I touched him.
It was a little over a week ago, but my skin still radiates from the contact.
He lost his temper with Micah at school, and I had to pull him back before he did something stupid. I grabbed his arm. I even said his name after promising myself I wouldn’t utter it again. But I did, and I immediately felt the effects.
Like air flowing with a vengeance through the punctured holes of my heart, it stung and reminded me that I still missed him.
I didn’t need the reminder, though. The loss is ever-present.
My laughs are forced. My smiles are fake. But the loneliness that follows me around is so very real.
It’s February now. A solid month has passed since we broke up, and I still can’t seem to get over him. Although the initial anger and shock have worn off, what I’m left with feels far worse. It’s the exposed wound beneath the madness that I must deal with. Sometimes at night, I lie in bed and think about the same things I used to when I found out about him and Katy. I never asked who it was he cheated on me with, but I wonder how it happened and where it happened. Was it loving? Was it fast? Was it slow? Did he hold her when it was over? I make myself sick with the million questions that plague me, mock me, and remind me that no matter how much he claimed he loved me, his hands never touched me like they’ve touched others.
And then there’s the vile of jealously. It’s a putrid cocktail I’m forced to swallow every day, and I’m so far beyond ready to move on. He destroyed my self-worth, and the aftermath has been a detrimental slap in my face, and I need to find a way to let go of him.
In an attempt to do just that, I called his mother a couple days ago to make sure she’d be at the apartment after school today. Several of my belongings are still over there, and it’s time I pick them up. Knowing Kason would be working, I told her I’d be stopping by.
It’s strange to be sitting in this parking lot, staring up the stairs that lead to the apartment I used to love coming to. There was no better feeling than to be in Kason’s space, a world he kept private from everyone but me. It felt special to see the side of him no one else got to. But all of that is gone now.
Needing to get this over with, I take a deep breath, step out of the car, and head up the stairs. When I knock and no one answers, I wait for a moment longer before knocking again. Still, no answer. I stare at my feet as they shift nervously beneath me, and when I turn to leave, the door finally opens.
All it takes is one look to see that Kason’s mom isn’t well. Her skin and even her eyes are . . . yellow. I’ve never in my life seen a person look this way, and I’m immediately concerned.
“Adaline?”
“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”
She’s disheveled, in her pajamas, and when I peer over her shoulder, I see all the lights are off in the apartment.
“What are you doing here?”
“We spoke a couple days ago, remember? You said I could stop by before you went to work.”
Her eyes shift down in confusion, and she widens the door to let me in.
“When did we speak?”
“On Sunday,” I mutter. “Don’t you remember?”
She blinks a few times as she tightens her bathrobe around her.
“Are you feeling okay?”
“I think I need a little breakfast.”
“It’s after four.”
“Four?”
“Are you not going to work?” I ask, because she’s normally dressed and getting ready to leave at this time.
“I just got off work.”
“From the call center?”
She looks around the apartment, completely disoriented. “I think so.”
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
Dragging her feet, she takes a few steps away from me before asking, “Are we supposed to be doing something?”
Everything coming out of her mouth is disjointed, and I’m worried something is very wrong. She looks ill. She’s always been on the thin side, but after a month of not seeing her, she’s dropped a lot of weight and her belly is protruding as if she were pregnant. But more than anything, it’s her confused state of mind that’s so alarming.
“No. Remember I told you that I needed to pick up a few of my things.”
“I think we have some eggs in the fridge,” she mumbles as she staggers into the kitchen, not making any sense whatsoever.
Uncertain of what is going on with her, I start walking back to Kason’s room when I hear a loud thud. I rush back to the kitchen and panic when I see her lying on the ground.
I run to her and drop to my knees. “Sharon, are you okay?” Her eyes are closed, and she doesn’t respond. My heart races in sheer fright as I jostle her shoulder. “Sharon, can you hear me?”
Oh my God! What do I do?
Rolling her on to her back, I drop my ear to her chest to hear that her heart is beating. Franticly, I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial nine-one-one.
As soon as the call connects, words fall from my mouth at a million miles per hour. Hysterical and wracked with chills, I pace back and forth, terrified to touch her as she lies lifelessly on the floor. It isn’t until I hear the sirens that I realize I’m crying.
In a wild madness, the apartment fills with a stretcher and paramedics, but I don’t even remember opening the door to let them in. They hover over her, and I sink to the floor in the corner of the room—petrified beyond comprehension that something awful has happened. My skin breaks out in a cold sweat as tears coat my cheeks, and somehow, I manage to find Kason’s number on my phone and call him.
“Adaline?”
“Kason, something’s happened to your mom.” I choke out the words and struggle to take in a decent breath.
“What are you talking about? Where are you?”
“I’m at your apartment. She was really confused and not making any sense and then she passed out.”
“She what?”
I gasp for air, but my lungs refuse to inflate, and I fight so hard just to draw in little jagged breaths.
I’m freaking out!
“Adaline! Are you okay?”
“I can’t-I can’t breathe-I-I . . .” My whole body erupts into prickling tingles, and the phone slips out of my fingers.
Everything dims, and all the commotion in the room tunnels far away.
“Can you talk to me? Tell me your name?”
I look up to find a man, but he’s static behind the blur in my eyes. Kneeling in front of me, he slips a mask over my nose and mouth as he instructs me to take in a couple of deep breaths. “I need you to look at me, okay? What’s your name, dear?”
I watch them strap Sharon to the gurney, but she swims out of focus when more tears flood my eyes.
My attention shifts back to the paramedic. “Ady Rees.”
“Ady, you’re experiencing a little bit of shock.” I look to my arm to find a blood pressure cuff. “I need you to take some deep breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth, okay?”
I take a slow blink and then bend to the side to lie down. “I don’t feel so good.”
There’s a bustling in the room seconds before Sharon is wheeled through the doorway. Then another paramedic comes to my side, and the two men help me to my feet and down the stairs.
“Where are we going?”
“We’re taking your mother to the hospital,” they tell me as they help me into the back of the ambulance.
I don’t correct them. Instead, I sit on the bench next to her and hope to God nothing life threatening is happening. My stomach churns as I watch them shove a needle into the top of her yellowed hand.
“Is she going to be okay?” I ask, but my voice doesn’t sound right.
“Can you tell me your mother’s name?” the same man that was asking me questions says, and again, I don’t correct him. I simply respond, “Sharon Stratton.”
“Is she allergic to any medications?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is she currently taking any medications?”
“I—I don’t know. She’s my boyfriend’s mom,” I stammer, instantly realizing my slip, but my head is all over the place.
“That’s okay,” he assures calmly. “Just sit back and relax. Your blood pressure is coming back up.”
I close my eyes, and when the ambulance comes to a halt, the doors fly open and she’s immediately pulled out and wheeled in to the ER. One of the paramedics tends to me, checking my blood pressure once more before removing the oxygen mask and escorting me inside.
“Are you feeling better?”
I take a seat on a couch in the waiting area and nod, because I do. Warmth has returned to my skin and the dizziness has subsided. The paramedic walks over to the attendee sitting at the desk, and I reach for my phone, but it isn’t in any of my pockets. I must’ve left it back at the apartment in the middle of all the chaos, and I don’t know what to do because I don’t have anyone’s phone number memorized. Not even my mother’s.
“Adaline.”
As soon as I see Kason rushing in, I’m flooded with emotions all over again, and without a single thought, I pop off the couch and run to him. The moment his arms are around me, I burst into tears as he holds me tighter than he ever has before.
I know I should pull away. I shouldn’t be this close to him, but after what just happened, I need the sliver of safety I find in his embrace. He doesn’t linger in it for too long, though, and I want to shrink away completely when I hear the fear in his voice. “Where’s my mom?”
I step back and away from his hold. “I don’t know. They rushed her in before I was allowed out of the ambulance.”
“Wait right here.”
He walks over to the desk, and I sit back down, confused by the maniacal feelings that are running rampant through me right now. I don’t know what to think or how to feel—about anything. It’s a swarm of intensity that has me frightened, and deep breaths do nothing to grant assuagement. And now, seeing Kason, hugging him . . . I shouldn’t have done that.
A nurse comes out to speak to Kason. I wish I knew what she was telling him. He looks in my direction for a second before turning back to her. After a few concerning nods, he comes over to me.
“Is everything okay?”
“They’re going to take me to see her. Will you wait until I come back before you leave?”
“Of course,” I tell him when I see the worry for his mother etched all over his face.
“Promise me, you won’t leave.”
“I promise. I can’t go anywhere anyway. I left everything back at your place.”
It’s easy to see his reluctance when he walks away from me, but he shouldn’t worry about me in this moment. He needs to focus on his mom.
I watch as the nurse leads him past the double doors, leaving me all alone as I try to process what could possibly be going on with his mother that would explain everything that just happened. Curling my legs up to my chest, I rest my head on the couch cushion and close my eyes, burdened by the urge to stay and hold up my promise when I know I probably shouldn’t. Because this isn’t my life anymore. It’s his, and the last thing I want to do is give him any remnant of false hope by staying.