Chapter 3
three
My brain is on autopilot. I barely remember packing or getting into my car to start the almost four-hour drive to my hometown. Probably the first time I’ve driven significantly over the speed limit, not caring if I get pulled over.
My eyes are swollen from crying, and my heart hasn’t stopped racing since I talked to the nurse.
I’m assuming the worst because it’s what I do best. It doesn’t help that the worst usually happens to me.
I have multiple examples from the past thirty-four years to prove it.
It’s what drives my perfectionism and obsession with planning, providing me with the illusion of control.
I attempt to multitask on the drive, using my hands-free to call a few colleagues to let them know why I ran out of the office like a bat out of hell.
I’ve tasked Jeremy with being my proxy for the next few days until I have a better handle on the situation.
He assured me that he and the team can tackle anything that comes their way.
He’s not wrong, but relying on him makes me uncomfortable.
Relying on anyone makes me uncomfortable.
It’s why I struggle to take a vacation and actually unplug. Preferring to stay connected, ensuring I never delay the team’s progress. It’s a horrible habit, but I fail miserably every time I try to break it.
I call Brian last, knowing the small amount of composure I’ve maintained this afternoon will crumble as soon as I hear his voice.
“Hey, beautiful,” Brian says warmly after he answers on the third ring. “How’s your day?”
All the emotions I kept under control for the past hour flood out of me all at once in a soul-crushing sob.
When I spoke to my colleagues, I pretended I wasn’t terrified.
Thankfully, I don’t have to do that with Brian.
I can let my guard down a little, not all the way, but enough to allow myself to express how I feel.
“What’s wrong?” Brian asks, his voice full of concern.
“There’s been—” I let out another loud sob as tears stream down my face faster than they have all day.
“Take a deep breath. You need to calm down so I can understand you.”
I inhale deeply and wipe the tears from my eyes, reminding myself to concentrate on the road ahead.
“Can you tell me what’s going on?”
“There was a car accident,” I blurt out.
“Oh my God! You were in an accident! Are you okay?”
I take another deep breath, attempting to center myself so I can answer his questions without breaking down again. “Not me. My mom. I’m on my way there now,” I reply shakily.
“Oh, Kate. I’m so sorry. What can I do to help?”
“Nothing. I’m not sure what I’m going to find when I get to the hospital. My mom was rushed into emergency surgery a few hours ago. I haven’t heard anything since. I’m scared she’s…”
“It’s going to be okay. You have to keep that mindset.
Don’t assume the worst,” Brian suggests calmly over the faint clacking of his keyboard in the background.
“I want you to focus on the rest of the drive and let me know when you get there. Call me with any updates. Can you do that for me, beautiful?”
Nodding, I press my lips together tightly.
I want nothing more than to have him stay on the phone with me for the rest of the drive, but I know it’s safer if I’m focused on the road rather than talking with him or anyone else.
He’s always looking out for me, one of the many reasons why I’m blessed to have him as my fiancé.
“I’ll text you when I get there. I love you, Brian. ”
“I love you. Drive safely,” Brian says before ending the call and leaving me alone with my thoughts for the remainder of the drive.
I want Brian by my side. This is one of those moments when I would benefit from his touch.
He has such a calming presence on my soul, allowing me to feel safe and loved when my anxiety starts to skyrocket.
Unfortunately, it’s the start of tax season.
His priority for the next few months will be work, making it unlikely he’ll be able to join me.
I get it. Career comes first for him and his family, especially during tax season.
Doesn’t make this situation any easier. I’d give anything not to be alone when I walk into the hospital and find out what will likely be the worst news of my life.
Deep breaths.
I can do this.
Everything is going to be okay.
I will accept no other option.
I finish the drive in silence. It’s not until I pull into a spot in the hospital parking lot that I begin to cry again as the gravity of the situation hits me like a freight train.
After inhaling and exhaling deeply for a few minutes, forcing my emotions into a box, I wipe the tears from my eyes and get out of the car.
I can do this.
One foot in front of the other.
My leg bounces uncontrollably as I sit in the emergency room waiting area, expecting my mom’s surgeon at any moment.
The nurses couldn’t tell me anything more than what I already knew.
Every passing minute lets my mind spiral further, creating an obscene number of ways this situation will end poorly.
Each one worse than the last. My imagination might be a blessing when it comes to the creative aspect of my career, but it’s definitely a curse in situations like this.
This is one of the few times when I see the appeal of siblings.
Having someone sit beside me in the freezing hospital waiting room.
Someone to share the pain with. Be a shoulder to cry on.
I used to have someone like that. He made me feel like I never missed out on anything by being an only child, but that’s in the past. Jake hasn’t been part of my life for almost fifteen years, and I can’t imagine that ever changing.
I scan the room and land on a doctor wearing dark blue scrubs approaching the nurses’ station. When a nurse nods in my direction, I know he’s been operating on my mom. The tension and weariness on his face aren’t giving me good vibes, and I realize the next few minutes will likely change my life.
“Kate Carpenter?” the unfamiliar doctor asks as he approaches.
“That’s me. How’s my mom?”
“Let’s go to a private room.”
Oh God. Private rooms are never a good sign. “Okay,” I murmur, following him down a hallway and into a small conference room.
“Your mom was in a car accident this morning and sustained several significant internal injuries as well as multiple broken bones. Her condition rapidly deteriorated, requiring emergency surgery. The surgery went well, but she’ll have a long, hard road to recovery,” the doctor explains calmly.
My heart breaks, imagining my mom’s battered body slumped over the steering wheel, unable to move until paramedics extracted her from the car. Gently, I shake my head, trying to force the haunting image from my mind. “How much longer until I can see her?”
“Probably a few hours. She’s headed to the ICU. They’ll want to make sure she’s comfortable before allowing visitors.”
“But she’s going to survive?” My voice cracks as I ask the question.
“Yes. Your mom will recover eventually.”
Relief courses through me as I exhale, and the tension slowly starts to fade from my shoulders.
I can handle a long recovery. Anything is better than the alternative.
I’ll figure out how to work remotely so I can stay with her.
Immediately, my mind goes into planning mode before the doctor interrupts my thoughts.
“There’s one more thing we should discuss,” he begins, pausing briefly and focusing his eyes on mine. “Your mom wasn’t alone in the car.”
“What do you mean? Who was with her?”
“Normally, I wouldn’t share this information, but we’ve tried to reach her next of kin multiple times. I’m new in town, so I don’t know everyone. However, I’ve been assured you’re basically family and may be the best person to get hold of him.”
My stomach sinks. I know what he’s about to say before he opens his mouth. Tears start streaming down my face again as I close my eyes, trying to wish away this moment. Praying I’m wrong.
“Judy Caldwell was also in the car. Her injuries were more severe than your mom’s. We did everything we could, but she didn’t make it.”
I nod, unable to speak. What do you say when the woman who was your second mom for thirty years dies?
There are no words to describe the pure devastation.
Tears fall faster, and erratic breathing leads to full-on sobbing.
My body shakes as I sit in a bright, poorly decorated room with a doctor who doesn’t know me, my mom, or Judy.
He likely won’t remember this moment years from now, but it will be etched into my soul for a lifetime.
“I’m sorry for your loss. I’ll give you some time.” He gently pats me on the shoulder and leaves the room.
The door closes quietly behind him, and I sob harder.
This can’t be happening.
She can’t be gone.
A few days ago, she was ganging up on me with my mom about wedding planning. Now I’ll never talk to her again.
And… Oh my God. Jake doesn’t know.
I replay the doctor’s words in my head. The hospital couldn’t get a hold of Judy’s next of kin. He meant Jake.
Does this mean I’ll have to break the news to him? Tell the man who wants nothing to do with me that his mom died. The first conversation we’ll have in more than a decade will be me delivering the worst news possible.
The mere thought of that conversation breaks me.
Snot drips from my nose, and tears cascade down my face as my body shakes forcibly.
I try to muffle the anguish coming out of me, but it’s impossible.
My heart hurts too much, and I don’t care what anyone else thinks. This is the shittiest day of my life.
And I’m all alone.
I force myself to take a deep breath as I listen to the phone ring. Please pick up. Please pick up. I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t answer.
“Hey, beautiful. How’s your mom?” Brian says, answering on the fourth ring.
“She’s out of surgery, and she’ll have a long road to recovery, but…she wasn’t alone in the car. Judy was with her,” I say, breaking into sobs once again. “She didn’t make it.”
Saying it out loud somehow makes her death real. Permanent. I suddenly become extremely nauseous, pressing a hand to my stomach, willing myself not to throw up. Sobbing on the phone to Brian is bad enough; the last thing he needs to hear is me retching.
“Oh God, Kate. I’m so sorry. I know how close you and your mom were to Judy.
I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you,” Brian replies compassionately.
I squeeze my eyes shut and press my lips together at the finality of how he talked about Judy.
The small shift in verb tenses takes my breath away.
“I wish I could be there to support you. I would be if it weren’t tax season.
You know how busy this time of year is. My father would lose his shit if I left town.
” Brian lets out a deep sigh. “I absolutely hate that you’re going through this alone. ”
“I wish you…you…were…here, too. I don’t know what to do. How do I handle all of this by myself?”
“Take a deep breath. You can do this,” he says reassuringly. “You need to focus on your mom and helping her get better.”
“I know. I just… Someone has to tell him. He doesn’t know.”
“Who doesn’t know?”
“Jake. He’s Judy’s son. The hospital couldn’t reach him. They told me instead. I’m going to have to tell him.” I sob harder. The walls feel like they’re closing in on me. “I have to tell him his mom died. How do I break that news? I’m not prepared for something like this.”
“Take a deep breath. You need to calm down before you make yourself sick. You can do this,” Brian replies, ever the confident guy who easily finds a solution to every problem, who never lets anything in life get him down.
The strong man I’m going to marry. “You just need to take a few minutes to get yourself together. Check on your mom, see how she’s doing.
Then, you can deal with Judy’s son. I didn’t even realize she had a son. Are they estranged?”
“No. He’s just not around much due to his career.
” It’s the simplest answer to explain Jake’s situation.
Brian doesn’t need the long-winded version of what happened and how Jake cut everyone out of his life.
Except his mom. Judy would never let that happen.
She’s relentless about calling him multiple times a week, refusing to let him go more than two weeks without talking to her.
Or she was. She won’t be making those calls anymore. To Jake or anyone else.
“That makes sense. I can relate to having your career come first. I can’t believe the hospital would make you call him. It feels like they’re shirking their responsibilities. They’re trained to handle these difficult conversations.”
“They tried calling him a few times, but he never answered. Everyone in town knows how close our families are.” I force myself to take a few deep breaths, pressing my back into the plastic chair and wiping the tears from my face with the sleeve of my sweater.
“I really wish I could be there for you,” he repeats. “I hate that this is happening during my busy season and I can’t leave.”
“I know you’d be here if you could.” Or, at least, I think he would.
Sure, he doesn’t take care of me when I get sick because he doesn’t want to catch it, but this is different.
It’s a major emergency. The first we’ve experienced as a couple.
If it weren’t tax season, he’d be by my side.
Helping me through this. That’s what couples do.
It’s what he would do if this were any other time.
There’s a rustling of papers in the background, so he’s likely at his desk, multitasking while he talks to me. “I hate to do this, but I need to run. I have a meeting starting in a couple of minutes. I’ll call you tonight. I love you.”
“I love you,” I say, tears still streaming down my face as Brian hangs up.
Talking to him made me feel a little better.
He’s right.
I can do this.
I’ll make a plan.
Find out about my mom’s injuries and what type of long-term care she’ll need.
Determine how to work remotely. It won’t be ideal, but taking months off work isn’t an option financially.
I can work on wedding planning from here, too. We’ve already picked out the venue. Most of the remaining to-do items can be done online. Brian can take the lead on any tasks requiring an in-person visit.
I’ll find a way to get in touch with Jake and tell him what happened. It won’t be an easy conversation, but I’d rather be the one to tell him than have someone from the hospital share the news.
He’s going to be devastated. First, his dad, now his mom.
How do you tell someone their parent died? How was the doctor able to make it seem so effortless?
I’ll figure it out. The right words will come to me. They’ll have to. I don’t have any other choice.