Chapter 32
Sadie dragged her gaze away from Todd’s intense stare, her eyes roaming the sterile hospital room as she gathered courage for what she needed to say.
The room was cast in clinical whites and grays, the antiseptic smell triggering memories she’d spent almost two years trying to bury.
Her fingers worried the edge of the thin hospital blanket, seeking comfort in the familiar gesture while her mind wrestled with a vulnerability she rarely allowed anyone to witness.
“I hate hospitals,” she said abruptly, the words escaping before she could soften them with context or explanation.
She felt Todd’s body jerk at her seemingly random declaration, and she realized how jarring the subject change must seem after his heartfelt confession. Turning back to meet his gaze, she saw confusion flickering in those eyes that had become so precious to her over the months.
He deserves to understand. He deserves to know why I am the way I am.
“My dad was never around much,” she began, her voice steadying as she committed to the story she’d never told anyone at LSIMT.
“He traveled for his job, gone weeks at a time. But then he left for good when I was five. I remember coming home from kindergarten one day, and Mom was crying in the kitchen, still wearing her work clothes like she’d just collapsed into the chair without changing. ”
The memory was sharp despite the decades that had passed. She could still see her mother’s shoulders shaking, mascara streaked down her cheeks, the way the afternoon sunlight streamed through their small kitchen window, making everything look too bright.
“I asked her why she was crying. Mom said that Dad had left and wasn’t coming back.
He was gone so much anyway that I didn’t think about it for a while.
But when a month passed and he still hadn’t come home, I asked about him again.
By then, she was no longer crying, but I could tell she was angry.
At first, I was afraid she was angry with me, but she assured me her anger was toward him. ”
“And your dad? What happened?” Todd asked, his voice gentle, making her chest tight with gratitude.
“She just said he wasn’t coming back. I was in middle school when I learned the whole truth.
He had another family. He’d been a traveling salesman for a pharmaceutical company and had met another woman around the time I was born.
She got pregnant, and I suppose he promised her that if she had a son, he’d leave his wife and daughter.
” The familiar bitterness crept into her voice despite her efforts to maintain emotional distance from the story.
“As you can imagine the story would go, they had a son. Four years younger than me. So on that day when I came home from kindergarten, he had cleaned out his belongings, loaded his car, and when Mom got off work, he informed her he was leaving. Told her about his son like it was just another business arrangement.”
“What an asshole!” Todd growled, his protective fury evident.
The vehemence in his voice startled a laugh from her throat, genuine amusement cutting through the pain of old wounds.
“You’ve got that right. I was so hurt when I learned the truth.
Not just that he’d left, but that he didn’t even say goodbye to me.
Mom always told me it was because he loved me dearly and knew that if he saw me, it would make it so much harder to leave.
” She shrugged, the gesture carrying decades of uncertainty.
“I have no idea if that’s true or not. I occasionally got a birthday card from him over the years, but before I even graduated from high school, he died of lung cancer.
He’d been a smoker for years despite Mom begging him to quit when I was little. ”
Her fingers continued their restless movement against the blanket, the repetitive motion helping to anchor her as she navigated memories that still carried sharp edges.
“Mom said his new wife called once to see if we wanted to meet, since I technically had a half brother. Mom asked, and I said no.” The exhale that escaped her carried the weight of choices that couldn’t be unmade.
“I could have chosen to meet my stepbrother when I became an adult, but I never felt the urge to. His dad might have been my biological father, but our experiences were vastly different. Dad paid little in alimony or child support. Mom was my family, and that was that.”
“Did your mom ever remarry?” Todd asked, his voice carrying genuine curiosity rather than pity, which she appreciated more than he could know.
Sadie shook her head, her brow furrowing as she considered the question she’d wondered about countless times during her teenage years.
“No, and as far as I know, she never even dated seriously. I honestly don’t think it was because she was holding on to hope that he might come back, or that she loved him so desperately she could never see herself with another man.
By the time I was an adult and could look at the situation through mature eyes, it was simply because Mom no longer felt like she needed a man in her life.
She was independent and strong. We had a great relationship and a lot of fun together. ”
The memories of her mother’s transformation from heartbroken wife to confident single woman brought warmth to her chest. “She moved to Florida when I went into the service after college. Made friends, had Bingo nights, boating excursions, and learned how to line dance. Her life was full and fun, and after having given her heart to a man who essentially abandoned it, she claimed she didn’t want to open herself to that kind of pain again.
Then she’d always laugh and say that as long as I was in her life, she didn’t need anything else. ”
“And you?” Todd asked the simple question carrying weight that made her pulse quicken.
She chuckled, recognizing the psychological assessment implicit in his inquiry.
“I know you probably think I have daddy issues, but he was gone so much when I was younger and then completely absent after I was five. I barely remembered him as a person. He was more like a shadow that occasionally moved through our house. My real memories were always of Mom. She was the one who sat in the stands at track meets, cheering me on, going with me to pick out my prom dress, and beaming with pride at my college graduation. It was just me and Mom, and that was enough.”
The truth of that statement resonated through her bones. Her mother had been both parents, provider and nurturer, disciplinarian and cheerleader. Their relationship had been the foundation upon which Sadie had built her understanding of love and loyalty.
“Are you and your mother still close?”
Pain lanced through her heart like a physical wound, sharp and immediate despite the time that had passed.
Her throat constricted with emotion she’d learned to manage but never fully overcome.
“I worked CIA special ops for a couple of years after I left the service, but resigned when Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. But by the time she told me about it, she only had six months left. I had planned on getting out of the career anyway, but I thought she and I would have years together for whatever came next. Instead, I spent those final months in Florida taking care of her.”
“Fuck, Sadie, I’m so sorry,” Todd said, his voice rough with sympathy that made her eyes burn with unshed tears.
“Don’t be sorry about me taking care of her,” she said firmly, needing him to understand the distinction.
“In truth, it was an honor to take care of the woman who had given birth to me and raised me. She always let me know I was loved and wanted and valued. It wasn’t a duty, but out of love that I wanted to be with her in the end.
I confess, though, that I hated where we were living. ”
The memories of those suffocating months flooded back—the oppressive heat that seemed to press against her skin like a living thing, the crowds that made simple errands feel like military operations, the constant noise that prevented the kind of quiet reflection she craved during such an emotional time.
“She lived in a senior villa community in central Florida. The people were lovely… really kind to both of us, bringing casseroles and offering to help with anything we needed. But it was hot and crowded and bustling with activity twenty-four hours a day. Sometimes when I’d walk out of the house needing a breath of fresh air, there was none to be found.
Just heat and humidity, and always someone around.
I had to fight through traffic to get to the grocery store, the pharmacy, or the doctor’s office.
And then there was the hospital.” She shuddered, the institutional smells and sounds flooding back with visceral intensity.
Understanding dawned across Todd’s features like sunrise, his expression softening with compassion as he leaned forward and captured her restless hand in his warm grip. “And that’s why you hate hospitals.”
“Yes,” she confirmed, grateful that he understood without requiring a detailed explanation.
“The smells and the crowds, the fluorescent lighting that makes everything look overly harsh. Eating cafeteria food that tasted like cardboard while feeling guilty because Mom couldn’t keep anything down.
The endless waiting, the beeping machines, the constant parade of medical staff speaking in clinical terms about the woman who meant everything to me. ”
Her voice grew softer, more vulnerable, as she approached the heart of her story.
“But I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Finally, when the pain medication couldn’t help anymore and we both knew the time had come, I climbed into the narrow hospital bed with her and held her as she took her last breath. ”