Connie’s mug landed on the table with a soft thud, splashing hot tea over the side and onto her hand.
“You have, haven’t you?”
“I’ve heard of a lot of drugs in my day.” Her mom wiped her hand on her shirt. Her voice had changed. The motherly warmth from just a few minutes ago frosted over into sharp edges.
“Over the past few weeks, I’ve had visions, out in the field when we’re chasing storms.”
“Elaina, I’ve told you, I don’t want to talk about you out there in the storms. It worries me.” Connie pushed herself from the table and reached for the cupboard beside the sink. Bottles of medicine kept company with spices and her mother rummaged through them all until she found the one she was looking for. “Can we talk about this later? My head is splitting.” This time her mom made several attempts at flipping the cap off before succeeding.
“No.” As much as Elaina wanted to give in to her mom, half the Band-Aid was peeled off. She couldn’t put it back on. “We’re going to talk about this now.”
Connie slammed the open bottle on the counter and white pills rained down, pinging on the counter like hailstones. “Why, Elaina? Why are you doing this?”
“Because I have to know. I see stuff, when I’m out there, in the tornado.”
Her mother flinched, as if struck by her daughter’s words, but it only fueled her anger. Despite Connie’s obvious distress, her own far outweighed anything her mom was experiencing.
“I see a man standing over me, finding me after a storm, except it’s me as a child, during a time I should’ve been here with you.” She paced, as if the argument needed to take up more space than the little corner of the kitchen where she stood. “And then I’m in a hospital, and I’m scared, except I was never in the hospital. Was I? But it feels so real, it’s like watching something through a sheer curtain, it’s there, I can see it, but there’s a haze over it.”
Elaina stopped her pacing and her chest heaved. Wild exhilaration coursed through her veins. Adrenalin, combined with finally getting to say everything built up inside her, made her feel lighter, almost giddy. Laughter threatened to burst from her lungs, but she swallowed it back with a big inhale. “Mom, you’re the only person who can help clear the haze.” Her voice was softer, gentler now. “That’s why I’m doing this.”
Connie was a statue in front of her. The web of blue veins under her vellum skin seemed more noticeable, as if her mother were made of parchment.
Then she saw it. The corner of her mom’s left eye drooped. With it, her cheek sagged, and the left side of her mouth turned down, like a sad-faced clown.
The parchment withered. Before her eyes, Connie was melting.
Her mother’s lips moved, as if trying to grasp the words on her tongue. “You were so tiny. So scared. Forgetting was the only way—” Connie swayed and reached for the counter, but only her right hand made purchase, her left arm jerked up only slightly before falling back at her side.
“Mom!” Elaina braced herself under her mother’s left side, fighting against her full weight to keep them upright. “What’s happening? Tell me what to do.”
Her mom’s head lolled back, her eyes searching for something on the ceiling. Her tongue moved back and forth, as if trying to shape words, only to have them slide back down her throat.
Her mother’s weight grew heavier, and Elaina’s own knees loosened, too. A fast, heavy pulse thumped in the kitchen, maybe her own, maybe her mom’s.
They both went down.
The sharp corner of the cabinet cut into her back as she braced her mom, clinging to her, doing whatever it took to absorb the impact of the fall. Pain shot up from her tailbone when they landed. She cradled her mom against her chest, rocking her, whispering apologies.
She’d never lived inside her mother’s body, but when she was little, she’d tried to make her own heart beat at the same strong rhythm of her mother’s.
Now, Elaina hoped the beat of her own heart could carry her mother just a little further.
24
The tinkling fountain in the corner was meant to calm nervous families. To call up images of tall grass blowing gently on a warm day next to a bubbling creek. It was intended to break the hushed silence so lurid that ears would ring just to ensure they still worked.
All that thing succeeded in doing was making Elaina squirm against the pressure of her overflowing bladder.
There must be a chapter in an interior design textbook on how to decorate a hospital waiting room. Muted colored chairs, comfortable yet not too cozy. A machine belching out bad coffee.
The TV with chipper talk show hosts, the audience on a hushed laugh track. A piece of thought-provoking, yet non-offensive art.
And, the damned fountain.
But she couldn’t leave. Not even for a bathroom break.
The doctor had promised he’d be out with an update as soon as possible. After four hours, soon had to be getting close. And if he came out while she was gone, who would he update?
There was no one else. They only had each other.
Elaina leaned her head back on the chair and let another round of tears pool. It would be great if her bladder was tied to her tear ducts, and she could just cry it out.
Grit still coated her face and neck from when the medical helicopter had taken off, leaving her alone to watch the diminishing vessel carrying her mom.
Once she’d realized her mom’s heart still beat and her lungs filled with air, everything had laser-focused clarity.
Her cell phone was close at hand in her back pocket. She’d told the 9-1-1 operator her mother likely had a stroke, and they quickly dispatched transport to take her Oklahoma City. No matter how much she begged, there’d been no room for her in the helicopter. Connie had looked alien, as they rolled her past Elaina; pale, listless, shrunken.
Why did she have to do it? It could’ve waited. She could tell her mom was sick, but she chose to push it. Her selfish drive to understand what was behind the visions had blinded her to the fact that her mom was ill.
Connie was lying in a hospital because of Elaina, and for all she knew; her mother could have exhaled her last breath, forever having the angry accusations as the final words to penetrate her brain.
She balled up a fist and pounded her thigh. Pain rattled her bone.
Good. I need to hurt. I need to look as ugly on the outside as I am on the inside.
Elaina switched to the other thigh, beating it with the same ferocity.
The whoosh of an opening door jolted her upright.
Heath paused before catching her gaze and running toward her.
She attempted to stand, but when her boots hit the floor the pain of a thousand needles flared through her feet.
“I’m so sorry.” Her partner pulled her into a tight hug, holding her up long enough for the stinging to subside. “Can I do anything?”
She inhaled her best friend’s scent, a musky shampoo with his cinnamon gum topped off with the lightest touch of Chloe’s perfume, as if the tiniest notes of it clung to him after her hug and kiss goodbye that morning.
“Nim?” She’d had nearly forgotten about her other best friend.
He was scared away by the helicopter.
It was only when she’d looked up in her rearview mirror, and saw him sprinting after her truck that she remembered he’d been with her. That was the second layer of guilt, the thought of accidentally abandoning her dog.
“I already asked Chloe to pick him up on her way home.” Heath pulled back and held Elaina at arm’s length, studying her through his thick glasses. “You look like hell. Why don’t you go wash your face? I’ll wait here for the doctor.”
In the bathroom, she accommodated her throbbing bladder and studied her reflection.
On the outside, she looked the mostly the same, but she felt the beginning stages of a metamorphosis bleeding through. Her jade green eyes were cushioned in purple pillows. Long wavy hair was tangled in a mess that had begun the day as a simple braide
d ponytail.
A fine layer of red Oklahoma dirt covered her olive complexion, with parts washed away by tears.
No one who knew her would see the monster that lurked inside. The ugly beast that had driven her mother to a stroke by asking questions better left unanswered.
She had wanted to know who she was.
Elaina looked away.
The answer stared back at her, but she wasn’t ready for it.
When she returned, Heath stood next to a man in faded aquamarine scrubs. Her friend had one arm crossed, the other covering his chin and lips.
The doctor’s back was to her, so whatever words were leaving his mouth and entering her best friend’s ears was as hidden as his reaction.
When Heath saw her, he dropped his arms and a faint smile brightened his face, as if to coax her to join them.
“There are two things that a trip to the bathroom will cause, the waiter to bring your food and the doctor to come see you.” Elaina tried to stretch her lips into a smile, but the gesture felt as inappropriate as her joke.
“You must be Elaina.”
He was younger than she’d imagined, but his eyes carried the exhaustion of a man who had lived many more years.
“I’m Dr. Parker, I’ve been taking care of your mother since she arrived.”
“She’s okay?” She needed to know if her world was blown off its foundation, or if something still stood, no matter how cracked or warped it may be.
“She’s stable, breathing on her own and her heart’s steady and strong.” The doctor paused, as if giving her time to absorb the good news. “Connie had a substantial stroke, and from the scans, I think she had some smaller ones recently leading up to this, although she likely saw it as just migraines coupled with exhaustion and forgetfulness.”
Her breath hitched and her eyes watered. She should’ve been there earlier, not to confront her mom but to just thank her for the life she’d given her. If she had been there, she would’ve noticed the headaches, the tiredness, and even the absentmindedness. “I should have…” Elaina whispered.
There were too many ‘should haves’ to list.
“Actually, your mom is alive because you were there,” Dr. Parker said, as if reading the guilt written across her face. “We have her in a medically-induced coma, so we can let our medicine do its job. We’ll keep an eye on her, monitor for any changes. The good news is, at this point, I don’t foresee surgery, so she only has to heal from the stroke.”
She nodded, shaking loose the knot in her throat. “Stroke,” she said, repeating the word, even though it’d been uttered more than a few times. “That can be debilitating.” She took another deep breath, building up to ask a more loaded question. “Will she walk, talk?”
“Unfortunately, we won’t know the extent of the damage just yet.” His voice was soft and apologetic. “There’s only so much we see in a scan. Until Connie wakes up we would only be making a guess.” He glanced at the buzzing phone in his hand, tapped a quick reply and slipped it back into his pocket. “Get some rest tonight, we’ll call you if there’s any change.” Dr. Parker retreated with quick, smacking steps down a hall, closed off by heavy pneumatic doors only opened with the magic of a key card.
Her mom was safe, protected from her.
Had Connie muttered final instructions before slipping away into a deep sleep? Had she begged the doctors and nurses to keep her demon daughter away from her?
“Pierce will understand if you want to take a break.” Heath squeezed her shoulder.
Elaina felt hollow under his touch. If he squeezed tighter she might crumble, turn to dust and blow away in the wind.
Without her studies, without her storms, she’d be completely empty inside.
“No,” she said. “I’m going to do this. I have to do this.”
They stood there for several long seconds before Elaina worked up the energy to speak again.
“I think I’m going to go home soon. Do you mind calling Chloe? She doesn’t have to worry about Nimbus.”
His grip on her shoulder tightened before leaving her completely. “Are you sure? We don’t mind taking care of him.”
“Thank you, but I think I need him right now.”
Heath nodded. He pulled her into another tight hug and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Get some rest, and call us if you need anything.”
The trickling fountain drew her to its corner. It was a fairly simple design. Galvanized brass stood between two endplates with large river stones frothing the water at the bottom. Man’s attempt at creating a waterfall, capturing the essence but losing the spontaneity of nature.
Acting on their own, her fingers reached out to interrupt the water’s rivulets. It was cool, the brass backdrop was slick. Water splashed up her arm as Elaina mindlessly traced figure eights.
One loop. She was a traitor for demanding something her mother couldn’t give her.
Another loop. Or could she?
Had Connie been about to tell her everything she needed to know before a weak vessel in her brain had called it quits?
Forgetting.
That was the last word her mother had spoken to her. So was that what the images were? Were they her body’s attempt at remembering?
She plunged her entire right hand under the electric waterfall, splashing water on her shirt and the floor. She couldn’t hover on the surface, seeing what was below but not diving deep to capture it. Her left hand joined the right, disrupting the water even more, driving large currents of water onto her jeans.
Elaina jumped at the sound of the fountain’s motor, whirring and choking like a fish out of water. Only a few drops remained. Most of the water covered the front of her clothes; what wasn’t on her pooled on the floor around her feet.
She’d already gotten wet. Made a mess of everything. There was no other option but to jump right in, dive into her work, finish her dissertation.
No matter how dark the waters and what kind of creatures lurked there, she had to uncover who she truly was.
25
The rising sun burned Elaina’s eyes. It was the first one her mother was not awake for, so she had to catalog every changing hue, how the sun peeked over the eastern horizon, like a shy child making sure it was safe to come out.
The deep blue sky turned into purple. Streaks of orange danced with pinks. One last star winked goodbye before letting the sun have center stage over the empty parking lot.
She had to remember it all so she could tell her mom what she missed when she woke up.
If she wakes up.
Elaina reached into the paper bag next to her and pulled out another chocolate donut. Her legs dangled off the tailgate, swinging so quickly she was afraid her boots would come flying off.
Sugar, guilt, exhaustion, caffeine, adrenalin and determination coursed through her veins.
If the drugs made her forget, there had to be drugs that could make her remember.
A lifetime of tornadoes might never show her what she needed to know. She’d never have to bring it up to her mom ever again. When Connie woke up, it would be as if it never happened.
She could fix this.
Sitting outside Harry’s clinic waiting for him to arrive was the first step to repairing the hole in her soul.
Elaina peered into the bag. There was one donut left and the coffee she’d picked up for him was growing cold. From Chloe, she’d learned Harry was one of the first to arrive, but she probably meant after sunrise.
Just as she reached in for the last donut, headlights swept across the parking lot and a navy blue BMW swung into the parking spot next to her.
“Elaina?” His accented voice had the measured tone of someone trying very hard to act normal. “This is a surprise.”
She jumped off the tailgate and held out his coffee and donut. “I brought you coffee, and donuts. Well, a donut, I ate the rest. And, your coffee might be a bit cold, but if there’s a microwave inside I can warm it up for you.” Elaina looked down at her chocolate
covered fingers. “Oh, sorry, I think I got chocolate all over your cup.” She gasped. “But you’re British, I bet you drink tea. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. I could get you some.” The words were a crutch holding her upright. If she stopped speaking, she’d breakdown right there in the parking lot.
Harry held up his thermos and his eyes scoured her face.
She could see him running through the diagnosis in his head.
Rumpled clothes worn for twenty-four hours. Once-braided hair filled with grit and oil. The muscles around her eyes twitching, begging to close but propped open by too much coffee.
Elaina hoped he’d hear her out before calling for the straitjacket.
Finally, his body relaxed and he exhaled. “Something’s wrong.”
“I need your help.” The words hurt as they squeezed through the lump in her throat.
Harry turned his head. His face was illuminated orange with the rising sun and the muscle in his jaw flexed and loosened. “I had a feeling I’d see you again.” He spoke to the sun. “And not in the way I’d hoped. Come on, let’s go inside where we can talk.”
He gathered his briefcase and led her into the two-story clinic. He deactivated the alarm system, and Elaina studied the lobby.
Indoor trees sat potted in corners next to muted colored chairs with lamps offering illumination instead of harsh, overhead lights. It was warm and cozy, a good place for people to relax before they had to crack open the scabs over their psyches.
“Follow me.” Harry gestured over his shoulder. He flipped on lights as he led her down a narrow hallway.
Closed office doors gave the names of his colleagues.
When she passed Chloe’s, a nervous chill wrecked her body. How would she explain her presence?
In his office, Harry’s movements were precise, automatic. He booted up his computer and clicked on lamps.
Elaina took a deep breath. Mentally, she flowed into a sun salutation, feeling her body reach overhead to welcome the day. She inhaled peace, patience, grace, and tried to exhale anger, guilt, fear but her breath hitched in her throat and she burst into a coughing fit.
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