Chapter 21
twenty-one
When I walk into the rehab facility, I’m overwhelmed by the smell of bleach and an obscene amount of lemon air freshener. Did they place a bulk order and decide to use it all at the same time? I hold my breath as I walk through the lobby to avoid a coughing fit that would surely garner attention.
I pick up my pace, heading down the hallway until I enter my mom’s private room, and then the ambiance changes.
While the facility has bright overhead lights and soft cream walls, creating an airy feeling, my mom has created a cozy oasis using a collection of lamps and piping in a faint lavender aroma that reminds me of home.
She has soft blankets thrown over her bed and the recliner, and picture frames scattered throughout the room.
Leave it to my mom to make her rehab room into a sanctuary.
“Hey, Mom. How are you feeling?” I ask, unpacking the salads I brought for our lunch. Although meals are included with her stay, she’s highly judgmental about their food options, insisting that Jake and I bring her in something edible for lunch every day.
“Fine.” She adjusts her position in the navy recliner, pulling up the beige chenille blanket. “Where’s Jake?” She has a tight smile and appraising eyes, waiting for my response.
Great. It’s only been a couple of minutes and she’s already irritated at me. Cannot wait to have this conversation.
“I asked him not to come because I wanted us to have time to talk privately.”
Her lips remain pressed together in a flat line as she opens up her salad container. She squints, trying to discern whether I’m telling the truth. The exact same look she gave me when I was a child.
Don’t let her get to you. Say your piece and let the chips fall where they may.
“Your case manager called yesterday to discuss your estimated discharge date in a few weeks.”
“I’m well aware of when I’m getting out of here, Katherine. What does that have to do with Jake not coming to lunch?” She puts down her fork, eyeing me suspiciously. Her eyebrows lift as she starts lightly tapping her lower lip with her index fingers. “I’m waiting.”
Talking to my mom is never easy. She’s critical of my every word choice. What’s worse is I fear she’s about to lose her shit and turn into a fucking cyclone that tears apart everything it touches when I bring up the significance of her discharge date.
Taking a deep breath and straightening my spine, I force myself to get out the words I know will likely make her explode.
“Your discharge date is after the engagement party you’re hosting for Brian and me.
I completely forgot about it until now. Clearly, we’ll need to cancel the party.
” My body tightens as I wait for her response, knowing she won’t be pleased that I forgot a monumental event and didn’t handle rescheduling the party after the accident.
“Are you being serious?” she questions, eyes wide with shock. Her face morphs from confusion to anger. “You were raised better than this. No one cancels their engagement party two weeks beforehand unless they’re no longer getting married.”
“I—” I look down, ashamed for dropping another ball.
Unsure what to say because there isn’t an excuse for me not realizing the party was happening soon.
At least, not in my mom’s eyes. Not to mention, I don’t feel like celebrating my engagement when my fiancé’s behavior makes me question whether I even want his ring on my finger.
“I should’ve thought about this sooner to provide guests with more notice about canceling and a rescheduled date. I can prioritize—”
“Stop. Talking,” she demands, her face contorted in anger. “We are not canceling.”
A jolt of confusion and surprise floods my body. What is she thinking? She can’t possibly believe she can coordinate a party while she’s in rehab. This is insane.
“Do you have any idea the gossip I would face if you canceled the party? Did you consider how your fiancé might feel?”
I open my mouth, but no words come out. This is not the reaction I thought she’d have.
I knew she wouldn’t be happy.
But I didn’t think she’d be pissed.
“Mom, I’m confused. How are you expecting to host a party when you’re still in rehab? Everyone you’ve invited knows what has happened. They’ll understand if we cancel or postpone the party until you’re better,” I say meekly, hoping that she won’t find my logical argument insulting.
“Absolutely not. The party is already planned. Invites have gone out. We only need to show up.” She shakes her head, taking another bite of her salad and staring intensely at me.
I nod silently. There’s no point saying another word. She’s made herself crystal clear. My engagement party is happening. At least the party will allow me to talk to Brian in person. Truly figure out where things stand between us and make some decisions about our future.