30. Sydney
The sound of the engine humming is the only noise filling the air as I stare out the window of Graham’s pickup truck. What started as a moment to collect myself and work up the nerve to head inside has now turned into a half hour of me trying not to talk myself out of it.
I’ve made it all the way to the nursing home parking lot by myself, but I’m not convinced I can take another step on my own.
There’s been no word from Cole since he left yesterday morning—which also doesn’t help my general mood. Graham offered to accompany me, but I turned him down, assuming it might be easier to come by myself.
I’m starting to regret that decision with each passing second as the inevitable heartache that I know will come from this visit looms like a dark cloud. With a heaving breath, I pull out my phone and scroll through the contacts.
Sydney: Hey.
Laura: What’s wrong?
I smile, appreciating the fact that I have a friend who can tell my mood just by a simple word.
Sydney: I’m going to see my mom. I’m currently sitting in the parking lot, working up the courage to go in…
Laura: You’re the strongest person I know, Syd. You’ve got this.
Sydney: You think so?
Laura: I know so.
It’s short and sweet, but it’s enough of a pep talk to force me out of the truck. If it doesn’t happen now, it never will. I can do this.
“I can do this on my own,” I murmur to myself.
Just as I shut the door, a car I don’t recognize comes peeling into the parking lot, screeching to a stop in the row next to mine. Annoyed, but unbothered, I keep my eyes on the nursing home and round the truck.
“Syd!”
I come to a halt, spinning around at Cole’s voice. My mouth drops open as he comes jogging toward me. Is he serious? Shock morphs immediately into anger with each step he takes.
“So nice of you to show up,” I spit, spinning on my heels to turn away from him.
“Syd, just listen—”
“No. Go away.” I brush him off with a wave of my hand and pick up my pace. He continues following me, and I spin around in a spurt of anger.
“How could you do that, Cole? You said you’d be there with me every step of the way, and you weren’t.”
“Syd—” he says as his face falls.
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, spinning on my heels toward the door. I don’t want to deal with him right now. “I can do this on my own.”
“My uncle is back,” he cuts in.
That stops me in my tracks, and I’m momentarily frozen in place before slowly spinning around. My anger swirls with something softer as I search his eyes.
“What?”
“He’s back,” he says, still breathless.
I skate my gaze over him for a moment, and when I see the glimmer of hope on his face, even more of my anger dissolves.
“Okay. Explain,” I say, crossing my arms.
His shoulders slump with relief, and he runs a hand through his hair to compose himself.
“So I woke up to a text message yesterday morning asking me to meet him in Baudette the next time I rolled through. It’s the first time I’ve heard from him in years, Syd.”
My heart softens at the tone of his voice, and it’s hard to not feel glad for him.
“I’ll tell you all about it later, but I guess I, uh…lost track of time. I ran out to Takini this afternoon, but by the time I got there, Graham said you’d left already. I boated in as fast as I could, I swear.”
He inches closer hesitantly, guilt creasing his features. “I’m sorry, Syd. I meant to be there with you before you left.”
I roll my lips, absorbing his explanation. As hurt as I am, at the end of the day, I’m glad that his uncle is back. Can I really fault him for getting caught up in something as big as that?
“Come on,” I say, hooking my head toward the nursing home. Another wave of relief crosses his face as he falls into step beside me.
“You really need to work on your communication skills,” I mutter under my breath.
“I know,” he sighs. “I’m…I’m not used to other people depending on me.”
I know he doesn’t say it for sympathy, but I feel it just the same. I reach between us and thread my fingers through his, needing to feel him, as he pulls the door open for us.
The reality of this moment hits me, and I tighten my grip on his hand. As much as I was prepared to do this myself—and I’m proud of myself for making it as far as I did—I’m grateful that he’s here now. I draw strength from his presence as we make our way up to Mom’s floor. My chest feels heavier with each step I take, and years’ worth of avoidance tries to convince me to turn around and run. But I stand firm, determined to at least try today.
It’s the least I can do.
The elevator dings once we reach her floor, and I spot my dad as soon as the door opens. He’s leaning over the counter of the nurse’s station, chatting amicably, and straightens as soon as he sees us.
“Hey, Dad.” I wrap him in a one-armed hug, keeping a tight grip on Cole’s hand. I’m not ready to let go yet.
When he pulls back, Dad’s eyes are red around the rims. “Thanks for coming, honey.”
I nod, unable to force actual words out of my tight throat at the moment. Dad nods in greeting to Cole and then points to the room I once visited frequently—one I haven’t seen in years. A wave of guilt presses on me along with a fresh bubbling of nerves.
“Do you want me to come in with you, or do you want some time alone?” Cole whispers in my ear.
“Alone,” I reply, looking up at him. “Thank you, but…I need to do this part alone.”
He squeezes my hand, holding my gaze intently, letting me be the first to let go. With a deep inhale, I inch slowly toward the door.
Pushing it open softly, I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing myself for what state she might be in. The door creaks as I let it shut behind me. Slowly, I peel one eye open at a time, holding my breath as I immediately zero in on Mom, who’s lying in the hospital bed.
Tears prick at my eyes, and my chest feels impossibly tight as I force myself forward. Mom looks almost the same as the last time I saw her. Her hair is a bit longer, and her skin is a few shades paler, but not much else has changed. I can’t decide if that’s comforting or not.
As I walk, Mom’s eyes track me slightly, but there’s no sign of recognition on her face. Her expression is stoic and empty, which sends a sharp pang of grief to my heart.
Finding my legs are much too wobbly to stand, I slide slowly into the chair that’s set up next to her bedside. After a few quiet moments, I open my mouth to say something, but again, I can’t force anything to come out. I clamp my mouth shut and sit there in silence, feeling like the oxygen is rapidly depleting from the room.
All these years of avoiding this moment, and it’s finally here…and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.
I study her hairline, the way her hair curls at her shoulders, rising and falling with her breath. She stares straight ahead, and I wonder if she even notices that someone is still in the room.
After several minutes of staring—her at the wall, and me at her—I lean against the back of the chair and rub my snowflake necklace between my fingers.
I’m not sure what prompts me to pull the journal from Blair out of my purse, but I act on the random impulse and open it.
I’ve hovered a pen over the second blank page many times over the last few weeks, but something has blocked me from writing every single time. This time, though, I’m surprised when the words actually come easily.
Hi, Mom.
An invisible weight lifts ever so slightly, even though it hurts to do so. I immediately put the pen back to the paper, not bothering to wipe away the tears that have started streaming down my face.
I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come. I haven’t found the strength to until now.
It feels good to purge the words onto the page. It’s an emotional release, and I push on, writing as fast as I can.
I hope it’s okay that I write to you like this. It’s the easiest way for me, I think.
So…I guess I should catch you up on my life and what I’ve been up to since I was here last. I finished my architecture degree and have been working at a firm downtown. I wish I could show you some of my latest designs. I think you’d really like some of them.
I’m sure Dad and Graham have told you already, but we’re renovating Ruby Lodge. It’s going to be incredible when it’s all finished, Mom. I wish you could see it.
I’m sort of seeing someone—at least I think I am. It’s complicated.
I glance up at Mom, who’s moving her head side to side nonchalantly, scanning the room.
I love you.
I shut the journal and sit with her in the quiet for a few moments, feeling emotionally exhausted from the purge. Eventually, I slip the journal back into my purse and walk slowly across the room, feeling ready yet also reluctant to leave.
My legs feel heavy as a part of me wants to stay here in this room with her forever. It has taken me this long to get here…now I’m not sure how I’m supposed to leave.
I force myself to put one foot in front of the other, and with one last glance back at Mom, I head back out into the hallway.
Cole meets me immediately, lightly gripping my elbow.
“Are you okay?” he whispers. His presence feels like a steady wall, and I gravitate toward his comfort as he pulls me into a hug.
“Yeah,” I croak out against his chest. I squeeze my eyes tight, emotion rising uncontrollably in my chest.
“Did it go okay?” Dad asks. When I pull away from Cole, I see the worry etched on his forehead.
“About as good as it could go,” I reply shakily. All of a sudden, my flight response kicks in, and I desperately need to get out of this building. “I need to go. I’ll talk to you later, Dad. Love you.”
“Love you, honey,” he calls as Cole and I turn toward the elevator.
Cole presses the button, and we ride down in silence while I process everything that just happened. What it felt like to be in the same room as her. A lone tear runs down my face, and I push my eyes closed, experiencing a new wave of grief that I’ve been trying to suppress for years now.
When we reach the lobby, I numbly follow half a step behind Cole. The outline of the furniture in the lobby looks blurred at the edges as I struggle to focus.
“Hey.” Cole turns to me as we step outside. I look up, meeting his gaze, locking in on it.
“I have another place I’d like to show you.”