Unfinished Business

by Roxanne Hensley

  Adrian laughed, playfully grabbing his hands from his mock call-off. “I just don’t see how anyone could want to propose after one date.”

  “But you heard him. When you know, you know, right?” He shrugged, a smile tugging at his lips.

  “Do I need to be concerned about our second date?”

  “God, no. I can be a bold man, but even I’m not that bold.” He laced his fingers with hers. “I’d at least wait until our third date.”

  “Good. I know not to take this any further than our next date, then.”

  “You’re already telling me we’ll have a second date?”

  She blushed. “As long as you really called off the proposal this evening.”

  “Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll just drown my sorrows in this glass of wine. Care to join me?”

  Adrian raised her glass. “What are we drinking to?”

  His thumb caressed her palm. “How about to taking this one date at a time?”

  “Now that’s a proposal I can accept.” They both laughed as their glasses clinked.

  Their waiter took their dinner order, and Adrian seized the opportunity to ask Christian a question that had been on her mind since they ran into each other. “Since you know my story, I think it’s only fair you tell me yours. What brought you to group?”

  Christian let go of her hand, leaning back in his chair. “I suppose that’s fair.”

  “If you don’t want to—”

  “No, it’s okay.” He took a deep breath. “I started going to group when my uncle Jim died. He was like a dad to me, since my dad and I never really got along too well. He had a heart attack, and his death hit me hard.”

  “Sorry to hear.”

  “To make matters worse, the woman I was dating at the time, Sarah, confessed to cheating on me on the same day.”

  “Wow, that must have been rough,” she said.

  Christian nodded. “I thought she was the one. I was this close to buying her a ring, and I’m glad I didn’t. It was a lot to process all at once.”

  “I can only imagine.” She reached her hand across the table, placing it on his.

  Christian held her hand in return. “When he died, I was considering an opportunity for the District Attorney, but I couldn’t let everything he built go to waste. I knew I had to take his place at the firm. It was the right thing to do, and I think he’d be proud.”

  “I’m sure he would be.”

  “The group helped me work through it, even though I’m not that vocal and don’t share very often.”

  “Like Gina?”

  He smiled. “You’re too new to crack jokes.” They both chuckled. “What you did for her was very sweet, by the way. Where’d you learn to paint like that?”

  She shrugged. “My father was a painter, so I guess it’s in my blood.”

  “I’d like to see some of your other work sometime.”

  “I’m sure that could be arranged.” She smiled.

  Conversation flowed easily as they finished their glasses of wine with their meals. They caught the remainder of the sunset, and the waiter returned to light a candle in the center of the table and clear their plates.

  “Wow, mood lighting. You’re pulling out all the stops, aren’t you?”

  “Special place for a special lady.” He grinned. “So, I heard from my aunt about your mom. It’s sweet of you to take care of her.”

  “Thanks. We haven’t always had the best relationship, which has made it a bit challenging at times.”

  “You’ve got a shot at making peace with her. Don’t take that for granted.”

  “Yeah, it’s been tough, but every day gets a little easier. Surprisingly, we’re making small strides, which makes it all worth it.”

  Christian picked up his wine glass. “I’d like to propose another toast. To you, Adrian. You’re a remarkable woman, and I’m glad we ran into each other again.”

  She blushed. “Cheers.” Her skin prickled with heat from his gaze.

  The waiter arrived with the check, and her heart sank. Christian quickly slid a credit card into the fold. “I’m not ready for the evening to end. Are you?” he asked. Adrian shook her head. “Would you be up for a walk on the beach?”

  “I’d love that.” She smiled. They headed toward the beach after paying the bill, leaving their shoes on the side of the stairs by the restaurant. He grabbed her hand, their fingers lacing effortlessly, as they walked toward the shore. The night sky twinkled with magic as it enveloped the last remains of the day. Her toes sank into the sand with every step as they plodded toward the shore, her dress billowing in the gentle evening breeze. It was the perfect setup for what was likely to come next, and her heart pounded. Was she ready for it?

  “Christian, let’s stop for a moment.” She reluctantly let go of his hand. The moon glow highlighted the hint of concern on his face. “I’m having a really nice time, but I think I need to take things slow. I’m hoping you’re okay with that.”

  “I’m in no hurry.” He took a step closer to her, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve got the patience of a saint.”

  “Good,” she said, feeling her nerves relax as she looked at him. She didn’t need to figure everything out right then. They were having a good time, and that’s what mattered. Her eyes fell to his perfect smile as she imagined what it would be like to kiss him.

  As if reading her mind, his hand cupped her face, his tenderness melting her resolve. He leaned in, and his lips lightly grazed hers. Her mouth parted instinctively, inviting his tongue to meet hers. Their bodies drew closer together, deepening the kiss. Feeling his body against hers felt so right, so natural.

  He pulled away, breaking the spell. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it.”

  “That wasn’t very saintly.”

  He smiled. “I have the patience of a saint, but I’m definitely no saint.”

  “Good.”

  He pulled her close again. “You’re going to test my patience too, aren’t you?”

  “Of course,” she said, and he laughed. “Although, I’m not very patient either, so we’ll see what happens…” She wrapped her hands around his neck, and their bodies instinctively swayed with the trade winds.

  “I look forward to that.”

  17

  Adrian practically floated to the front door after Christian dropped her off. She replayed the heart-stopping kiss in her head, leaving a permanent smile on her face. The moment she turned the key in the door, reality came crashing down on her. Harold stood hyperventilating over her mother in the living room. “Help! Come quick!”

  Margaret held her throat as she fought for air, her eyes bulged with fear. Her pale skin quickly turned various degrees of crimson, then violet. Adrian saw her mother’s desperation for help, but her legs became pillars of concrete when she tried to move. Beads of sweat formed on her brow and her heart raced toward debilitating panic.

  Finally finding the courage, she ran to her mother. She feared it would be the end and grabbed her mother’s hand. “Call 911!” she barked at Harold, and he ran to the phone.

  “Hang in there, Ma.” Adrian stared into Margaret’s fear-filled eyes, willing her to catch her breath. Adrian felt her mother’s forehead. “She’s burning up. Tell them she has a fever,” she yelled to Harold.

  “They said for her to push a finger into the indent above her upper lip under her nose,” he said. Adrian didn’t give Margaret time to try it herself, immediately holding her finger against the spot with force, watching her mother’s violet hue fade to crimson and then return to her normal color as she took a long, deep breath. She coughed as air filled her lungs. Tears of relief and fear pooled in the corners of her eyes.

  “That worked!” Adrian squeezed Margaret, afraid to let go. Harold informed them an ambulance was on the way. “No protesting,” Adrian said to Margaret, her voice shaky from adrenaline and a sad attempt at authority. “What were you doing anyway?”

  “We were just sitting here watching TV, and I leane
d in to kiss her, and I guess I caught her by surprise. I didn’t mean to hurt her.” He dipped his chin into his chest, shoving his hands in his pockets.

  “Evening with the girls, huh, Ma?” Adrian raised an eyebrow. Margaret averted her gaze. “Well, thank God you were here,” she said to Harold.

  The ambulance arrived and swiftly took Margaret to the hospital. They didn’t like the look of her vitals, her oxygen levels dangerously low. Adrian followed behind them with Harold, who refused to go home before knowing Margaret was going to be okay. Silence hung heavy between them, both lacking the energy for small talk with their mental energy focused on Margaret. What would have happened had Adrian not arrived home when she did? She shook her head, silencing that tiny, nagging voice. She couldn’t give an ounce of energy to the thought, the repercussions too much to bear.

  They rushed Margaret to some tests, and a nurse informed them it would be a few hours before they’d be able to see her. They set up camp in the stale, sterile waiting room. They weren’t alone, sharing the space with a young Hispanic woman cradling a baby and a burly man with a thick gray beard holding his head in his hand. They opted for seats on the left side of the room with a clear view of a small television in the corner. An evangelist’s tirade blared through the small speakers, advising anyone who’d listen to repent and accept the Lord as their Savior. Adrian bargained with the orange-faced buffoon in her head. If I were to follow your advice, would my mother be spared?

  Harold rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes. Within minutes, he was snoring with his mouth wide open. Sleep wouldn’t come as easily for Adrian, the room taut with fear and anxiety. She fidgeted, trying to tune out the sermon on the wall. Suddenly feeling claustrophobic, she decided to get some air. She headed toward her car to retrieve her cigarettes. She remembered her mother’s hands waving across her body like Vanna White’s, predicting the future like an ominous soothsayer. Adrian lit one anyway, taking a long drag. Predictions be damned. She watched her cigarette as the flame encompassed the paper and tobacco, turning it to ash.

  She exhaled, watching the billows of smoke fade into the night. The silence did nothing to drown out the replay of her mother’s fearful eyes as she gasped for air. Her adversarial mind raced with what ifs: What if she hadn’t gotten home in time, what if her mother hadn’t caught her breath? What if it had been the end? They still had so much unfinished business, so many things left to say. They’d still have a chance to settle things, right?

  Tears streamed down her face. She wasn’t ready to lose her mom, and she prayed to the God she knew to be real that it wouldn’t be the end.

  Adrian woke up startled, her phone buzzing in her pocket. She didn’t recognize the number but decided to answer.

  “Come get me.”

  “Mom?” She winced from pain, her muscles tense from sleeping in a bad position.

  “Yes, come get me. Room 502.” She hung up.

  That was a hell of a wakeup call.

  “I’ll be right back,” Adrian said to Harold, who rubbed sleep from his eyes.

  The sun began its ascent, its powerful rays streaking through the windows and causing Adrian to shield her eyes. She searched for an elevator in the never-ending labyrinth of monochromatic sterility, starting to question if she were walking in circles. Why hasn’t anyone thought to color code hospital wings, or have directories on the walls with big red dots showing you are here? She found an elevator that only went to the third floor and passed screaming babies in the maternity wing.

  After passing many mothers in various stages of giving birth, she found an elevator going to the fifth floor. She squeezed into the corner of the elevator, sharing it with a nurse and a bed patient. The patient’s IV drip swayed back and forth hypnotically, causing Adrian to almost miss her floor.

  A number of nurses and hospital staff walked past her as if she were invisible. Clearly, they must be coming off the night shift, a changing of the guard commencing. She zigged, then zagged, finally finding her way to room 502. She peeked in to make sure.

  Seeing her mother lying in the hospital bed made the severity of the situation all the more real. She looked so small, feeble, and defeated. Her pallid skin accentuated the dark circles under her eyes, which were glassy from lack of sleep. Adrian struggled to hide her reaction to seeing her mother look so powerless. This couldn’t be the same woman who raised her, could it?

  “Help me up.” Margaret attempted to lift herself out of the hospital bed, still tethered by monitoring wires.

  “Woah, lie back down.” Adrian rushed to Margaret’s side to stabilize her. “Shouldn’t we wait for a doctor or something?” She looked around for someone to acknowledge them. Nurses rushed down the hallway, but none of them paid any attention to them.

  “No, I’m done waiting. I’m ready to go.” Margaret fiddled with her wire captors.

  “Has a doctor seen you yet?”

  “He’s not going to tell me anything I don’t already know. I have cancer, I’m dying, and staying here any longer isn’t going to change that. I could die waiting at this point, so let’s go.” She yanked on some of the wires herself, creating a tangled mess.

  Adrian acquiesced, assisting in setting her mother free. She knew better than anyone how stubborn Margaret could be, and she’d made up her mind. No use trying to talk her out of it. She untangled the wires, setting them aside one by one, and unhooked the cannula from her mother’s nose before helping her out of bed. “Let me get you a wheelchair.”

  “I’m not an invalid.” Margaret shuffled toward the doorway. Adrian held out a hand to help her and she waved it off. “Grab my clothes.” She motioned to a stack of clothes perched on a chair.

  Adrian looked at her mother’s gown, gaping in the back. “Don’t you want to change first?”

  Margaret nodded, and Adrian helped her change back into her street clothes. Margaret combed her fingers through her hair in an attempt to look presentable.

  They headed toward the elevator. Adrian kept looking over her shoulder, trying to find someone to at least apologize to. On some level, she felt guilty, like she was busting a criminal out of jail. With no acknowledgment from any passers-by, she wondered if they’d become invisible. Had they somehow slipped through the cracks?

  They took the elevator down to the main level, having somehow missed the labyrinth. As the doors opened, Adrian touched her mother’s arm. “Are you sure we shouldn’t wait for the doctor?”

  “I’m done waiting. I’m tired, and I’m ready to go.” Margaret shook her arm loose, her face brightening when Harold greeted her. He held out his arm for her to use as a crutch. He leaned over and gently kissed her head as they walked toward the exit.

  Adrian paused, feeling like she should at least tell someone they were leaving. It had to be the most bizarre hospital visit she’d ever encountered.

  “Adrian, go get the car.”

  She shrugged, following them out the sliding doors to drive them home.

  Adrian parked the car in the driveway of her mother’s house. She walked around to help her out of the passenger seat, Harold following suit. Margaret waved both of them off, insisting on doing it herself.

  “Harold, I think she needs to rest, so you should go home.”

  As he opened his mouth to protest, Margaret cut him off. “I’ll call you later, okay darling?” She kissed him on the cheek. For someone who’d just escaped a hospital, she still oozed confidence and femininity.

  Adrian let her walk ahead, ready to catch her if she needed help. “You don’t need to hover,” Margaret said. When they crossed the threshold, she shuffled toward her usual chair in the living room.

  “Don’t you think you should lie down?”

  She paused, then nodded, continuing her shuffle toward her bedroom door.

  “Let me help you.” Adrian held out her hand.

  “I can do it myself.”

  Adrian hung back for a beat to fill a glass of water and retrieve Margaret’s meds, letting he
r mother make her way into her room. A shoulder smacking into the door frame didn’t faze her, but it made Adrian cringe. Margaret sat on the edge of the bed, and Adrian helped her get under the covers. She didn’t even bother changing out of her clothes first.

  Adrian handed her the pills and the water. She looked around her room, realizing it was the first time she’d been allowed into her mother’s room. Margaret seemed to shrink in her queen-sized bed, the pale blue blankets enveloping her in a cocoon with ruffled pillow shams cradling her head. A picture of her and George sat next to a white lamp on her bedside table, and a mirror perched on top of a dresser on the opposite wall. She had a couple of pictures of her and the girls stuck in the mirror frame, and a maple jewelry box rested on top of a white doily covering the dresser. Adrian had no idea her mother was such a…girl.

  As Margaret gulped water, something else caught Adrian’s attention near the closet door. It looked like a small oxygen tank with a cannula attached, its long tube full of kinks after being shoved carelessly behind the pocket door. Adrian walked toward the closet, confirming her suspicion.

  “Don’t touch that!”

  “Ma, what is this?” She pulled out part of the tube. Was she hiding her oxygen tank this whole time?

  “It’s nothing,” she said, avoiding eye contact.

  “Are you supposed to be wearing this?” Adrian felt nauseous with rage. What else was her mother hiding?

  Margaret said nothing, staring at her daughter blankly.

  “Answer me.”

  “No.” She squirmed.

  “You’re lying.” Adrian waited for her to come clean. The cat was out of the bag. But why wouldn’t she wear it if she needed it? Adrian clenched her jaw. After all she’d done to help Margaret, did she even want to be helped? Was all of it for naught?

  “You can go now.”

  “I’m not leaving until you put this on.” She wheeled the portable tank over to the bedside. She held the cannula up to put it around her mother’s head.