Chapter 22
22
AMELIA
I stared down at my mom in the hospital bed.
She looked so small, so fragile, her skin pale and her breathing shallow.
When I got the call, I thought it had to be a mistake.
I had seen her yesterday.
She’d been sitting up and looked normal.
Her version of normal.
She was sound asleep.
I didn’t want to wake her up.
Not that it mattered.
The doctor was on his way in to talk to me, but I was aware of the prognosis.
I heard soft footfalls and got to my feet.
The doctor came in with that look on his face.
I knew the look well.
My research and time in many hospitals had exposed me to that look countless times.
“Hi, Amelia,” he greeted with a soft smile.
“Hello. What happened?”
“Her dementia has progressed rapidly,” he said, his tone grave.
He glanced at the tablet in his hands.
“We ran some tests. Her body is shutting down.” He paused, meeting my eyes with a look of empathy.
“We suspect she might have even suffered a minor stroke. I understand you were asked yesterday if you’d like to reconsider the feeding tube.”
“No,” I said with a shake of my head.
“No, thank you.”
“Then I think you understand the situation. We will keep her comfortable, but it won’t be long.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
“Thank you.”
He reached out and put his hand on my upper arm.
“I’m sorry, Amelia.”
“Thank you.”
He walked away, leaving me alone with her.
I felt numb, like I was floating outside of my own body, watching this nightmare unfold from a distance.
She was a ghost of the woman she used to be.
The woman who used to sing in the kitchen while making pancakes, who would laugh so hard her shoulders shook when we watched old sitcoms together.
She didn’t always know who I was, but she had been so full of laughter despite her injury.
I sat down again and leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, trying to ground myself.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
I pulled it out, staring at the screen.
A voicemail from Jared.
My throat tightened.
I couldn’t deal with him right now.
Not with this. I didn’t know what to say, how to explain why I’d bolted from the conference without a word.
How could I tell him that my world was unraveling?
I’d known her health was declining, but I hadn’t expected it to happen this fast. I reached for her hand, my fingers warm against her cool skin, but she didn’t respond.
She was asleep, her face peaceful, but I knew that peace was fleeting.
She stirred, her eyes fluttering open.
I stood and looked down at her with a smile.
“Hi,” I said.
She blinked, her eyes cloudy and unfocused, and for a moment, I thought she might recognize me.
My heart leapt in my chest. But then she smiled weakly.
“Did you bring me dinner?”
“No, no dinner. Are you hungry?”
“No, thank you. I told the other nurse I won’t be taking tea today.”
My stomach dropped.
She thought I was a nurse again.
“Mom,” I said gently, squeezing her hand a little tighter.
“It’s me. Amelia.”
She frowned slightly, her brow wrinkling in confusion.
“Amelia? No, no, Amelia’s at school. She has that big test today.” Her voice was so certain, so matter of fact, as if she were stating the obvious.
I swallowed hard, the ache in my chest deepening.
“No, Mom,” I said, forcing a smile though it felt like my face might crack.
“I’m Amelia. Your daughter.”
She tilted her head, studying me with those tired eyes, and for a split second, I thought she might see me—really see me.
But then she chuckled softly, a sound that used to fill me with warmth.
“You’re funny, honey. You look a bit like her, though. My Amelia. She’s so serious though. I just hope she grows up happy. Falls in love.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep the tears at bay.
“Yeah,” I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath.
“I hope so too.”
She patted my hand, her touch feather-light.
“You’re a good nurse,” she said with a faint smile before her eyes drifted closed again.
I sat there for what felt like hours, holding her hand, my mind racing.
I didn’t know what to do.
I didn’t know how to process this.
My phone vibrated again.
It was a text from Jared.
I hadn’t told him what was happening.
But telling him would mean opening up about my mom, about my past, about the complicated mess that was my life.
And I wasn’t ready for that.
I needed to be putting distance between him and me, not getting closer to him.
He was just the guy I hooked up with a couple of times.
Nothing else. I wasn’t about to pour my heart and soul out about my mother.
I stood up, my legs shaky, and stepped out of the room, needing a moment to breathe.
The hallway was quiet.
The facility didn’t have the typical announcements blaring over a PA system.
Things were quiet to keep from alarming the residents.
I leaned against the wall, closing my eyes, and took a deep breath.
I needed to pull myself together.
I couldn’t fall apart now.
I knew things were happening.
I couldn’t afford to lose it.
I was a doctor. I knew the way these afflictions ended.
It was why I was working so hard to make sure no other family had to go through this nightmare.
I checked the time and realized I wasn’t too late to make it to the dinner that would wrap up the conference.
There was nothing I could do sitting beside my mother.
But the conference did offer information I could apply to my own research.
I had to stay active.
I called an Uber, my mind still reeling, and headed back to the hotel.
The ride gave me a chance to come to grips with my feelings, to try to make sense of everything that had happened.
Last night with Jared had been incredible.
Being with him was like nothing I could have ever imagined.
It wasn’t just the physical connection—it was the way he made me feel, the way he looked at me, the way he touched me.
Maybe he did feel something more than just a romp in the hay.
It felt like more than a hookup, to me at least. I decided, right then and there, that I needed to tell him the truth about my mom.
It was a vulnerable, terrifying decision, but I felt like I owed it to him.
To us. I bailed on the conference he’d been so generous to bring me to.
If he thought I didn’t appreciate it, he might not bring me to another one.
When I arrived at the restaurant, my heart was pounding, my hands trembling.
I took a deep breath, smoothing my fancy slacks that Jared had paid for.
The room was filled with people and the smell of garlic and onions.
I scanned the room, looking for Jared, and that’s when I saw him.
He was sitting at a table with Gemma, leaning in close, listening to something she’d said.
My stomach dropped, my chest tightening as I watched them.
They looked cozy. Comfortable.
Like they belonged together.
I felt like I’d been punched in the gut.
I knew Jared had a history with Gemma but seeing them like this hurt.
More than I wanted to admit.
Was last night just a one-night stand for him?
Had it meant nothing?
Had I not been any good?
I turned and walked out of the restaurant, my vision blurring with tears.
I couldn’t stay there.
I couldn’t face him, not after that.
I called another Uber and went back to the hospital, my heart heavy, my mind racing.
I was supposed to head back to Key West tonight with Jared, but I couldn’t do it.
I couldn’t face him, not after what I’d just seen.
There was no way I was going to be trapped in a little airplane with him.
But I couldn’t exactly afford to buy a flight.
“Dammit.”
And did I really want to leave?
These might be the final hours with my mother.
But in the back of my mind, I could admit the real reason I wasn’t jumping at the chance to get back to the lab was because I didn’t want to see Jared.
Not yet.
I called Clair instead, the only person I knew who could possibly help me.
“Hey,” she answered.
“How’s the conference?”
“Uh, fine.”
“Amelia? What’s going on?”
“My mom isn’t doing well,” I said.
“I… I need to be here.”
Clair’s voice was soft, filled with concern.
“Of course, Amelia. Take all the time you need. I’ll cover for you at the lab.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you want to tell me?” she asked gently.
“I have two amazing ears. I can listen. I know you’re here alone. You’re in a foreign country and I think I’m you’re only friend, right?”
A watery laugh escaped my throat.
“Oh, Clair, you have no idea just how right you are.”
Instead of going to my mother’s room, I made my way to one of the quiet rooms for family to process, grieve, or just grab a quick nap.
I sank into one of the worn chairs.
The air smelled faintly of lemon cleaner and stale coffee.
There was a Bible on the table.
Inspirational posters were hung on the walls.
The soft lighting from a couple of table lamps was so much better than the bright lighting in the hall.
“It’s bad. The worst.”
“Tell me,” Clair said.
I took a deep breath, trying to find the words.
“She’s dying, Clair.”
Saying the words aloud was painful and freeing at the same time.
Dying wasn’t a word anyone in the medical profession really used.
It was taboo, like you were admitting defeat.
But it was reality. And accepting that reality actually made me feel a little better.
“Oh, Amelia,” she said.
“I’m so sorry.”
“The doctor says it could be days, maybe a week. Her body is shutting down. They think she had a small stroke on top of everything else. It’s the proverbial straw that just broke her.”
I heard Clair’s sharp intake of breath.
“That’s terrible.”
“I saw her yesterday and she was… well, not fine, but herself. Her dementia self. And now suddenly…” I swallowed hard, fighting the lump in my throat.
“It’s like watching her disappear right in front of me. She doesn’t even know who I am. She thinks I’m a nurse.”
I rubbed my eyes, feeling the exhaustion deep in my bones.
“The worst part is that I’m not even surprised. I’m a doctor, for God’s sake. I know how these things go. One day they’re okay, the next they’re not. But knowing doesn’t make it any easier.”
“Of course it doesn’t,” Clair said gently.
“You’re still her daughter.”
“Am I, though?” I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it.
“If she doesn’t remember me, if she looks at me and sees a stranger, am I still her daughter?
Clair was quiet for a moment. “Yes, you’re still her daughter.
Your connection to her doesn’t just exist in her memory, Amelia.
It’s in you. In everything you do.
In the research you’ve dedicated your life to.
”
I closed my eyes, letting her words wash over me.
“I know you’re right. Logically, I know that. But it still hurts.”
“Of course it does,” she said softly.
“Listen, do you need me to come down there? I can be on the next flight.”
“No, no,” I said quickly.
“I appreciate it, but I’ll be okay. I just needed someone to talk to.”
“Is Jared there with you?”
I let out a bitter laugh.
“No. Jared is having dinner with Gemma. How about that?”
“What?” Clair’s voice rose in disbelief.
“That snake?”
“Yeah,” I said with a sigh.
“Turns out I might have misread the situation. But that’s fine. I don’t have the time or energy for that kind of drama. Can you please let my team know I’ll be gone for a few days? They can work on their research.”
“I’ll pop in and check on them,” she said.
“Take all the time you need.”
It was funny that she was giving me permission.
We both knew that was up to Jared, but it was a family emergency.
“Thank you, Clair. I feel much better.”
“Of course. Call me anytime.”
“I will.”
I ended the call and closed my eyes, wishing this was all a bad dream.