5. Laila
5
LAILA
The sign waving above the crowd of people at arrivals reads, “ Queen Laila and Princess Nina. ” My stupid, traitorous heart flutters as I look down from the sign to the man holding it and see…
Dominik.
I’m pathetic. A few hours ago, I was determined to never see Arsen again, and yet some desperate part of me was still wishing he’d be the one to grab us from the airport.
I jog past Gedeon, who is dead to me, and throw my arms around Dom. “It’s so good to see you. You look better.”
“I was in the hospital for weeks, Laila, and I haven’t seen you in months. I’m gonna need more enthusiasm from you. Compliment me like you mean it.”
Given why I got on the flight in the first place, enthusiasm is in short supply, but I muster some up for Dom. “You look… sexy as hell? A dreamboat to die for? People Magazine’s Most Beautiful Man on Earth?”
“Much better, although don’t you dare say that in Arsen’s vicinity or he’ll put me right back in a hospital bed.” He lets me go to clap Gedeon on the back, and then he turns his attention to Nina. “Jesus, she’s big.”
“Three months will do that to an infant.” He pulls her into his arms, and she eyes him suspiciously, but doesn’t cry.
“I think she remembers you from all the FaceTime calls.”
Sure enough, Nina places a hand on Dominik’s cheek and smiles.
On the way to the car, Dominik carries Nina while Gedeon tows the luggage. “I’m supposed to take you back to the house first,” Dom starts, “and then we’ll go?—”
“I want you to take me straight to the hospital.”
My two bodyguards share a look, and I jab a finger towards the sign Dom has tucked under his arm. “Queen Laila decrees it. And before you say anything, Queen Laila doesn’t care what King Asshole Incredible has to say about it.”
Dominik looks to Gedeon. “Who?”
Gedeon just pats him on the back. “Pick your battles, brother.”
Dominik sighs. “Alright then. To the hospital, it is.”
Dominik’s attempts to fill the drawn-out silences with anything other than the big, fat elephant in the room are commendable, but after he’s caught me up on Kira’s last trimester—a bit redundant, since I talked to Kira twice last week—there’s nothing left to talk about. So we don’t talk about anything at all.
Which is fine with me.
The thought of maybe seeing Arsen at the airport kept me distracted on the flight, but now, there’s nothing else for my brain to ruminate on except my mom.
She told me her phone camera was acting up the last few days, which is why we couldn’t video chat. I’m guessing that was a lie so I wouldn’t see her in the hospital.
Arsen said something about an infection, but I wasn’t in a place to take in details. Now, however, as we park in an underground garage and walk through a lobby that looks more like a high-end spa than a hospital, I’m taking in details.
Like the awards hanging on the walls declaring this “The Number One Choice for Hospice Care” multiple years in a row.
Like the “End Of Life” checklists hanging on bulletin boards and the endless array of kind nurses with sad eyes who nod to Dominik as we pass by.
This is the kind of place you check into, but never out of.
Finally, Dominik stops outside of Room 62. “Here we are. This is her casa. ”
I reach for the handle, but freeze. This is all I’ve wanted for months, but now, I can’t move. I’ve seen her on FaceTime, and I told myself that was good enough, but the connection was always spotty, the image blurred. I was able to convince myself she was looking good, but in a matter of seconds, I’ll be hit with the truth.
She is sick.
Deathly sick.
And I’m going to lose her.
Before I can work up the courage to go in, the door opens. Evelyn walks out, nearly running into me. “Laila!” she gasps. She shuts the door behind her and launches herself at me. “I can’t believe it. You’re here. You’re really here.”
I half-laugh, half-cry into Evelyn’s shoulder. “How are you? How is she?”
Evelyn releases me and takes a step back, her gaze racing over me. “You’ve lost weight.”
I could make a joke about the only restaurant near our prison cell of an apartment serving previously frozen sandwiches and wilted salads, but the truth is that I’ve been full up on anger for way too long.
I step closer, voice low. “How bad is it, Evelyn? What are the doctors saying?”
Evelyn’s face falls. “Your mother’s strong, but in her condition… an infection like this…”
“Can’t they give her something? An antibiotic or something?”
“At this stage, anything they give her is just to make sure she’s comfortable. I’m afraid…” Her voice trembles. “… there’s nothing they can do at this point.” Evelyn clasps my arm, tears swimming in her eyes. “She’s going to be so happy to see you, honey. Go on in.”
My lungs are tight. It feels like there are cement blocks strapped to my feet as I hand over Nina and then shuffle past her and through the door.
A bright bouquet of flowers on the bedside table catches my eye before I see her in her bed, a maze of tubes and needles weaving in and around her. She’s facing an open window that looks out on a green space, but her eyes are closed and her hands are folded over her chest.
She looks peaceful. It seems a shame to wake her up.
But it’s been so long, I can’t help myself.
“Mom…?” I whisper, edging towards her bed.
She smiles slightly, but she still doesn’t open her eyes. Not until I put my hand over hers. Then her eyelids flutter open, her jaw dropping in shock. “Laila?”
I swallow down the sob lodged in my throat. “Who else calls you ‘Mom’?”
“I thought I was imagining it,” she admits. “Sometimes, I swear I can hear your voice in quiet moments.”
And that’s about all it takes to set me off. Just like that, I’m blubbering all over her, doing exactly what I told myself I wouldn’t do.
“Honey.” Mom strokes my hair the way she used to when I was a little girl and would wake up with nightmares. “Don’t cry, please. It’s okay.”
“Figures,” I sniffle, wiping my nose on my sleeve. “You’re the one in the hospital bed and you’re still taking care of me.”
“Ridiculous, isn’t it?” she teases. “You’re stealing my thunder here, love.”
Laughter fights its way through the tears. Mom makes room for me on her bed, and I slip under the covers beside her. She wraps her arms around me, and I try to ignore how fragile she feels. How thin.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe.
“For what, honey?”
“For not being here all this time. I should have been the one taking care of you. Not Evelyn.”
“Don’t apologize for that, Laila. The last three months were ones to miss, for sure. Don’t get me wrong—I’m glad you’re here—but part of me wishes you hadn’t come back. I told him to keep you where you were for a little while longer.”
She says the last part almost to herself, and I nearly fall out of the bed. “You wanted me to stay away?”
“I thought it would be for the best. But he insisted that with the threat gone, he couldn’t justify keeping you in Vermont anymore. Even if the alternative is to bring you back so you can watch me die.”
“Mom, stop. You don’t mean that.”
“I’ll admit,” she continues as though I haven’t spoken, “I was upset with Arsen the first few weeks after he sent you and Nina away. But then I began to see the silver lining in all this.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I’m tempted to check the back of her head for some kind of implant—a microchip that might explain why she is siding with Arsen.
“He robbed us of our last few months together! How can you possibly defend that?”
“We’ve had a lifetime together, sweetheart. And we’ve filled it with the best memories. I want you to hold on to those . Not these.” She lifts her arms weakly, then drops them back onto the pale blue hospital blanket. “I didn’t want you to have to watch me fade away. I wanted to spare you that.”
“That’s not up to you to decide. It’s not up to anyone but me.”
Mom takes my hand. “I love you, Laila. And I also know you. You hate being helpless. And my case is as helpless as they come. There’s nothing you can do now.”
I leap off the bed and glare down at her. “I can be with you! I can support you! I can talk to the doctors and look into alternate therapies, different medications. Maybe we can even look into a new clinic. A bigger hospital. Maybe?—”
Mom sighs. “This is exactly what I was afraid of.”
I stop short. “What do you mean?”
“Laila, honey.” She reaches for me, but I leave her hand hovering in the air, too scared to grab it until I know what she’s going to say. “You’re a fighter, but there’s nothing left to fight here. The only thing I can do is reflect on my life, give thanks for the good, and accept what I can’t change. And this cancer? I can’t change that.”
A sob bursts out of me. Her hand is still trembling in the air, waiting for me. I can’t stop myself from folding our fingers together, if only so she can rest.
“I’m dying, Laila. And you know what? I want to die. It’s time.”
“You don’t mean that,” I choke out.
“I do. I’ve been in pain for a long time now.” She winces, her color draining further. “But I’m tired of pretending that I’m okay. My body is failing me, and I don’t want to fight it anymore.”
“But… what about me?” I protest selfishly. “What about Nina?”
It’s cruel to point out everything she’s leaving behind, especially when none of this is her choice. But I can’t stop myself. Everything will be awful without her, and she doesn’t seem to care.
“You have each other. You have Arsen.”
“Nina and I don’t have Arsen. He’s the one who sent us away! Banished us for no good reason?—”
“Do you really think he had no good reason, Laila?” Mom asks in a stern voice I haven’t heard in years. “Do you really think he sent you away just to be cruel?”
I drop her hand and pace away in furious disgust. “Why am I the only one who can see this man clearly? You can’t possibly be on his side.”
I don’t want to spend the last days of my mother’s life convincing her the father of her grandchild is a monster, but I will if I have to.
“There are no sides, sweetheart. He’s your husband. He’s Nina’s father. Is he perfect? No, of course not—none of us are. But in his own way, he was trying to?—”
“Protect us!” I yell. “Yes, I know. I’ve already heard this spiel from Gedeon and Dominik. I just didn’t expect my own mother to be driving the Arsen bandwagon. But it’s just like him to go and brainwash you, too!”
“Hey now, give me a little more credit than that. My body may be weak, but my mind is not.”
I drop my face into my hands. “I don’t want to fight.”
I don’t know what I want, really. Would I feel any better if my mom spent her last days hating Arsen every bit as much as I do? Do I want her to die with unspent anger burning inside of her?
“Come sit with me.”
Reluctantly, I cuddle up beside her, trying to breathe through my anger. It takes me several minutes before I feel calm enough to speak. “He hurt me, Mama. He stole our time together. Our last few months.”
“I know. But I have a feeling he’s going to work hard to make up for it. And you have to think about the bigger picture, sweet girl.”
“Which is what?”
“Nina.” Her smile turns soft. “Do you want your daughter growing up in a home with forgiveness? Or one where her parents are at each other’s throats all the time?”
I hate that she’s making sense.
“You want me to forgive him?” I ask.
“I want you to think about what you want.”
I think about it for approximately half a second. “I want to kill him.”
Mom just smiles and pats my arm. “Right now, yes. But what happens when that anger fades?”
“I’ll probably still want to kill him.”
She chuckles. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe you’re so angry with him because you love him?”
I grimace. “I… That’s not… He?—”
Mom holds up a hand. “Love isn’t something you can turn on and off like a faucet, sweetheart.”
I flinch. She said the same thing to me not long ago about my father.
“Once you and Arsen talk, you might realize that you do still love him. And you’ll have to make a choice: anger or love. Both are valid feelings, but only one will keep you warm at night.”
“How can I forgive this?”
“With time,” she suggests. “Forgiveness is never easy, but maybe that’s why it’s worth doing. If not for Arsen, then for yourself. For Nina.”
“What if I regret it?” I whisper. “What if I let him in again and he hurts me?”
“You’ll regret the things you don’t do a lot more than the things you do,” she says. “Trust me. I’ve lived a long life, and I’m leaving with no regrets.”
“What about those bangs you gave yourself before your high school prom? I saw the pictures. They were awful.”
She laughs, and for a second, she looks like herself—not sick, not dying. Just Mom . “Okay, so maybe I have one regret.”
My smile wobbles, but I can’t stop myself from asking the question burning on the tip of my tongue. Maybe because I’m slowly starting to accept that we don’t have a lot of time left. “What about marrying Dad?”
Her smile grows wider as tears fill her eyes. “Oh, honey, of course I don’t regret marrying him.”
“Because you’ve forgiven him?”
She presses a kiss to my forehead, and my childhood flashes before my eyes. Peanut butter sandwiches and messy watercolors on the porch. Gloria Estefan on the radio and a lopsided hammock in the backyard.
“Because he gave me you.”