Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
DOTTIE
A rrie sits beside me while my dad sobs like a drunken fucking mess, but I can’t stop looking at the floor where they performed CPR on her, after dad found her in the toilet hunched over. It’s like there are phantom lines of where her lifeless body had been.
Dad had laughed he’d said, thinking she’d fallen asleep in the toilet, like she had in the past, but when he threw her over his shoulder like the many times before, he freaked out when he realised; she was cold.
After he placed her on the couch, he started screaming.
I’ll never forget the officers’ faces when they locked eyes with me while they took my dad’s statement, the melancholy and pity in them told me everything I’d already known.
She was gone. I didn’t want to hear their apologies for not being able to save her.
I just wanted to see her one last time and tell her I loved her, and I wish I’d spent more time on the phone with her when I called her for her birthday.
“Are you listening to me, Dottie?” my dad slurs, bringing me back to the moment .
“Sorry, dad, I spaced.”
“This is fucking important! She’s lying cold on that damn metal bench in the morgue. We have to put her to rest, baby.”
“I know, dad.”
Arrie squeezes my knee to let me know she’s here for me.
“Well, what are we going to do?”
“You heard the paramedics. There has to be an autopsy performed before they will release her… body…” My throat closes up.
“I thought I heard her, you know?”
“What?”
“I was in the shed after we had a fight. I thought I heard her whisper through the breeze, but I figured I was hearing things.” he hiccups, sculling his drink.
Goosebumps break out over my skin, knowing that he may have heard her calling out but didn’t rush in to check on her because they were fighting, turns the sadness to anger, but it quickly dissipates when I finally look from the floor to him.
He’s a mess, and maybe even in death my mother called for him. Perhaps the whisper in the night he heard, was nothing more than her calling his name for the last time, whispering her sad goodbye to the man she’d loved more than herself.
Fresh tears fall down my cheeks and I wipe them away angrily.
“We need to lay her to rest, Dottie.”
“I know, dad,” I say with a deep sigh.
“I don’t have any money.”
Arrie’s hand tightens on my knee.
“I thought you were getting your insurance money?”
“I am, but it won’t be released until the doctor sends off his findings,” he grumbles, taking another sip of his drink. “There wouldn’t be an issue if you’d just give me my fucking money. My mother should have left it to me. ”
My spine straightens, and I feel Arrie bristle beside me.
“Can we talk about this tomorrow, dad, please?”
I see the exact moment his mood shifts, the bottle coming down hard on the coffee table.
“You want to talk about this tomorrow, while your mother is dead and cold down the street? You insensitive fucking bitch. We gave you everything! You had the best life, and this is the way you repay us? Repay me?!” he yells, and I’m catapulted back to a time when I had no control over my life.
Arrie’s grip keeps me grounded in the moment, and I shake off the dreaded memories trying to resurface. I pat Arrie’s hand and stand tall, straightening my back.
“You’re hurting, dad, but I won’t allow you to talk to me that way.
Mum is dead. It’s not only you who has to deal with her gone; I do too.
So don’t sit there on one of your headless fucking high horses and start preaching to me about a life you clearly have no recollection of. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I turn on my heels, my body shaking with adrenaline and anger, as I make my way to the front door. My father calls out apologies, before they turn into more angry insults, like they always do. I know he’s hurting, but fuck him, I’m hurting, too.
Arrie is puffing behind me, the only signal she is closer than I thought. I burst through the front door, wheezing, my throat closing up as a panic attack starts to take root.
“Breathe, Dottie, just breathe.”
I follow Arrie’s advice, her soothing voice echoing around me. In, out, in, out, I draw the needy breaths trying to stay trapped in my damn throat.
When I finally feel like I can stand upright, I inhale another deep breath before exhaling.
“That’s it. Deep breaths.”
My dad’s voice echoes in the night, clamouring loudly while glass smashes. Squeezing my eyes closed, I try and block out the noise and the memories trying to break through.
“I think it’s time to go.”
Opening my eyes, I look at Arrie’s wet peridot pair and throw my arms around her.
“I don’t deserve you.”
“The fuck you don’t. Now get your ass in the car before I head back inside and slap your dad silly.”
I feel numb, as if I’m acting on autopilot.
Nothing feels real right. The last visit with my mum plays over and over like a broken record, and I desperately try and rack my brain to try and see if I missed anything.
Did she know?
The car door slams, effectively severing the memory. Arrie climbs into the driver’s seat. I turn back and look at the dreary looking house I grew up in, the ghosts cling and hang in the shadows. She’s still here, I can feel her, and it makes me sad that not even in death would she leave him.
I turn away from the house and buckle myself in.
Arrie doesn’t say anything, but I can feel her eyes on me like they’re a branding iron, burning my flesh. After a few seconds, she starts the car, and it rolls forward.
We sit in comfortable silence, until Simple Minds comes on through the radio, belting out “Don’t you forget about me” , and before I know it, I’m a sobbing mess. It was one of my mum’s favourite songs.
“Oh, babe.” Arrie whispers beside me, and I know she’s crying too.
Memories flood through my mind, infecting it like liquor, and I can’t hold back the heart wrenching sobs that overwhelm my body as I think of my mum. She was only fifty-two, taken way too soon, but something tells me it was self-inflicted.
The hotel sign comes into view, sobering me some, and I manage to reign in my choked sobs, because I know I need to check in. A stuttered breath leaves my now cracked lips as Arrie rolls into a parking spot before turning off the car.
“I was going to bring you back to my house, but I thought you would want some time alone.”
I swallow hard, thinking of the one place I would have loved to have gone, but I don’t expect Damon to welcome me back into his arms, or into his life after the way I left him, but if I’m honest, I do have a lot to process.
“I’ll be back early in the morning,” she rushes, “or if you want to come back to mine you can.”
I turn and face Arrie, so fucking grateful she forgave me and is still in my life. Shaking my head, I force a smile and wipe away the lingering tears slipping down my face.
“It’s ok. Some space and time to process will be good. Plus, you have two hot men at home waiting for you.”
My voice comes out hoarse and not sounding like my own. I know the crying is far from over, but I just need to hold out until I am behind closed doors. Then I can fall apart.
I open the door before she can protest, and I hear her do the same.
“I’m coming with you. Just to check you in, and then I’ll leave, ok?”
I nod, because I don’t trust myself to answer her.
Twenty minutes later and after Arrie said her goodbyes, I’m sitting on the bed, cradled with pillows and a notebook and pen in my hand. Ugly sobs wrench from my soul, threatening to tear me asunder, but I breathe through it, allowing myself to feel.
I write a poem I wish I could have shared with her in person. Instead, it’s one I’ll speak at her funeral. The page is blurry; my tears having created a frosted window kind of look through my wet eyes. I swipe at my tears absentmindedly, feeling the headache approaching fast.
“I miss you, mama,” I say to the empty room, jumping when I hear a knock at the door.
My eyes dart to the door, and I wonder who it could be. Standing up, I swallow, hating how dry and rough my throat feels from crying, before moving toward the door.
Wiping my eyes again, I smooth my hair down to try and look presentable for whoever it is, and as I open the door, I’m again, not at all expecting who stands there. Words get choked in my throat for a moment, before I force his name through my lips.
“Damon?”