Chapter 13
thirteen
Rosalie
Paige and I returned home a few hours ago after grabbing breakfast in town, and I immediately set to work prepping her room for painting.
I’m glad Cameron and I stopped when we did because I underestimated the amount of time it would take to move just the few pieces of furniture already in Paige’s room, lay down drop cloths, and tape all the edges.
Having a Type A personality isn’t very helpful in moments like this when I desperately wish I could wing it, instead of overanalyzing the straightness of every piece of tape I lay down.
Reaching the point when I’m ready to start priming the room, I catch a glimpse at my watch and realize it’s lunch time, and I need to feed Paige before diving deep into this project.
I make my way to the living room where I set up all of Paige’s craft supplies in hopes it would keep her occupied long enough I could make some decent headway without her desire to assist.
“Hey,” I say, leaning down over her and kissing her cheek. “What are you making?”
“I drew a herd of horses like the ones we saw on our drive in. See, there’s Heartsy Fartsy,” she says, pointing to a blob-like figure that has what appears to be gas coming out of one end.
I let out a quiet laugh. “Wow. I love that you’re drawing a scene from our trip. Maybe we can hang it up in your room when it’s finished.”
“Oh yes! It will be my first decoration!”
“I love it! Sounds like an excellent plan. Now, it’s lunchtime, what do you want to eat?”
Paige settles on a ham and cheese sandwich, chips, and a banana. To make things easier, I make the same for myself, scarfing it down so I can get back to the bedroom project as quickly as I can.
I’ve just popped the top off the can of primer when my phone rings, a smile forming on my lips when I see it’s a call from my brother Carter.
Of course, he would call when I’m about to take on my very own version of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. I’m sure he’ll have plenty of unsolicited advice on things I should be doing differently.
I put my phone down on the stool next to the paint cans, hit accept, and switch it to speaker so I can multitask and move forward.
“Hey, Carter!” I say enthusiastically. Clearly, I’m excited to chat with someone from home. I talk to my mom almost daily, and by default my dad, too, but I haven’t had a ton of time to catch up with either of my brothers since moving to Winhaven, and I can’t wait to tell him all that’s going on.
“Rosalie,” he chokes out, and I’m immediately on alert. This is not the mirth-filled greeting I expected from Carter.
I grab the phone from the stool, switch it off speaker, and bring it to my ear. With a trembling hand and shaky breath, I rasp out, “Carter, what’s wrong?”
I can hear the unease in his breath, too, which only ramps up my anxiety. I hear him take one big inhale as if calming himself before telling me what’s wrong. But instead of an explanation, a loud cry bursts from his mouth, followed by a choked out, “It’s Mom.”
I move on instinct toward the bathroom, knocking over the can of primer in the process.
At this point I don’t care, and the giant mess barely registers.
I need a place where I’m not exposed to my daughter while my brother shares the news with me.
I need one more barrier between myself and the one life I want to protect more than anything from this feeling of impending doom.
I already know whatever he has to tell me will shatter me into a million little pieces.
“Carter!” I demand, panic lacing that single word. “Tell me what’s wrong with Mom!”
He tries again, taking a deep, fortifying breath before composing himself and saying, “Rosalie, Mom had a heart attack.” He hiccups, holding back another sob, and continues. “Dad tried to give her CPR, but she stopped breathing before the EMTs could get to the house.”
I sink to the ground and cover my mouth to try and stop the sob that’s about to explode its way out of my body.
Then I hear Carter go on. “Dad wouldn’t give up, and was still giving her CPR when the EMTs got to the house. They took over as she was loaded into the ambulance.”
The whole story is pouring out of him now while I silently sob in the fetal position on my bathroom floor. “They were able to resuscitate her on the drive to the hospital, but shortly after they arrived and got her to a room, she coded again. The doctors say it was likely a myocardial infarction.”
I know what’s coming. In my heart of hearts, I can already feel the emptiness inside. The giant part of myself that was connected to my mom is gone. I know it, but nothing prepares me for the actual words.
Carter begins sobbing again as he says, “Rosalie, Mom’s gone.”
A guttural cry erupts from my mouth, and I drop the phone at my side. The sound is followed by the beginning of bone-racking sobs.
But before I can completely fall apart, there’s a knock on the bathroom door followed by, “Mommy, what’s wrong? Are you sad you made a mess?”
Paige. Paige is at the door, and I remember I’m not alone.
Standing on shaky legs, I look in the mirror.
I’m a mess. My eyes are red-rimmed and puffy, my eyelashes are soaked, and I can’t stop the tears from streaming down my face.
How am I going to tell my daughter her grandma, who helped raise her, has died?
But more than that, I wonder how I’m going to raise this little girl without all the wisdom my mom had yet to impart on me, and the overwhelming feeling of despair hits me hard.
It’s too much to think about right now with my emotions so openly raw, and I don’t want to scare Paige with my reaction. So, I choose to lie, just for the time being.
“Yeah, baby,” I say, holding in the sob that tries to escape with my words. “I hurt my finger opening the can of paint. It’s a mess, don’t touch anything.”
“Okay, Mommy,” Paige responds, and I hear her voice get a bit farther away as she says it.
I pick up my phone from the floor, but Carter has already hung up. I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t be able to listen to my sibling fall apart on the other end of the line, halfway across the country, and not be able to do anything. But he did text me.
CARTER
We’re still at the hospital. Dad’s a mess. We all are. We need you.
This brings another round of silent sobs as I respond to Carter through my tears
I'll be home as soon as I can. I’m going to look at flights now. I love you.
I can’t bring myself to type anything more, so I hit send.
I take several deep breaths, rinse off my face, and peer out the door to ensure Paige has returned to her crafts before walking into the room to clean up my mess.
I can fall apart another time, but right now I need to clean up the primer and figure out a way to get home.
I need to figure out a lot of things.
How I’ll tell Paige about this earth-shattering loss, how to put one foot in front of the other, how to breathe through this immense pain. I need to see my family, a family that no longer includes my best friend, my confidant in all things, my mom.
It’s with that thought I run back into the bathroom and empty the contents of my stomach.
When I get myself together once more, I clean up as much of the primer as I can from the floor and head into the living room, needing to see Paige. I find her peacefully coloring, not a care in the world, and I take a moment, reveling in her innocence.
“Hey, Paigey,” I say, drawing her attention to me but not having a clue what to say next.
“Hey, Mommy, is your finger all better?”
“Yeah, baby, it is. Thank you so much for checking on me. That was so kind of you.”
“You’re welcome, I don’t like it when you’re hurt,” she says, getting up to come and give me a hug.
If she only knew how hurt I was right now, but it has nothing to do with my finger.
Her tenderness almost brings me to tears again. So, I take in a shaky breath and then ask her if she wants to have a Mommy-Daughter Movie Day.
I need her distracted while I make all the necessary phone calls and book our flight home tomorrow, but I also need her close.
“Yes!” Paige says, with a fist pump in the air. “Can we watch Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron?”
Under any other circumstances, I would have had to stifle my groan and try to finagle my way into another movie, but right now, I don’t have it in me to care.
I snuggle up with Paige on the couch, and within the first half hour, she’s asleep. I wiggle out from under her little body and make my way to my bedroom.
The first thing I do is book tickets for us both to fly home on the earliest flight out tomorrow.
The closest airport is Lexington, and it’s about an hour and a half away from Winhaven.
I don’t really have the funds to leave my car in long-term parking for who knows how long, but I don’t really have a choice at this point.
Running through the muddled checklist in my mind, I pick up my phone to call Elodie. The phone rings several times and I’m rehearsing what to leave on her voicemail when a breathless voice picks up.
“Hello, Rosalie? Are you there? Sorry, I left my phone at the other end of the barn and had to sprint to grab it.”
“Yeah, I’m here,” I say, struggling to keep it together, but the choked sound accompanying my words makes it obvious I’m not okay.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
Concern is evident in her tone and although we’ve only worked together for a relatively short time, we’ve become fast friends, which is why I break down on the phone.
Between quiet sobs, so as not to wake Paige, I tell Elodie everything I know so far.
I’m a rambling mess, but I make sure I end with an apology for missing work.
“I know I just started, and I’m so sorry I’ll be out so soon, but I need to go home.
I don’t even know how long I’ll need to be there. ”
“Oh, Rosalie, I’m so sorry.” The care in her voice is evident. “Don’t worry about a thing, we can handle it. The university offers good time-off and bereavement benefits, so take the time you need. Now, as your friend, what can I do? Do you need me to come over?”
My sobs have quieted; a bit of stress has been alleviated, and I have one less thing to worry about while I’m gone.
“Oh no, thank you, though. It means a lot that you would, but I’m okay.” I’m not really okay, but I try to infuse as much certainty into my voice as possible. I know Elodie would come to me in a heartbeat, but she lives so far outside of town I don’t want to put that on her.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I need to pack and wake up Paige. I have no idea how I’m going to tell her my mom died.” Saying it so blatantly has my throat closing up again as I choke on the emotions.
“Oh, sweetie, I wish I had words to help you. I can’t even begin to imagine what to say to your sweet girl. Please let me know if I can do anything while you’re away, okay? Call me or text me if you need anything.”
“Thank you, I will. Bye.” I don’t have it in me for anything more than that simple statement, and luckily, Elodie doesn’t seem to mind.
“Bye.”
Ending the call as quickly as I can, I find myself walking across the hall to the paint-splattered room. Staring at the stain, all I can hear is Carter’s voice: Rosalie, Mom’s gone.
I sink to my knees, cover my face, and begin to cry once more.
It’s the wracking, quiet sobs that make you feel like your insides are just straining to come out.
My eyes squeeze shut, the feeling of loss is almost unbearable and the thought of trying to explain it to Paige is overwhelming. I don’t even know where to start.
When I’m all cried out, I open my eyes and catch a glimpse of the receipt with my hardware store list on it next to the spilled primer can.
I had pulled it out of my purse this morning to make sure I had all the right things I needed in the room with me when I started painting Paige’s room.
Reaching for it and flipping it over, I stare at Cameron’s number.
My mind goes back to yesterday. How was that just yesterday?
No less than twenty-four hours ago, Cameron and I were in the living room where my daughter now sleeps, oblivious to the heartache that’s waiting for her, laughing and talking about life.
He was so open with me—about his daughter and the loss of his wife.
My heart gives a heavy thud as realization dawns.
Our friendship may be new, but he’s been nothing but kind and helpful since we met and after yesterday, I know he’s someone I can count on. He said to call if I needed anything—and I do, I need him. Reaching for my phone, I scroll through the contacts and press my finger on his name.