Chapter 20
Allegra
“How do you feel?” Dr. Reese asks the following morning.
“Like I was attacked,” I admit. I try to sit up straighter and groan as my ribs protest in pain.
“How’s your head?” she asks, feeling the back of my head for the bump that protrudes there.
“Throbbing.”
“And your lip?”
“Sore.”
She nods. “You’ve sustained some injuries, but given what occurred, you’re lucky, Allegra.”
Derek glowers. “Lucky? She could’ve been raped!”
Dr. Reese inhales sharply.
I reach for Derek’s hand and squeeze. “It could have been much, much worse.”
“Yes,” Dr. Reese agrees softly. “Your concussion, and your ribs, will take time to heal. Be easy with yourself. I’ve spoken with Derek, as well as with your brother, and it seems like you’ll be in capable hands at home.”
Derek grunts. His expression is cool, his mouth pressed in a thin line. Every time he meets my eyes, I read the fury, the agony, in his.
“I can’t wait to sleep in my own bed,” I agree.
“You’ll have to remain sleeping upright for a few weeks,” she cautions, pointing toward my ribs. “They’ll take at least six weeks, if not longer, to heal.”
“I miss my sheets,” I tell her.
She chuckles. “I’ll get your discharge papers ready to go. See if we can get you out of here in an hour or two.” She glances at Derek. “In the meantime, Allegra has visitors.”
“Okay,” he says.
She lifts an eyebrow.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he mouths off.
I expect Dr. Reese to push back but she chuckles. “Good for you.” She turns to look at me. “If you get tired—”
“I’ll kick them all out,” Derek cuts her off.
“See that you do,” Dr. Reese replies. “I’ll pop back in before you leave.” Placing a clipboard underneath her arm, she leaves my room in confident, measured strides.
I roll my head along the pillow and glance at Derek. “You can go get some rest,” I say, noting the exhaustion that lines his face. “I’ll be home soon.”
“I’m right where I want to be,” he replies, shifting closer to my bedside.
“Derek,” I murmur, reaching for his hand.
He slips his fingers in between mine.
“You could shower. Change. Eat,” I say.
He shakes his head. “None of that matters.”
I snort. Wince. “I promise I’m fine if you—”
“I’m not,” he interjects.
“What?”
“I’m not fine. Fuck, Stellina, my heart fucking skipped out of my body when Hendrix told me you were attacked.” His fingers clutch mine tighter. “I just, I need to be here with you. Keep my eyes on you. I’m still too…rattled.”
“Okay,” I say lightly. His words are a salve to old wounds, emotional ones, that he can’t see. At the sincerity in his eyes and the angry twist of his lips, a strange sense of relief flows through me. I feel safer, stronger, knowing that he’s here.
He dips forward and brushes a kiss over my forehead. He lingers for a moment, and I breathe him in. Tilt my face up to meet his lips.
He smiles but pulls back. “Your lip.”
“It’s fine,” I breathe out.
Derek chuckles. “You just said it’s sore. I don’t want you to hurt, beauty. I can barely handle seeing you in pain right now.”
I sigh, annoyed that he won’t oblige me and kiss me senseless. Still, at the tightness in half of my face, I know he’s right. Kissing will be painful right now.
“Want me to let your fan club back?” he asks. “Not all at once. But a few at a time?”
“Who’s here?”
“Who isn’t here is the question you should be asking.” He smiles. “Ivy, Nova, Kenny. Levi, Mav, Jameson. Dex.”
“Dex!”
“He sat with me last night,” Derek says, surprising me.
My mouth drops opened. “He did? How was it?”
Derek drops his head sheepishly. “It was…nice. Normal.”
I squeeze his hand. “Good. I’m happy for you, Derek.”
“Yeah,” he agrees before changing the subject back to our friends. “Hendrix, fucking Ethan—”
I laugh. He rolls his eyes.
“Ethan’s been a good friend to me this year,” I remind him. While we don’t hang out regularly, we still check in with each other from time to time.
“And a girl named Devy,” Derek adds.
“We worked together at Beirut,” I explain.
“Dex told me. You want to see them before Dr. Reese cuts you loose?”
“Yes,” I say. Knowing my friends are in the waiting room gives me a rush of energy. I want to see them. I want to thank them and show them that I’m okay.
Before Derek can text anyone and tell them to come back, a knock sounds on the door.
Derek turns and I glance up as my mother peeks into the room. I inhale sharply.
Her eyes find mine. A cloudy blue filled with pain. Regret. Apology. And hope. Her shoulders roll forward, as if to ward off witnessing my injuries. She steps into the room and horror crosses her expression.
My mouth drops open. Surprise slams into me as I grip the handrail on the bed.
Levi enters the space behind her.
Mom’s face crumples as she looks me over. “My God, Allegra.” A tremor threads through her tone and her hand comes up to cover her mouth.
Derek stands, positioning himself at my side. He slides his hand over mine.
“Mommy,” I breathe, my voice breaking.
Mom steps forward. Tears flood her eyes. Her hand shakes as she reaches for me.
I loosen my hold on the handrail and Derek slips his hand from mine, correctly reading that I want to have this moment with my mom.
As Derek steps back, my mom takes his place. She leans over the bed and gathers me in her arms.
I breathe her in and a hundred memories from my childhood flare to life in my mind.
It’s as if a self-protective dam has broken and her presence called the memories to life.
The two of us baking bread in the warm kitchen of my childhood home.
Volunteering and singing Christmas carols at the nursing home in town.
Taking long walks in the summer and picking wildflowers to display in the blue vase on the kitchen table.
“Thank God you’re okay,” she murmurs in my hair.
“Thank you for coming.”
“Oh, Allegra,” she murmurs, her voice cracking. “I’m so sorry I stayed away for so long. I used to ask God to forgive me.” She pulls back and cups my cheek. Her eyes meet mine. “But now, now I just want your forgiveness. Could you try to give it to me? Even if I’m not worthy of it.”
“Mom,” I sob, holding out my arm.
She hugs me again. Over her shoulder, I note the tears that fall down Levi’s cheeks. The emotion that swells in Derek’s expression as he stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks away.
I manage a deep inhale and even though it sets the side of my body on fire, another old wound, scabbed over but so deep it aches, begins to heal.
“You’re here now,” I say. “That’s what matters.”
That afternoon, before I’m discharged, Derek and Levi skip out for coffee and give me a chance to catch up with Mom.
“Levi called,” she admits from the chair beside my bed.
“He did?” Wow. For Levi to reach out to Mom after years of being estranged is huge.
Did he do it for me?
I recall my past few weeks with Levi; the guy he’s become since he left rehab. I think he knows, deep down, it’s what I still want. A relationship with our parents, a way home so to speak.
Mom nods, dabbing at tears in the corners of her eyes. “My heart was in my toes. I was petrified. Panicked. And then, he offered to fly me out. I heard myself saying yes. I hung up, packed a bag, left your father a note, and…I’m here.”
“You left Dad a note?” I can’t hide the disbelief from my tone.
Mom sputters a laugh, but it’s edged with nerves. “I did. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“Have you heard from him?”
“He’s not happy,” she admits. “But neither was I. Not since you left.” Mom leans forward again and recaptures my hand.
“I’m sorry, Allegra. When you went away to college, I kept praying you’d find your way home.
It was always the way I defined home. The Church, the community, marriage, and family.
But when Levi called and my heart dropped, I realized maybe you are home.
You and Levi.” She smiles sadly. “You have a community here with your social justice outreach and your friends. Levi told me you and Derek are together. That he hasn’t left your side in weeks.
” She shakes her head. “Even the way he protected you when I knocked on the door… You have a man who loves you. A brother who wants to be with you. A waiting room filled with people, true friends, who care about you.” A tear spills onto her cheek.
“Deep down, you have more of a home than I do. And I’m sorry. ”
“Mom,” I whisper, gripping her hand. The regret in her tone breaks my heart because I know she means it.
We haven’t had the relationship I wanted in years, maybe even ever, but I never gave up hope that one day, we’d connect.
Deep down, I always sensed that if she could shake off my father’s thumb, she’d embrace me for who I am. Her daughter.
“No,” she refutes. “Don’t feel bad for me. I made the choices I did and now, I must live with them.”
“I’d like for us to have a relationship again,” I murmur. “I want you to know my friends, Derek, my life here in LA.”
Surprise rings her irises. “Really?” Hesitant hope weaves through her voice.
“Really. I love my life here. It’s my home now. But I miss you. I love you. I want you in my life too,” I clarify. If this past year has taught me anything, it’s the power of forgiveness. It’s knowing people can change. It’s believing in second chances. Just like Dex encouraged me to.
“Oh, Allegra.” Her face falls again. “I want you in my life, too. I never, not for a second, stopped loving you, sweet girl.”
“And Dad?” I hate the hope that sparks in my words.
“If your father continues to miss out, then that’s his choice. And he’ll have to live with it.” I’ve never heard her speak so harshly about my father before.
Her words ease some of the rejection I’ve felt from my father.
I know she’s been on the receiving end of his disapproval.
Has she felt the same dejection? Has she sought out his love and acceptance like me?
If she’s managed to come to terms with it, after sharing more than half of her life with him, why can’t I?