Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
She’s right, isn’t she? While waiting for the elevator to arrive, I force myself to take a deep breath. There’s no way of knowing right now how much Mom will be able to handle. I need to be calm, gentle, even if I feel anything but as the doors open and we step inside.
Shifting my weight back and forth from one foot to the other, I can almost laugh at myself. I’m so nervous. What if she doesn’t remember me? What if she doesn’t know me at all? What if she’s awake but unresponsive? She had woken up only minutes before the doctor called, so there wasn’t much he could tell me about her condition. He probably still won’t have a clue. It will probably take time to get to the heart of the damage that was done.
I have to brace myself again as the doors open, taking a deep breath of disinfected air as we step out. Mom’s team is hanging around outside the door to her room, muttering things to each other, typing things on their tablets. One of them notices Leni and me as we approach and turns our way, meeting us halfway down the hall.
“I need to get in and see her,” I murmur, ready to push him aside if I have to. Dr. Spencer is probably my favorite of all of them. He’s honest, he doesn’t bullshit me, and I appreciate that. I feel like Mom would appreciate it, too.
That doesn’t mean I won’t bodyslam him if he doesn’t get the fuck out of my way.
The overhead light gleams off his bald head when he shakes it. “Just a minute. Let’s touch base before you go in there.”
Leni stays beside me, her grip on my hand tightening. There’s something about the way he said that which doesn’t exactly inspire confidence or hope. My heart drops like a rock, but I force my way through it, stiffening my spine. She needs me to be strong now. Both she and Leni need me to be strong. “Give it to me straight. How is she?”
Offering a faint smile, he claps a hand over my shoulder. “It’s not bad at all. I’m sorry if I made it sound that way. It’s just that some people, in situations like this, expect to find their loved one exactly as they remember them. That’s just not possible when a person has been comatose for as long as your mother has. The fact that she’s woken up at all is… Well, I don’t like to use the word miracle, but it’s close.”
“Okay. I’ll try to be realistic.”
“That’s good to hear. She’s not able to speak yet,” he explains with a sympathetic grimace. “She’ll need a little more time and practice. Even then, she’s going to need extensive speech therapy, not to mention physical therapy. But she has proven she is alert and aware, is able to nod in response to questions, and we could not be happier with what she’s shown us so far.”
“That’s great news.” Leni’s breathless whimper tells me she’s close to tears, and I pull her against my side, holding her close.
She’s right. It is great news.
And Nix should be here, dammit. He’s missing all of this. Why the hell won’t he come back? Maybe one day I’ll be able to understand, but right now I can’t imagine forgiving him for missing this. He’s going to regret it, the asshole.
“Can we go in now?” I ask. When the doctor nods, Leni takes my hand again, walking beside me as we take the last few steps into the room we’ve visited countless times in the last six months.
All this time, I’ve only seen her with her eyes closed, her face slack, lifeless. Now she’s sitting up a little more instead of lying back, her head propped up by a pillow, her eyes wide open as they take in the room around her.
And when they see me, they go wider and watery as tears fill them.
It’s like being punched in the gut, but in the best way. The shock is almost enough to make me sway on my feet, while my mind tries to make sense of what I’m looking at. Like I’m afraid to accept what I see. “Mom,” I whisper, almost laughing when her head bobs just a little, enough that I know she hears me and understands.
And now nothing matters more than being by her side. I cross the room quickly and sink into the chair next to the bed, taking her hand, touching my forehead to the back of it. After everything I’ve done and all the sins I’ve committed, I have no right to thank God for anything, but that’s what I do. Silently, in my heart, even though I doubt there’s any entity that will actually understand. Thank you. Thank you so much.