10

Janine

“Mom!”

I rush into my mother’s hospital room and to her bedside, my heart drumming against my chest like a ticking time bomb.

She turns her head towards me, smiling that smile I know so well and just like that, I feel the bomb diffuse.

I throw my arms around her. “Mom!”

“Janine,” she says my name, her hand on my hair. “I thought you were on your honeymoon.”

“We were about to leave,” I confess, holding her hand as I grab the stool so I can sit on it. “But how can I leave after knowing you collapsed?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” She places her hand over mine. “Nothing?” I stare at her bandaged elbow and look at her with wide eyes. “Mom, you passed out. What if… if…” “Hello, Dash,” my mother interrupts, her gaze beyond me.

I glance back, seeing Dash standing there with his coat draped over his arm, the purse that I have left behind in my haste hanging from his hand.

“Hi, Mom,” he greets, waving at her. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” she answers. “You didn’t have to come here. I’m sorry I ruined your honeymoon.”

“Mom.” I narrow my eyes at her.

“Please don’t say that.” Dash approaches the bed. “It’s all good. We can go some other time.”

He squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll just get coffee. Do you want one?”

“No.” Not now.

“Okay.” He puts my purse and his coat down on the empty armchair against the wall. “I’ll leave these here.”

“Okay.”

He leaves the room and I turn back to my mother, grip- ping her hand.

“Mom, this isn’t nothing,” I pick up the conversation to where it was left hanging after Dash came in. “I’m worried this kind of thing might happen again.”

“People fall all the time.”

Unbelievable. “You didn’t fall. You lost consciousness.

You almost broke your arm.”

“It’s just a sprain.” She shrugs, glancing at her bandaged elbow. “It’ll heal.”

I frown. “Well, you were lucky it was just a sprain, Mom.” My eyes crowd with hot tears. “You’re so fragile right now. We both know it could have been worse.”

“Janine.”

“You’re too sick, Mom,” I blurt out, unable to contain myself any longer. “It could have been much worse and I can’t stand to see you suffering more than you already are.”

She says nothing.

Just then, the door opens and a man in his forties wearing eyeglasses and a white coat comes in, a nurse pushing a wheelchair behind him.

“Hello.” He approaches me. “I’m Dr. Stevens. I’m the endocrinologist here.”

“Janine Davidson.”

I stand up to introduce myself, shaking his hand. “You’re Olivia’s daughter?”

“Yes,” I answer, nodding.

“I just need to take her for some tests,” Dr. Steven tells me.

“Tests?” My eyebrows furrow. “I thought she already had her X-ray and stuff.”

“She did but given her condition, she needs more,” he says, glancing at her. “I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course.” I step back.

I watch as the nurse carefully transfers my mother into the chair then wheels her off. Dr. Stevens gives me a nod then follows them out of the room.

Exhaling, I sit on the armchair but stand up as soon as I realize my purse and Dash’s coat are on it. I pick them both and something falls.

A picture lies face down on the floor.

Then I remember. Back at the airport, Marissa slipped something into his pocket. It was just for a second and I wasn’t sure I even really saw it. I wasn’t thinking clearly and I was in too much of a hurry to stop and confirm.

Confirmed.

I bend my knees and pick up the picture. There’s some- thing written at the back in blue ink.

Dash, I’m forever yours – Marissa

Yup. This confirms it.

I turn the picture over, ignoring the voice in my head telling me not to.

Marissa wears panties and a large military jacket emblazoned by the surname Siegel, nothing else. She’s blowing a kiss at the camera. Dash must have been the one holding it.

How dare she? Right in front of me?

My first impulse is to tear the picture to pieces, my fingers already gripping its sides.

Then I breathe. My shoulders relax. And I slip it into my purse.

Destroying it won’t accomplish anything and this isn’t the right time to question Dash. But I’m holding on to it.

Mom used to tell me not to throw anything away in case I might need it later.

Mom’s a bit of a hoarder. She has boxes full of receipts, used gift wrapping, old shirts, toys, candles, jars, pressed flowers, everything you can imagine.

What will I do with all those boxes when she’s gone?

I sit on the armchair, a hand clasped over my mouth as I try not to think of that scenario.

I can’t. I just can’t.

I could have lost her this time.

What if her fall had been worse? What if she was too weak to stand and just ended lying there with no one to help her? What if this is only the beginning? What if it gets worse and she’s all alone?

I shake my head, pushing those unbearable images aside but not before they can cause tears to trickle down my cheeks.

I should have been there.

A buzzing sound disrupts my thoughts.

As the sound goes on, I realize it’s Dash’s phone. He left it in another pocket of his coat.

Should I answer it?

What if it’s Marissa? Or what if it’s an important phone call?

I wipe my tears and stand up, grabbing Dash’s coat and my purse. I’ll just go look for Dash and tell him about it. I don’t care who’s calling him. It’s not like he’s my real husband, anyway. Right?

After a few minutes, I find Dash sitting alone on a bench on the hospital grounds, his elbows on his knees and his coffee cup in both his hands. I sit next to him.

He looks at me. “Janine. What are you doing here?” “Someone was calling you.” I hand him his coat.

He takes it and checks his phone. “It’s not important.”

He puts it back in the coat pocket. “How’s your mother?”

“They took her for some tests,” I reply, letting out a deep breath as I place my purse on my lap. “I’m just glad she’s… alive.”

“I know.” Dash places his hand on my thigh.

“I still think I could have prevented this from happening, though. I don’t want to see her get hurt anymore.”

For a moment, Dash falls silent, his hand still on my thigh. Then he slowly retracts his arm, both hands around his cup once more.

“You know, I’ve been thinking…”

I look at him expectantly, clutching the straps of my purse. “Yes?”

He strokes his cup. “What if we put your Mom in a facility? You know, one of those facilities for terminally ill patients where—”

I stand up with my mouth open, my purse falling off my lap.

Dash sets down the coffee cup beside him and picks up my purse. “It’s just a suggestion, Janine. You—”

“How can you suggest such a thing?” I ask him, breathing heavily as my chest grows tight. “Do you honestly think being surrounded by dying people and strangers is what’s best for her?”

He puts my purse on the bench. “It’s better than being alone. That way, if anything happens to her, someone will always be there to take care of her and—”

“I’m her daughter.” I place a hand on my aching chest. “I’m the one who’s going to take care of her.”

“But you’re an accountant, not a nurse,” he points out, standing. “What if you get pregnant and have a baby? Will you be able to take care of her then?”

My hand falls from my chest as my gaze falls on my feet, my mind unable to come up with anything to say.

“Besides, we both know she doesn’t want you to see her suffering. It makes her suffer more.”

“What do you know?” I lift my palms in exasperation, clenching them and then letting them fall at my sides. “She’s not your mother. You don’t love her. You don’t understand her. Hell, you barely know her.”

I feel my tears spill out along with my emotions – my frustration, my pain.

I place a hand on my hip as I look away, trying to calm myself down. “You don’t know her.”

“I don’t,” Dash admits, placing his hands on my shoulders. “Maybe that’s why I can think clearly. I’m not clouded with emotions.”

I shake my head.

He places his arms around me, resting his chin on my shoulder. “I’m not the enemy here, Janine. I’m just trying to help you do what’s best for your mother.”

“Why do you care so much, huh?” I snap at him as I turn around, pushing him away.

“Because you obviously do, and–”

“I signed your stupid contract. No matter what happens to her, you’ll still get your baby.”

He sighs. “Janine…”

“You don’t get to have a say in this, Dash. I’m her daughter.” I point a finger at my chest. “And you…” I poke my finger at his chest. “You’re just a stranger passing by.”

With that, I grab my purse and go back inside the hospital, wiping my tears.