CHAPTER 47
Palmer
“And Mouse has started this new thing where she pounces on any and all toys she has to see if they’ll squeak. It almost looks as if she’s doing the Heimlich.” I giggle, tracing Bailey’s palm. “It’s hilarious and super cute. I can’t wait for you to see it.”
The lump in my throat swells again, so I take a moment to adjust my chair closer to the side of the bed and clear my throat.
“Let’s see. What else has happened?” I muse aloud. “I’ve sent you probably a hundred videos and text messages, so we’ll have to watch those.”
Oh! And I’m pregnant, I think, the thought threatening to slip from my mouth for the umpteenth time in the past thirty minutes. I hear the door open and close behind me, but I don’t bother turning around. Lindy has popped in several times just to check on me, so I continue talking.
“The kids at school miss you. You know Jamari.” I smile and shake my head. “He’s trying to be a detective. Although, the closest he’s come to being right about where you went is guessing that you were a spy in the CIA.”
A high-pitched laugh rings out from behind me, and I jump, twisting in my seat. I expect to see a nurse, a little bit embarrassed by the fact that she just heard me talking to Bailey (even though it feels a lot like I’m just talking to myself).
The woman standing just inside the door wears dark jeans and a black jacket over a striped shirt. She wears her salt and pepper hair in a slicked back bun, and although her lips are spread into a small smile, it doesn’t hide the dark circles that look a lot like mine under her eyes.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” She walks around the bed then settles onto the couch on the other side, her gaze fixed on Bailey’s face, studying him. “They say it’s good to talk to him. That he can hear us.” She lets out a deep sigh. “Even if it doesn’t really feel that way, you know?”
I nod. “Yeah. I was just thinking that you probably think I’m nuts, because it sounds like I’m talking to myself.”
“Not at all. But I know the feeling.” The woman adjusts so that she sits farther back on the couch and turns to face me. “You must be Palmer.”
“Yes…” I drag out the last sound, the ending inflection tilting upward.
She lets out a small laugh. “Now you probably think I’m the crazy one. I’m Ofelia.”
I stare at her blankly, my brain struggling to process what I apparently should already know.
“Diaz. Bailey’s mom.”
“Oh my gosh!” I jolt upright and begin to ramble incoherently, making my way around the bed to shake her hand. “Of course! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to be rude. My dad would be so embarrassed right now. It’s so nice to meet you.”
Ofelia takes my hand in hers but instead of shaking it, she pulls me in for a hug.
The top of her head barely reaches my collarbone, but she squeezes me tightly.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she says earnestly when she steps back, her hands holding mine.
“I have heard so much about you. Come. Sit with me.” She gestures to the couch behind us.
As I fill the seat next to her, I find myself straightening my clothes, my hands brushing down the fabric to swipe away any wrinkles, despite the fact I’m in sweatpants.
Stupid nervous habit.
Ofelia smiles warmly at me, and I instantly feel the need to apologize again. She waves it off. “You weren’t rude at all. We’re all tired. It’s been a long…” She pauses. “Day?”
“You can say that again.”
She gazes over her shoulder at Bailey, nodding absently before turning back to face me. “I’m glad to finally get to meet the woman making my son the happiest I’ve ever seen him. Bailey has told me so much about you.”
I grimace awkwardly. “Hopefully all good things.”
“Only the best things.” She chuckles. “He says you’re a special education teacher and that you have a dog named Mouse. He also said you’re beautiful and funny and a good cook. Hm, let’s see, what else…”
“Well, you should know that he’s far too complimentary of me.” I can feel a blush stealing up my cheeks.
Ofelia continues, “He’s also told me that he’s absolutely crazy about you.”
Her words give me pause; I guess he really did mean it when he said he was in love with me. At least enough to tell his mom about me.
“He’s actually the catch between the two of us,” I say, studying the rise and fall of his chest, willing him to open his eyes. “Bailey is kind and thoughtful and wonderful and—” Tears spill down my cheeks, blurring the room around me. “And I’m in love with him.”
Ofelia’s hand rests softly on my arm. “Would you like a hug, Palmer?”
I nod, my breath a ragged inhale. Her arms wrap around my shoulders, and I lean heavily against her, sobs racking my body. The hug makes me cry harder, but Ofelia just holds me tighter, her quiet strength surrounding us both.
After a few minutes, my cries begin to subside, and I wipe my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I whisper shamefully.
She looks at me, understanding on her face. “No need to apologize. I completely understand where you’re coming from. This”—she gestures with her chin—“isn’t exactly easy.”
We sit in silence for a moment, then I ask the question I’ve been both dying and scared to know the answer to since early this morning. “Ms. Diaz,” I start.
“Please, Ofelia is fine. Ms. Diaz is my mother.”
Her joke makes me crack a smile. “Right. Ofelia. I’m not exactly sure how to ask this…”
“Just ask it.” She shrugs.
“Okay,” I muse, trying to find a way to put it delicately, but quickly realizing there isn’t one. “What… what’s wrong with him?”
The question wipes any hint of humor from her face, and she releases a belabored sigh. “A lot.”
“I know there was an explosion,” I start.
Ofelia closes her eyes against my words, as if that will stop them from reaching her ears.
“Yes, there was. I’m not sure what caused it, but it did a lot of damage.
When the doctor explained it, they used a lot of medical terminology, but I think I got the gist of it.
Off the top of my head, I know they said he has a TBI.
He has a collapsed lung and a variety of cuts and bruises all over. ”
She takes a deep breath before continuing, her voice shaky.
“The explosion mangled both of his legs. Badly. He lost his right leg below the knee and his left leg nearly at his hip.” Her bottom lip starts to quiver.
“They put him in a medically induced coma because of the combined trauma of it all, but they don’t… they don’t know—”
A tear slides down her cheek. She doesn’t need to finish her sentence; I already know how it ends.
They don’t know if he’ll make it, and if he does, they don’t know how he’ll be.
We leave that part hanging in the air between us, as if by ignoring it, we can prevent it from happening
“I never told him.” The words slip out unbidden, and I cover my mouth with my hand.
Ofelia looks at me with glossy, red-rimmed eyes. “Told him what?”
The air feels thick and heavy, like trying to breathe in water. “Bailey told me he loved me. Before he left. But I… I didn’t say it back. Because I was scared.”
She studies me intently.
“And now, what if…” I leave the rest of my question unsaid.
“Palmer.” Ofelia scoots closer to me and turns toward me “You may not have said it, sweetheart, but you’re here.”
She swipes her thumbs along my cheeks, wiping the tears on the denim of her pants before putting both hands on either side of my face and bringing my eyes to hers.
“He knows, Palmer. Trust me.”