Chapter 54 Rosalie
Chapter 54
Rosalie
Cassidy would be royally pissed if she saw herself in a mirror. Her hair, what’s left of it, is matted against her scalp. They’ve shaved her head. Oh my. Her mother would not be very happy about that, and her skin is makeup-free. She looks even thinner than usual, which is alarming, and she has a large purple bruise centered above her eye. Rosalie tries to ignore the apparatus helping her breathe.
Moving in for a closer look, she spots a black hair jutting from her mother’s chin. Oh dear. This would ruin her. She makes a note to ask the nurse for scissors. Cassidy had made Rosalie promise to cut unruly hairs that would sprout along her mother’s chin when she got old. “Always cut. Never tweeze,” she’d said. “Tweezing makes them grow back quicker and coarser.” Rosalie wants to yank it out, but she draws back.
Her mother made it out of surgery, but she’s unresponsive, unconscious, un-everything. Dr. Benck had met her and Jean-Paul in the hallway after the surgery and tried several times to explain, but nothing computed. “There’s a bruise on your mother’s brain,” she finally said. “The bruise has blood collected around it, which is pressing on the brain. We inserted a shunt, a medical device, to relieve the pressure. While that’s in place, we have a ventilator breathing for her.”
Rosalie maintained a modicum of calm by quietly counting. “Are you saying ... without it ... she’ll die?”
Dr. Benck looked to Jean-Paul. “We’re doing everything to keep your mother alive.”
Jean-Paul had slipped a hand on Rosalie’s shoulder. She liked that he didn’t say things like, “It’s going to be okay,” because none of them knew. She found it sincere.
“There’s not much to do here,” Dr. Benck had said. “Except wait.”
Rosalie mustered the courage to ask, “How long?”
“We don’t know. But your mom’s a fighter.”
Damn right, she was a fighter. All the times she fought her when Rosalie tried to wake her up to drive her to school or tried to get her to cover up her boobs in public.
“Can I sit with her a few minutes?” she asked.
“Of course. Take your time.”
Which is why she’s now seated beside her mother, angling to rip a hair from her chin while Jean-Paul sits in the waiting room.
“Mom,” she finally says, the words sounding strange on her lips. “You need to fight.” She’s thinking about all the times Cassidy left her alone, left her to take care of herself. This is worse. “I know our relationship isn’t ideal. But I need you to come back.” She feels the tears pressing against her eyes. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
She waits for her mom to answer, to say something, to signal that Rosalie should keep her news to herself, but Cassidy says nothing.
She knows what she needs to do.
She knows if Cassidy dies, it will matter.
So she proceeds to explain about Diane Rodriguez ... how she stumbled across the sites—Ancestry.com, 23andMe. “Sure, there were age restrictions and certain requirements, but I found a way,” she says, and she leans in closer, “even though I may land in a federal prison for falsifying information. But I found him: your one-night stand. The site didn’t provide much information, but I got his name. And I googled him. And I think I understand why you liked him ... even for that brief moment. He seems nice. And he’s not ugly.
“The thing is, I’m super curious how you met ... how your paths crossed ... because ... well, I guess I imagined you having a type, and this guy ... well, he’s not it. So maybe that’s why it was a one-night thing.”
She doesn’t tell her that she’s as surprised that he chose her.
She’s interrupted by the nurse who comes in to check Cassidy’s IV and dispense more medication. “I’ll be a few minutes,” she says. She changes the bandages, and Rosalie waits patiently. She’s already waited long enough.