THREE YEARS AGO

APRIL 2014

“How was your day?” Mom asks as I shovel a forkful of mashed potatoes in my mouth.

I force myself to swallow. “Great. Passed my chemistry test and finished a drawing in art class I’ve been working on for two months.” There’s an art show in less than three weeks and the grand prize is a scholarship. It’s not much, but it will help with the cost of tuition.

I was accepted to Savannah College of Art and Design three months ago. When I ripped open the letter and read, ‘Congratulations!’, I let out squeal of excitement, clutching the letter in my hands like a lifeline.

“When can I see it?” she inquires, light pouring out of her eyes–pure excitement and pride.

“It still needs some finishing touches.” I take a gulp of water before continuing. “You should wait until the show.” Really, I’m nervous to show anyone what I’ve been working on. It’s a common fear. Judgement. Laying it all out on the line for hundreds of eyes to decide in a split second whether your piece is worthy of their time.

“I can’t wait. I know it’s going to be brilliant,” she beams.

I nod, not saying anything because sometimes it’s hard for me to accept praise, to have other people think what I created was beautiful, that it touched them and made them feel something.

She stares at me with stars in her eyes, ignoring the food on her plate. “What am I going to do when you’re gone? My only baby, leaving me behind to conquer the world.”

My stomach sinks because there’s that, too. I’m stepping out of the world I know and in something that will shape me into someone else–teach me how to be better in all aspects. As an artist, person, and worker because I plan on working my ass off every second I’m there.

But I’m also leaving Mom. I’m leaving her with Dad–her husband. A husband who doesn’t love her the way he should. A husband who ignores her while he mopes around the house because he lost his job eight months ago. He was the manager of an accounting firm, but I’m not sure why he got laid off. He tried to find another job for a while, but he soon gave up, the search too hard for him.

Dad’s been worse lately–moody, grumpy, and snapping at any little thing.

They’re blowing through their savings just to get by. I heard them arguing one night about how they’re almost out of money, and they’re going to lose the house to foreclosure soon.

I tried not to gasp, willing the tears not the fall down my face because I had to be strong while my parents were weak. I had to put on a brave face, pretending like I didn’t know what was going on. I ignored that sick feeling in my stomach as they argued, shoved it in a box, and pushed it to the back of my mind. I wouldn’t be another problem for my parents when they already had enough.

“I’ll come visit all the time.” I want to be there for Mom. I want to support her and stand by her for whatever she needs, but I know school will take up most of my time. I know I will be swamped with my course load, but I want to give her hope.

“I know you will.” She picks up her fork, gathering a mound of mashed potatoes. As she lifts the fork to her lips, it slips from her fingers, clattering on her plate.

It happens in slow motion like a horror movie playing out before my eyes. She gasps for air as her right hand grabs her chest, and the other hits the table, trying to hang on as she tilts to the left, her body falling out of the chair. She lands with a thud on the floor as her chest heaves.

Pushing my chair away, I drop to the ground next to her, screaming her name, begging for her to be okay–for this to stop. Her body goes limp, and I shake her several times, urging her to wake up.

“Mom!” I scream at the top of my lungs, not knowing I could be so loud.

Tears move fast down my face and with shaky hands, I pull my cell out of my pocket, and dial a number I never imagined having to use.

“9-1-1 please state your emergency,” a woman with a monotonic voice answers on the other end.

“My mom…I don’t know what happened.” I choke on a sob. “She’s unconscious. She fell on the floor. We were eating dinner and talking…and she just fell over, grabbing at her chest.”

“Is she breathing?”

I lift my shaky hand, letting it rest under her nose. Her exhale hits my hand, and I sag in relief. “Yes,” I cry.

“Can you tell me your address?”

I rattle it off as coherently as I can, hoping she understands me through my sobs.

“I’ve dispatched an ambulance, and they are en route,” she tells me, her voice calm. “Do you want me to stay on the line with you while you wait?”

There are so many things I want.

I want to know what’s happening.

I want to know she’s going to be okay.

I want to know that I’ll be able to show her my art piece for the show.

I want so much more than for this woman to stay on the phone with me, but I’ll settle because at the moment, it’s all I’m getting.

Dr. Collins flips through Mom’s chart as I tap my hand against the side of my leg.

“Mrs. Hart, you experienced a heart attack.” He closes the chart, holding it close to his chest. “This is your second within the last two months.”

She bites her lip as she nods her head.

“What?” I blurt out.

“Jade, not now.” She shakes her head.

“Mom,” I argue, but she glares at me in warning, and I clamp my mouth shut as I cross my arms.

“We’re going to monitor you overnight, and then you can go home tomorrow,” Dr. Collins says.

Dad shifts in his seat next to the bed, seeming bored as I stand idle, waiting for more answers.

Dr. Collins smiles, turning to walk out of her room, but I stop him. “Why did this happen?” Apparently, the better question is why does this keep happening. How did I not know she had a heart attack before?

He adjusts his glasses, looking back at me. “We’re running tests, but any number of things could have caused her heart attack. Let’s wait for the results before we worry.”

It’s not really an answer, but when he walks out the door, closing it behind him, I know that’s all I’m going to get.

“It’ll be okay, Jade,” Mom says, a weak smile on her face.

I nod my head, but I find it hard to believe her because something feels wrong. My gut tells me there’s more going on than anyone is willing to say.

Dad vacates his chair, and I take his place, scooting closer to the hospital bed to hold Mom’s hand.

I grab on for dear life, holding as tight as I can, hoping we can leave tomorrow and forget any of this happened.

Jerking wakes me, and my eyes open, adjusting to the light as my hand is wrenched across the hospital bed, pulling my body down.

“Jade,” Mom wheezes, “the room is spinning, and my chest…” She doesn’t finish her thought as she vomits, the bile running down her chin and the side of her face.

Quickly, I push the call button on her bed, but five nurses are already flying through the door as the machines in the room beep erratically.

The nurses shove me out of the way as they administer medications and unhook her bed from the wall.

“What’s happening?” I cry out.

No one answers me. They shout out medical jargon I don’t understand as they roll Mom’s bed out of the room.

“Where are you taking her?” I ask, trailing behind them.

Still, they ignore me.

Dr. Collins stops me from following Mom down the hall, gripping me by the shoulders. “She needs an emergency procedure. I promise I’m going to take care of her, but you have to stay here.”

He let’s go, running down the hall while I stand in place, defeated and bewildered.

Dad appears next to me, looking in Mom’s empty room. “Where’s your mother? I went to grab coffee...” He trails off.

Tears slip from my eyes as I walk back in her room, sitting in the same chair as before, willing Mom to come back–for her to be okay.

“I’m fine,” Mom whines as I help her back to bed.

“You had surgery four days ago. You’re not fine,” I argue.

“Dr. Collins said it was a simple procedure, not a surgery. I’ll be good as new before you know it.”

“Mom,” I sigh, “Just let me help you.”

She concedes, wrapping her arm tighter around my shoulder.

Dr. Collins discharged Mom yesterday, saying she was doing much better since they placed a stent to prevent further problems. But when he diagnosed her with coronary artery disease, my stomach dropped as my eyes widened.

For the last month when I was at school during the day, Mom was going through a series of tests to figure out why she was having severe chest pain. Turns out, my parents kept a lot more from me than I thought.

“You should be in school.” She places one knee on the mattress, climbs in bed, and slips under the covers.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll always worry about you, Jade. You’re my daughter.”

I lean down, placing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “And I’ll always worry about you.” I pull the covers up to her neck and head toward the door. “Get some sleep.”

She smiles, her eyes closing as I shut the door behind me.

I sag against the nearest wall, letting tears fall down my face. Crying because I’m grateful she’s still here–that she’s still breathing. I haven’t lost her, not yet.

I push away from the wall, wiping away my tears, and walk downstairs where Dad is sitting at the kitchen table, twirling a bottle of beer between his hands.

“She’s asleep,” I inform him. He nods his head, a distant look in his eyes. “You need to find a job. I know you and Mom are drowning in bills.”

“It’s not that easy,” he whispers.

“It doesn’t have to be a big, fancy job. You just need something.”

His head shoots up. “Do you know what it’s like to be reduced to an entry level position? I was a manager for ten years.”

“It doesn’t matter.” I shake my head. “Mom needs you.”

“Whatever job I get won’t make a difference.” He shoves a piece of paper at me. In big red letters, it reads ‘Notice of Eviction.’ “We have thirty days to leave the house.”

Everything I thought I knew is disappearing.

My childhood home. My parents. My plans to attend college.

All of it is being taken away from me without my permission. It’s all slipping away and pushing me into the unknown.