I snorted, but the sound was clogged with emotion. “Ready or not, right? I just wished I felt… different.”
Leslie and I also talked about this on the plane. My ambivalence. The contradictions between all the emotions I was feeling about my mother.
I wanted to focus on the love, because I knew there was still love in my heart for her somewhere. It was buried beneath the guilt. The hate. The embarrassment. The responsibility. But it was there. Surely, it was there. If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t have been so torn. So emotional. Right?
Besides, I knew what real love was like.
Or had I just confused love with sex… just like my mother?
No. I tightened my arm around Leslie’s. I loved my friend. So, I did know love. Pure love. Not the love that expected something in return.
And it was a mutual attachment. If what Gray said was true… and I believed it to be true… he had felt not only an immediate attraction to me through the lens of that camera, but an immediate attachment. Like he wanted the best for me. Wanted to make sure I was okay.
If he’d wanted to hurt me, or simply just fuck me, he would have taken advantage of our isolation weeks ago. He would have knocked on my door, seduced me into his bed then.
He hadn’t.
He’d simply watched over me. Then risked his own life to save me. Cared for me. Tried hard not to touch me.
I smiled.
Okay… maybe he could have tried a little harder not to touch me, but I didn’t make it easy for him since I practically threw myself into his arms.
His arms.
I missed his arms. His smell. His taste. The little gap between his teeth.
And I didn’t even have his phone number.
How silly was that?
“We’re here.”
I focused on our surroundings after allowing Leslie to just lead me to where we needed to go. I blinked at the sign. Intensive Care Unit.
Pulling my bag higher on my shoulder, I let out a long breath. “Let’s go.”
Leslie pushed the button to announce our arrival. A minute later, the double doors clicked and began to open. We were greeted by a nurse who gave me a tight smile, her eyes flicking down my body.
I stiffened.
She knew. Of course, she knew who I was — the porn queen’s daughter. And in a glance, she had judged me as no better than the queen herself. It didn’t matter that I wore a simple maxi dress that fell to my toes, a cardigan to cover my arms. It didn’t matter that I wore no makeup and that my hair was pulled back in a ponytail.
I was the spawn. Cyn’s sin.
As I’d done so many times in the past, I attempted to ignore it. Lifting my chin, I followed her to a room as a steady beep… beep… beep… made its presence known.
There she was.
An older version of me, lying so still, her face as peaceful as a doll’s. Tubes ran from all directions, including the respirator attached to her throat.
Up.
Down.
Her chest was the only thing that moved, in time to the sucking and hissing of the machine.
In.
Out.
Life giving oxygen was pushed through her body. Poisonous carbon dioxide flowing out.
Her heart continued to beat. The proof was on the monitor over her head.
But she wasn’t alive, I knew. The part that made a human lay before me. The part that made her a human being had already left the vessel in which it had dwelled.
I wasn’t sure what I thought about the afterlife, but if there was any truth to reincarnation, I hoped the soul that left this being found a safer, more hospitable place to land next time.
I hoped there wasn’t a hell. Earth had been enough of one for my mother.
Maybe it would be better if, after death, there was nothing. Nothing seemed better than fire licking at your skin.
“The doctor will be here in a few moments,” the nurse said, snapping on a pair of gloves before touching the tubes coming from Mom’s arm.
“Thank you.”
Her gaze softened. Sherry, it said on her name tag. “Can I get you anything? Water? A soft drink? Juice?”
I met her eyes and shook my head. “No, but thank you. I appreciate the offer.”
Leslie shook her head too, and the nurse left us alone.
The doctor appeared, introduced himself as Dr. Martins. “I’m sorry, but the news isn’t good.”
I’d already known that, of course. Had prepared myself for it.
“She looks alive,” I murmured, reaching for her hand. “She’s warm.”
I didn’t know what I’d expected.
“Yes,” Dr. Martins agreed. “But your mother has no brain activity. She’s gone. Only the life support that is circulating her blood is giving the illusion of life.”
Illusion.
Life is but a dream.
The childhood song ran on repeat in my head as the doctor explained the process of letting her go officially. Just a flip of a switch and she’d go from alive to dead in that instant.
I just had to tell them to do it. Tell him to officially kill my mother.
Did that make me a killer too?
Was that part of the gray area Leslie spoke of?
Gray.
Oh, how I wished he was here.
“When?”
The doctor frowned. “When what, Miss Meadows?”
“When do I have to tell you to turn the machines off?”
He looked at Leslie then back at me. “Well, to be honest, there is no timeframe. Today would be best. Tomorrow at the latest. There really is no reason to leave her to suffer.”
That thought was disturbing. “Is she suffering?”
He cleared his throat. “No. That was more metaphorical than real. To suffer, one must have the conscious ability to feel or experience pain. Your mother is outside that ability now.”
The bag on my shoulder felt heavier and I set it down on the chair. My laptop was inside. Suddenly, I knew what I wanted to do.
“I need to finish something before I let her go. It should only take the rest of the day.”
I felt both Leslie’s and the doctor’s eyes on me, but I was only looking at Mom.
“Of course,” the doctor murmured and left.
“Do you need me to stay?” Leslie asked.
I squeezed her arm tighter. “Yes,” I said and hugged her to me. “But go. I need to do this myself.”
She kissed my cheek and left.
Sitting down by Mom’s bed, I took my laptop out of the case.
When the manuscript for “Come Closer,” opened, I placed my fingers on the keypad and began to type.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Gray
I’d sworn that I’d never come back to this city again, and as the plane touched down at JFK airport, I was cursing myself for making the trip.
But I had to.
Needed to.
I’d known it as soon as Zoe stepped out of my door. As much as I’d wanted to run after her first, I had some business to do. And that business needed to be conducted personally, here in New York. After a night of little sleep and a whiskey hangover pounding in my head, I was here.
It was surprisingly warm for late October — especially after where I’d come from — as I hailed a cab and settled back into NYC traffic hell. That much hadn’t changed.
“Where to, pal?”
I smiled. “Martial Vivot’s”
He laughed. “I was thinkin’ yoos could use a little cut and a shave.”