by Laura Lee
I grin knowing that Gabby and Rick are going to have a great time when they get home tonight.
I’m exhausted by the time I pull into my parking spot but I have to drop next month’s rent check in the slot before heading to Gavin’s. He’s been in Sausalito all week so I’ve been staying at his place with Frodo. Despite my fatigue, my body’s humming in excitement from all the money I made tonight. It’s definitely a great way to end the week when you have enough to pay for two months’ rent. I open the door to my apartment and find Cybil passed out on the couch.
“Oh, geez,” I mutter as I kick the back of the couch. “Cybil, get up. What are you doing here? You don’t live here anymore in case you forgot.”
She mumbles incoherently.
I round the couch and shake her foot. “Cybil, seriously. You can’t just come back here whenever you need a place to pass out drunk. You left me, remember?”
She rolls over and falls on the floor. That’s when I notice that her eyes are closed and there’s a tourniquet tied around her arm.
“Oh, fuck!” I cry as I run over to her side. I shake her gently. “Cybil, wake up.”
She still doesn’t respond so I lightly tap her cheek. “C’mon, Cybil. Don’t do this.” I move closer to her ear. “WAKE UP! MOM! MOM! Damn it, WAKE UP!”
I start shaking her shoulders violently when she does not react to my screaming in her face. Her lips have a bluish tint to them and she has vomit down the front of her shirt. Oh, God. I dig through my purse for my cell and dial 911.
“Hello 911 Emergency. Do you need police, ambulance, or fire?”
“Hello,” I respond frantically. “I need help. My mom…my mom overdosed, I think. Heroin. She does heroin.” My eyes dart around the room and sure enough, I spot the needle on the floor.
“Ma’am, what is your address?”
“211 Collins Street. Apartment 3.”
“Help is on the way, ma’am,” the operator says calmly. How can she be calm right now? “Is your mother breathing?”
“Um…” I look at Cybil and see her chest rising and falling. Barely. “Yes, I think so. But she doesn’t look good.”
“I’m going to stay on the phone until the ambulance gets there. While we’re waiting for them, we’re going to try to help her together. Okay?”
“Okay,” I sob.
“Is your mother conscious?”
“Mom, wake up. Can you hear me?” The tears fall freely down my face when she doesn’t respond. “No, she’s not. She mumbled a few minutes ago but now she’s not saying anything.”
“Okay, ma’am. We’re going to try to stimulate her with mild pain. All I need you to do is rub your knuckles into her sternum. That’s the spot in the middle of her chest where her ribs meet. You need to use enough pressure to cause mild discomfort. Do you think you can do that?”
I clench my hand into a fist and rub the spot she’s indicated. When Cybil doesn’t flinch, I do it a little harder.
“Nothing’s happening,” I cry. “Why is nothing happening?”
“Is she still breathing?”
I place my head on her chest. It scarcely rises every ten seconds or so. “Not much. Her breaths are really slow.”
“Do you know how to perform CPR?”
I nod, thinking back to freshman year health class.
“Ma’am? Are you still there?”
“Yes, I’m here. I think I know how. I’ve never done it before.”
“I’ll walk you through it step-by-step. Can you put your phone on speaker?”
I do as she says and place my phone on the dingy carpet. “Okay, you’re on speaker. What do I do?”
“She needs to be on her back,” she says. “Is she on her back?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, tilt her chin up and check inside her mouth to see if there’s anything blocking her airway. If you find anything, remove it if you can.”
I tilt my mom’s chin up and pry her lips open to sweep my finger inside. I go from cheek to cheek and feel nothing so I look down the back of her mouth as far as I can.
“There’s nothing. Nothing’s in her mouth.”
“Okay, we’re going to start mouth-to-mouth but no chest compressions. You’ll need to plug her nose with one hand, and give two even, regular-sized breaths. Blow enough air into her lungs to make her chest rise. If you don’t see her chest rise out of the corner of your eye, tilt the head back more and make sure you’re plugging her nose sufficiently. Tell me when you’ve done that.”
I press my lips to Cybil’s and gag as I taste the remnants of her vomit. I follow the operator’s instructions and watch as her chest inflates and subsequently falls. I hear sirens roaring in the distance but I feel no relief as you might expect. All I can think about is the fact that my mom is lying here unconscious while I’m literally trying to breathe life into her.
“I’ve done it twice,” I shout. “But she’s still the same.”
“Okay, ma’am. Paramedics will be there to assist at any moment. I want you to continue giving your mom one breath every five seconds until they arrive.”
I count to five four more times before there’s a knock on my door. I run to open it and step aside as a man and woman dressed in paramedic uniforms cross the threshold. Since my living room is right inside the door, they easily locate my mom and get to work. Everything is a blur as they assess her condition and do what they can to treat her. They do some more breathing and inject something into her thigh but they’re moving so fast I can’t decipher much else. I step over to the small table and take a seat as they raise their gurney and strap her in. The woman looks back at me while she takes up the rear and starts pushing my mom through the door.
“The town clinic isn’t set up for this type of emergency. We’re taking her to Lincoln City Memorial. Do you know where that is?”
I nod. Lincoln City is only a ten-minute drive north. Like any small coastal town, nothing is really hard to find.
She gives me a sympathetic look. “Would you like to ride with us?”
I wipe the tears out of my eyes to clear my vision. “No, I’ll follow you.”
The paramedic nods. “Okay, check in with the front desk at Emergency and they’ll direct you to the right place.”
I numbly grab my purse and watch as they load my mom into the back of their rig. I’m not even sure if I remember to lock the door as I climb in my car and turn the ignition. The ambulance lights flash as it pulls onto the road while I go into autopilot and shift my car into gear to follow.
“HI, I’M HERE FOR CYBIL KENNEDY. The paramedics said she’d be here.”
The hospital receptionist clicks her fingers on the keyboard, searching for Cybil’s room number, I’m guessing. She purses her lips. “Are you a family member?”
I nod. “I’m her daughter.”
The woman looks down for a moment before coming from behind her desk. She places her hand on my elbow with compassion in her eyes.
“It looks like they’re blocking all visitors at the moment but her doctor should be able to speak with you soon. Let’s go into the private waiting room. It’s right down the hall.”
I look around at the main room filled with at least a dozen people who seem to be waiting as well.
“Um, I can just wait right here.”
She gently nudges me forward. “It’s best if we go to a private location, dear.”
She leads me down a narrow hallway and places her employee badge against a sensor. The door clicks open and she steps aside to let me in. The room is small, maybe four feet by ten feet. Six chairs are lined up against the wall with a small television hanging in the corner. “It shouldn’t be too long,” she says.
I nod as I sink into a chair. “Thank you.”
She closes the door softly, leaving me to myself. I tap my leg and pick at my nail polish while I wait. It feels like at least thirty minutes have passed and I’m starting to think they forgot about me. Right before I get up to go check, I hear the lock engaging.
I frown when I see Marcus coming through the door instead of a doctor.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him.
“The hospital called me,” he says. “Your mom listed me as her emergency contact when we got married.”
There’s no way I heard him correctly. “I’m sorry; when you what?”
His brows knit together. “She didn’t tell you?”
“That you got married?” I shriek.
“Yes,” he nods. “Two weeks ago. We flew to Vegas for the weekend. I thought you knew.”
“Unbelievable,” I say as I slouch into the chair.
He takes a seat two chairs over. “Have you heard anything yet? The lady on the phone wouldn’t give me any details. She only said it was urgent.”
“Not yet.” The tears start falling again as flashes of her lying unconscious run through my head.
Marcus slowly rises from his seat and takes the spot right next to me. I’m too numb to question him as he puts his arm around my shoulders. “What happened?”
I grab a tissue from the side table and blow my nose. “Maybe I should ask you that. Why was she at my apartment?”
He releases a deep sigh. “We had an argument. She said she was staying the night with you.”
I tense. “When did she start using again? She told me she’s been clean for months.”
Marcus looks confused. “What do you mean? She hasn’t touched anything besides pot since we met. She knows illegal drugs are a hard limit for me. I’m not going to spend my time with a junkie.”
“But marrying a cheap hooker is okay?” I scoff.
“Don’t talk about her that way. There is nothing cheap about Cybil.” He adjusts in the chair to face me better. “Look, Katherine. Regardless of what you think, I love your mom. She has this spunk that’s hard to find. Our relationship might not be…traditional in your eyes, but it’s a relationship nonetheless. It works for us. I would’ve never married her if it didn’t.”
“I can’t believe she got married and didn’t tell me.”
He winces. “I’m sorry; I really thought you knew.”
“That doesn’t matter right now. I just want her to wake up.”
Marcus tilts his head to the side. “She’s asleep? What exactly happened, Katherine? Tell me what you know.”
I start crying harder. “She was…she was unconscious when I found her. So pale and clammy. And she had…a rubber strap around her arm. She was shooting up and I think she took too much, Marcus. She was hardly breathing.”
He rockets out of his chair. “You’re wrong. I need to see the doctor. Why the fuck is the doctor not here right now?”
“I don’t know,” I reply as I blow my nose again.
“Well, I’m going to find out.” Marcus spins on his heels and opens the door. Inside the threshold is a fifty-something man with salt and pepper hair and a white coat.
“Cybil Kennedy’s family?” the man asks.
“I’m her husband,” Marcus says as he thumps his chest. “And she’s her daughter. Are you her doctor? When can I see my wife?”
“Mr. Kennedy—” the doctor begins.
“Moore,” Marcus corrects. “We just got married; she hasn’t changed her name yet.”
The doctor gulps. “Mr. Moore, please have a seat so we can talk about your wife.”
“I don’t want to have a fucking seat!” he shouts. “I want to see my damn wife!”
I’m frozen watching Marcus in such a state of panic. If I had any doubts about his feelings before, I don’t now. This is clearly a man worried about the woman he loves.
The doctor adjusts his round-rimmed glasses. “Mr. Moore. I will explain everything. Please, take a seat.”
Marcus sits with a huff. “Well, go ahead, Doc.”
The doctor closes the door and pulls up a chair in front of us. “My name is Ben Miller. I was the attending physician when your wife arrived by ambulance.” He looks at me. “I understand you’re the one who found her?”
I nod. “How is she? Is she awake now?”
“When the paramedics arrived on-site, your mother was in severe respiratory depression.”
“Speak English, Doc,” Marcus barks.
Dr. Miller straightens his spine. “Heroin affects the Central Nervous System. That’s the part of your brain that controls the ability to breathe and keeps the heart beating. She wasn’t getting enough oxygen. That’s why she passed out.”
“But you fixed her, right?” I ask. “That’s what you do; fix people.” When the doctor remains silent I add, “Right?”
Dr. Miller lowers his voice a notch. “I’m sorry, but your mother passed away en route to the hospital. There was nothing we could do. She had the hallmark signs of an acute heroin overdose. We’ll know for certain when the results of the toxicity workup come in.”
My chest seizes. I’m in such a state of shock that I can’t make out what Marcus is saying to Dr. Miller. I can hear my heart beating in my ears. It feels like I’m underwater, fighting against a strong current. I don’t realize that I’m holding my breath until I start feeling faint. I take a giant gulp of air and clutch my chest as a sharp pain jolts me out of my daze.
“Can I see her?” My voice is so quiet I’m not sure if anyone heard me. I take a fortifying breath and try again. “I’d like to see her. Can I see her?”
Dr. Miller and Marcus exchange glances. Marcus looks as incredulous as I feel. I don’t think either of us will believe she’s gone until we see it for ourselves.
“Of course,” Dr. Miller replies. “You can go in together if you’d like. We have her in a private room.”
I glance at Marcus and he seems to read my mind. “It’s okay, Katherine. Go in by yourself. I’ll wait.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Dr. Miller stands and opens the door. “Mr. Moore, I’ll send a nurse over to bring you back when she’s done.” His eyes meet mine. “Miss Kennedy, I’ll take you there now.”
I stare at the back of his white coat as we wander down one long hall, then another. Each room we pass is closed off by glass doors with curtains added to give their patients privacy. There seems to be a never-ending stretch of linoleum as we round another corner. Dr. Miller stops at the first door and slides it open.
“Take as much time as you need,” he says as he opens the curtain and steps aside so I can enter.
The room is sparse—a small sink on one side and a few machines on the other. I can’t take my eyes off the gurney sitting in the middle. A tall, svelte body is clearly outlined under the white sheet that covers it.
“Would you like the lights on?” Dr. Miller asks.
I hadn’t realized they were off until that moment. “Um…no, that’s okay. There’s enough light from the hall.” I timidly step further into the room.
He nods. “Very well. Let us know if you need anything.”
Dr. Miller closes the curtain and steps out. I can’t seem to look away from her body lying in front of me. Her face is covered so I can’t see anything besides her shape. The logical part of my brain tells me that my mom is under there. The illogical part tells me that she’s not. If I don’t see her face or feel her chilled skin, then she’d still be alive. Once I pull down those covers, there’s no going back; I’m sealing my fate of being without her forever. I’m not sure if I’m ready to face that.
I take another two steps and carefully pinch the top of the sheet with my fingers. I squeeze my eyes shut as I lower it just enough to uncover her face. I take several deep breaths before opening them and seeing her pale features.
“Mom,” I croak.
God, she’s so beautiful, even in death. It almost seems like she’s sleeping...like she’s going to wake up at any moment and tell me this was all a horrible joke. I know that’s not going to happen though because I can sense that something’s not right. Never mind the fact that her body remains completely still; it’s more that I can no longer feel her presence. Marcus was right when he said she had a spunk like no other. S
he knew how to command attention when she walked into a room. I know we’ve had our problems but I relied on that dysfunction. It was the one constant in my life. And as ridiculous as it may be, a small part of me had always hoped that she would clean up one day and actually want to be my mom. Not just Cybil—the woman who gave birth to me. One day, we would actually have a normal mother-daughter bond.
As I press my hand to the top of her head and smooth out her bleached hair, that hope dies. The heat has already left her body. The spark that was always inside of her is no longer there. My fingertips press against her scalp, feeling her solid form, but at the same time, it’s hollow. Her body may be here physically, but this is no longer Cybil Kennedy. Cybil Kennedy has moved on to another place. I’m not a religious person, but I hope that wherever she is, she’s finally at peace. She hid it well, but I always knew she was slowly dying on the inside. Her addiction constantly ate away at her. She fought her demons daily. I try finding solace in the fact that she no longer has to suffer.
“I’m so sorry,” I sob. “I’m so sorry you couldn’t fight hard enough. That you no longer have a chance. I didn’t mean it when I said I wanted you gone. I never wanted you gone; I just wanted you to be better. I wanted you to be my mom. Why couldn’t you just be my mom?”
I fall to my knees and cry as I clutch her arm over the sheet. I’m not sure how long I’m there before a nurse walks in.
“Is there anything I can get you, hun?”
I wipe my face on my sleeve. “Um…no, thank you. I think I’m done.” I stand up and look at the bed one more time. “I love you, Mom.” I bend over to kiss her forehead before pulling the sheet up again.
The nurse gives me a sad nod and steps aside so I can exit. Marcus is waiting outside the door.
“Katherine, are you okay?” he asks.
“I will be. You can go in now; I’m done.”
He quickly glances into the room then back to me. “The hospital needs to know what to do with her…remains. Do you have a preference?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. I don’t think she’d want a burial.”
“Neither do I,” he says. “Okay…I’ll tell them we’d like cremation. We can decide what to do after that. Do you need a ride home? I should only be a few minutes.”