wonderful meeting you, Tie-Fannie.” Sarah stressed the pronunciation without a hint of mockery.

  Sarah and I settled into the chairs. Soon, my father joined us after Peter and Tiffany entered the room.

  “Your mother said thanks for the tea.” For a second, I thought my father was going to pat my knee, but he pulled his hand away.

  “When did Peter get engaged?” Sarah asked.

  For a split second, I thought I saw a trace of disapproval in Dad’s body language. “A couple of months ago.”

  “Have they known each other long?” probed Sarah.

  My poor father probably wasn’t used to being interrogated by anyone, especially about these types of matters. “A year,” he grunted.

  Sarah stopped her questioning and pulled out her cell phone. Was she texting Maddie? Hopefully not. I would like to break that news to her in person, not that she’d care all that much, not now that she had Doug the weatherman.

  The three of us sat silently until Peter and Tiffany approached. “Elizabeth, the nurse said Mom needs to rest for a bit before you can see her.”

  Sarah and I remained in our seats. I seethed. Why did he always insist calling me Elizabeth, knowing full well I didn’t like it?

  My father rose and Peter shook his hand, business-like. “Dad, let us know if you need anything. I would skip this damn golf game if it wasn’t so important.” He puffed out his chest like a soldier. Did he really think a game of golf superseded his mother being in the hospital? How pathetic.

  Peter always tried to appear more important than he was. True, he made a lot more money than me, but did that really matter? Both of us had trust funds, and neither of us had to work, really. But he stood in front of us posing as though the entire world as we knew it would collapse if he didn’t rush off immediately.

  My father escorted them to the elevator.

  “What a jackass,” I whispered to Sarah.

  She covered her mouth, trying to look concerned rather than a
mused. “You know, Peter.”

  “Pompous prick.” I sat up in my chair and mimicked, “I would skip the damn golf game—”

  Then my father stood before me, and I felt the blood rush to my face.

  Dad didn’t say anything. He sat down next to me and stared straight ahead.

  “How long will she be in the hospital?” Sarah tried to bury my faux pas.

  “A few days, at least.” Dad’s voice was strong, but it carried a tinge of sadness. I got the impression he wanted to breakdown, except he didn’t know how.

  “I can stop by the next few days and keep her company,” I offered. The idea of my mom alone in the hospital was an unbearable thought. I knew from my own battle with Graves’ Disease how scary it was to deal with an enemy that showed no mercy. My thyroid condition was treatable, but it didn’t have a cure. And it wasn’t nearly as scary as cancer, certainly not in my opinion.

  “Thank you. I would appreciate that. I think it’d be all right for you two to visit with her. The nurse said it was okay.”

  Wait? The nurse said it was okay? Had Peter lied to stall my visit? Was Peter trying to ruin whatever plans I had for the day? Not that I had any. And if I did, I would have canceled them, considering. What a conceited jerk.

  Sarah stood and waited for me. I hadn’t intended on asking her to actually visit with my mother, but after my father suggested the two of us should head in, I couldn’t refuse. I always wondered whether my father really gave a damn that I was gay. He hadn’t ever said a word either way. I added it to the list of things I didn’t know about the man: whether he believed in God, whether he had a favorite football team, whether he preferred dark or milk chocolate, or, just anything, really? My father was a stranger. The only reason I knew his middle name was because I’d peeked at his passport when I was a child.

  My mother. Well, that was a completely different story. I knew how Mom felt about me. Mom voiced her opinion, usually a negative one, all of the time. Whenever she had a chance, she took a dig at me for being a lesbian.

  Les-Bi-An: that was how she pronounced it. Akin to an odious disease, like leprosy in biblical times.

  Sarah paused right outside the door, and I let out a long breath and steadied my nerves. She gave me a mischievous smile, and all of a sudden I felt confident. I winked at her as we strolled in together to visit The Scotch-lady.