I opened my eyes when the woman stopped speaking, and forced myself to look at my mother. Now in her fifties, with slight wrinkles where they should be, but with a posture of someone who deserved confidence, she stood from her seat.
"I've been incarcerated for twenty years, Miss Tanger," she began, her voice raspier than I remembered. "And in that time, I got sober. I've been sober for fifteen years. I got my Bachelor's Degree then a Master's Degree in psychology, and I've acted as a peer worker for the past five years. What I did to my daughter…" She paused, appearing to swallow her words for a moment. "Was deplorable and evil. Addiction is evil. It takes over the mind and body, and doesn't leave room for the heart. I'm not blaming my acts on my addiction. I did this. I did that to her. It was all me and I know I hurt my daughter."
Rage boiled my blood when she called me her daughter, replacing the panic with something more primal. I wanted to tear her apart, scream in her face, and make her feel pain, hurt, and betrayal the way I had. I wanted to destroy her, eviscerate her, and I choked on a sob when I imagined myself tearing her hair out of its perfect ponytail.
"And how does you returning to society benefit the community? Because all I've heard is how prison has benefited you," said Miss Tanger, leaning on her elbows as she stared down my mother. "Your child, who you haven't seen in twenty years, from my understanding, is standing ten feet away from you and you haven't fallen to your knees and begged for her forgiveness. I don't see remorse here, Ms. Bryant. I see a selfish woman trying to sell her attributes to convince us to allow her to walk out of here and live her life. What about her?" The woman pointed at me. "What about her suffering?"
"I—" My mother stammered, gulping as she turned to look at me. "I wish I could take it all back," she said, tears streaming her cheeks. "I am selfish. I was. I'm sorry Rose Leigh. Mama's sorry." The way she said my name, in the way that I despised, sounded like Rosalie. I choked on my anger, and I made to clench my fists, but ended up squeezing Sam and Rebecca.
"You are not my mother," I spat, choking on it afterward as a sob caught me.
Someone banged a gavel or something, but Miss Tanger held up her hand. "Let her talk."
"You never cared about me or anyone. You weren't using heroin when you dumped me off at Grandma's for weeks or left me alone locked in the house when I was four. That lady is right. You're selfish. You'll do whatever you want in service of yourself only." The words poured from me in a tsunami I couldn't contain. Every word I ever wanted to say to her, to the woman who looked like me, fell from my lips. "Society doesn't need your flagrant, personality-disordered existence infesting its streets, Carly. Addiction isn't evil. You are evil."
"Rose Leigh, I—" She folded her hands against her chest as she cried.
"Don't call me that!" My voice echoed in the room as I let go of Sam and Rebecca. "Don't say my name. Don't look at me. You don't deserve to. You don't deserve anything except to rot inside these cold walls until you're old and foul and ripe for burial. You deserve nothing for what you did to me. You are not my mother," I said, on the rattling exhale that stole my breath.
The entire room fell silent, save for her cries.
I turned to see Rebecca's tear-stained face, and she offered me the softest smile.
"You are," I told her, choking on a sob now as every inch of me trembled with exhaustion. She caught me in a hug and I grabbed on to her, losing myself to a wave of tears that I hadn't let myself experience in front of her before. She squeezed me, and pulled Sam into the hug after. The two of them held me between them for a moment, before Rebecca urged us toward the back of the room.
No one stopped us and no voices followed. Rebecca's hold on me never faltered and we cried together in the hallway. Sam's tears weren't a beat behind as I held on to her with one hand and Rebecca with the other. Rebecca cupped my face, lost for words as tears swam in her deep brown eyes.
"Let's go home, sweet girl," she whispered and I nodded, closing my eyes when she kissed my forehead.
***
I woke up to Sam kneeling beside my bed while stroking my hair from my face. At Rebecca's house in my old bedroom, Sam appeared out of place amongst the childish white furniture, stuffed animals, and bookcases with hundreds of books. Over her shoulder, my worn out copies of Anne Of Green Gables took up space beside the Harry Potter series and Oliver Twist. I kept my books about orphans tucked close together. They all seemed like they needed each other.
"Hi, my sweet," crooned Sam, her expression drawn with fatigue.
"Hi, honey." I kissed her wrist and she smiled. "Can't sleep?"
She shook her head and I lifted the blankets for her to climb back in. "I'm worried about you," she said as I tucked the blankets around her. Her statement brought me pause as she'd never been so clear about her feelings before.
"I'm okay," I told her. "A little hungry though."
"Rebecca is really worried about you," she confessed while doting on me and tucking my hair behind my ear.
"Is she making you feel like you should be more worried than usual?" I asked and she nodded right away. "Rebecca's seen me at my worst, Sam. She's expecting that."
"What does your worst look like?"
"Anxious to a point where I can't move or speak much. She'd sit with me on the sofa for hours while I shook or cried and she'd read to me until I felt better," I told her, glancing over her shoulder again at the bookshelf. "When I started taking medication, that stopped happening as much. A few times a year, then not at all. But it was often before that. She's worried that I can't handle things without meds."
"Considering the situation the day brought, I have to admit I was expecting something like that, too." She cupped my cheek and stroked my lips with her thumb. "Are you really okay?"
I nodded, leaning into her touch. "I am."
Sam examined my expression, her eyes darting all over as if trying to scan for truth. "You had a nightmare before."
"I have them often regardless of today."
"Rosie, you saw the person who caused you so much hurt for the first time since you were a child. That's a big deal."
"It is, but I felt sort of prepared. Even though I shouted," I told her, leaning my head on her shoulder like usual. "Anita and I have played that scene over and over when we talk about my mother. Things I would say or do."
"Did any of it play out that way?"
I nodded, sniffling a little as I hugged her. "Most of it. I didn't imagine myself shouting though or being so upset. I imagined a more demure delivery." I smirked and she chuckled.
"It was how it should be, Rosie. And filled with your emotions and pain." She kissed the end of my nose.
I smiled under her affection and rubbed soft circles around her belly. "Thank you for being with me. Then and now."
"Right back at you." She pressed her lips to my forehead and we quieted for a moment. "I understand now why you don't like being called Rose."
"I hate how she says my name."
"Understandably."
Sam's phone buzzed on the nightstand and we both jumped. Her fingers dug into my hip before she reached for it. A frown tugged the corners of her mouth when the name Lydia Perez appeared on the screen.
"Who's that?" I asked.
"Work." She hovered her thumb over the end call button but I stopped her.
"They'll just call back. Answer it."
She held my gaze for a moment before answering. "What do you need, Lydia?" I watched Sam's open and emotional expression transition back to her stoic baseline. She listened to whatever the woman said then responded, "Convert to G.A." She paused. "You know how. I'm not coming in."
The woman on the other line's volume increased and I heard her say, "We have respiratory acidosis with a P.H. less than seven and taquipnea."
"Hypoxemia?"
"Yes, Doctor Flynn."
"Have you tried high flow oxygenation and non-invasive ventilation?"
"Yes. No improvement."
"Convert to G.A., Perez." Sam drop
ped her head back on the pillow after spending a few seconds speaking an alien language. "Is the patient panicking?"
"Yes."
"Convert."
"Doctor Flynn, I—"
"I'm not coming in, Perez."
"But...but you're the Attending. I—"
Sam closed her eyes, and squeezed her forehead with the hand that didn't hold the phone. "Where's Meridan?"
"In on another case."
Silence fell between them and I gave Sam's shoulder a squeeze. She opened her eyes, a look of utter despair deadening her expression. "Go," I whispered. "You need to go."
"I don't want to leave you," she mouthed, her lips moving in firm declaration despite the lack of sound.
"Someone needs help," I said and her lips pressed to thin lines.
"Doctor Flynn?" called the woman on the phone.
"Fine, Perez. If I walk into a goddamn mess, it's your head on the block," Sam spat, her entire body tensing before we sat up together. She hung up the phone and tossed it on the nightstand with a clatter. I placed my hand on her back and she started before leaning her elbows on her knees. "I don't want to leave you."
"I know." I leaned my chin on her shoulder and it made her smile. "I'll be sad if something happens to another person because we were too emotionally drained to help them. Go help then come back to me."
"Promise to stay with Rebecca?" She held her hand to me and I took it.
"I promise," I declared, giving her hand a squeeze.
We broke apart so Sam could pull on her shoes, and I watched as she fixed her hair into a tight ponytail. She gazed at me in the mirror and I smiled at the way her eyes twinkled in the early morning daylight peeking through the window.
I walked her to the door, in the gentle hurry that neither of us enjoyed, and she turned to kiss me. When we parted, she placed her index finger against my lips as if stopping me from confessing the feelings preparing to seep from them. She warred with herself, evident in her flickering gaze. I nodded and she pulled me into a hug.
"I'll text you when I'm on my way back," she said, rubbing my back in firm circles.
"Okay. Be safe."
She nodded as we parted ways. I waited until she drove off before turning back inside. I drew in a deep breath, and once alone with myself, it took twenty seconds before my resolve crumbled. I stood there, in the hall, listening to myself shout at my mother and her repeating my name over and over. Memories flooded me and I let them, because it was easier and because if I fought them, it made everything worse.
I thought about my grandmother, and the way her cooking always made the house feel cozy and warm. When I told Rebecca how we used to make apple pies together in the Fall, Rebecca bought all the ingredients and I made them with her in honor of my grandmother. At sixteen, I couldn't remember a happier moment. My thoughts wandered back in time, bouncing all over the place until the faint physical memories rounded off with an aching belly. I let out a soft sob, and the sound of my own voice grounded me back to reality.
The whole house filled with light now that morning had set in, and fear stabbed me in the chest when I noticed how much time must've passed. Rebecca rushed out of the kitchen, her eyes wide with surprise when she found me in the foyer by the front door.
"Rosie?" She said my name on bated breath. "What's going on?" She rushed me, already showered and dressed in her work clothes, and grabbed me in a hug.
"Wh-what time is it?" I asked while hugging her and sniffling. My whole body trembled, mainly from the cold of the hallway.
"About seven-thirty, sweetie. You're freezing." Rebecca urged me into the living room and wrapped a blanket around my shoulders while I stood there gazing down at the way my fluffy socks met the carpet.
"Sam left at six for work."
Rebecca's brow furrowed, and she tilted her head.
"I think I lost some time." I covered my face with my hands and choked on a sob. She pulled me down to the sofa with her, and right away, I fell into my position of old. I sat with my knees tucked against her, facing the back of the sofa while she hugged me and kissed my cheek.
"It's okay, sweetie. It's been difficult lately," crooned Rebecca, stroking my back in soothing circles. "You're all right, Rosie."
"I'm going to have a panic attack." I nearly choked when I said it, my fingers tearing at the fabric of my sweater.
"Let's sing together, okay?" Rebecca hummed in my ear before she started singing Lavender's Blue. I nodded and listened to her when she moved to lyrics.
Rebecca's sweet voice settled me quickly and when she poked my side, it brought a smile to my lips. She held my hand, squeezing it firmly when the song ended.
I leaned back, and she smooched the back of my hand. "Play it for me?" She nodded to the violin still in its place by the piano.
"Okay." I swiped at my eyes and sniffled. She rose to grab it and toted it back over. I sat up straighter, pushing the blanket from my shoulders to accept the instrument.
And just like that, we tumbled back into old routines. I played the pitchy children's song on the violin once through, then a second time accompanied by Rebecca's singing.
In less than half an hour, she had me smiling again. After a quick round of Belle from Beauty and The Beast, I sat down beside Rebecca on the sofa again and she chuckled.
"You always loved that movie," she said, grinning at me. "And were so happy when we saw it on stage."
"I always felt like Belle. Like I stood out and was different. It's kind of still true." I lay the violin across my lap and gave the body of it a fond stroke.
"The best kind of different, sweetheart." She gave my arm a pat. "Feel better?"
"Yeah. Thanks." I drew my gaze from the instrument to meet hers. "Was it okay that I called you my mother?"
"Yes, my sweet girl." She beamed at me and cupped my face in her hands. "I'm honored to be your mother. Every single day you make me proud."
"Love you," I told her, blinking away the tears that tumbled for a different reason.
"I love you, too." She kissed my forehead and I smiled. "Let's get something to eat and book an appointment with Anita. Okay?"
For once, I agreed to her encouragement of support. Feeling anxious or having a random panic attack was one thing, losing time to memories again was another. It hadn't happened in a few years and I didn't want to start down that path.
Rebecca drove me home on her way to work, and I called out. I sent Sam a text to let her know I was going home, but she didn't answer right away. That meant she was in surgery or with a patient.
I found my apartment in perfect condition, with nothing out of place. Alex stocked the fridge and cupboards with the usual fare. In my bedroom, with fresh linens and its standard tidied presentation, I flopped down on the bed and let out a sigh. I sent Alex a message to ask where she was and let my phone fall at my hip.
Laundry. Where R U?
Upstairs.
BRT.
I covered my face and allowed myself to sink into the comfort of home. It wrapped around me as it always did. Cozy between my cases of books and knick-knacks, hanging plants in the frosted window that overlooked the alley, and the duvet that Rebecca's mother made me when I first arrived in their home. Safety and comfort found me here, and I embraced it while hugging a pillow to my chest.
My phone rang and I swiped it the minute I saw Sam's name appear. "Hi."
"Hi, my sweet. You're home?"
"I am."
"By yourself?"
"Rebecca had to go to work. Alex is somewhere."
"Are you okay?"
"Just tired. I stayed home today. I have to see Anita tomorrow."
"I'll take you. I should be done here in about an hour, baby. You sound sad."
"I am. Can you come here after work?" I gulped down the tears that threatened to fall again.
"I wouldn't be anywhere else. Have you eaten today?"
"A little cereal."
"Okay. I'll bring something. Rest, baby. Is Alex home?"
<
br /> "She's downstairs, but will come up soon."
"All right." Sam sounded just as tired as I felt. "Is there anything else you need, Rosie?"
"No." I sniffled and draped my arm over my face. "Just you."
"You already have me. See you soon, baby."
"Okay." A small smile tugged the corner of my mouth at the same time the bed sank by my knees. "Bye, Sam."
"Bye, baby."
We hung up and I removed my arm to see Alex crawling up the bed. She flopped down and grabbed me into a rough hug. We curled up on the bed together in a pseudo-spoon position and I let out a sigh.
"We used to call this the orphan cuddle, remember?" she said, resting her chin on my shoulder.
"Yeah. On that tiny bed in the group home surrounded by chaos."
"We had each other. Still do."
I hugged her arms and let myself relax into the comfort of her familiarity. "Sisters."
"Sister orphans." She snickered in my ear and it made me smile.
"Rebecca loves us both. We have her and her family," I said, and she nodded.
"She's my hero."
"Mine, too."
We grew quiet for a moment before she said, "You're falling asleep."
I nodded and she gave me a squeeze.
"Want me to stay?"
Again, I nodded and she settled in the bed behind me before pulling the throw blanket over us.
"Okay."
"Thank you," I whispered and she scooted into her usual position. Whenever we shared a bed, we always slept back to back. Ready, waiting, yet protective, too. Sometimes it was like we never left the group home at all.
***
"Honey," Sam called to me. "Rosie."
I shifted my weight in the passenger seat and the image of her smiling in the morning sunlight brought a rush of delight to my center. "I passed out."
"Sure did. We're almost to your doctor's office," she said, then pointed to the console between us. "While you were out, I snagged us some coffee and donuts."
"Babe." I perked up and helped myself to a frosted one. "You're the best."
Nocere Page 27