22

 

Markus was known around town as the Gold's personal chauffeur. Sometimes I’d see a black limo with tinted windows, but more often than not he would circle the bayou that looped around the edge of Goldryn Bois and split away from the town. Markus drove a hover boat and despite his baseball cap with the local high school team mascot on the front. Go Gators, yeah!

His eyes were creased with laughter lines and white where the sun couldn’t reach them. I had seen him sail past the back of Judy's so often that seeing him behind the wheel was jarring.

I asked about his grandkids and I knew his daughter was having problems at work. She wanted to be an accountant, but was having trouble juggling the college courses and her toddler twins.

Markus dropped me off out the front of the hospital, right by the smoking area, and told me he'd park up until I was ready to go. Which was sweet.

Mama was still unconscious when I got to the ICU. Which wasn’t surprising considering the damage to her liver (self-inflicted or otherwise). I waited for the doctors to make rounds and took out my phone to distract from the constant beep of the machines and the whir of the dialysis machine.

The room stank of disinfectant and stale sweat. I couldn’t help but study my Mama’s prone form as she laid on the bed. I lifted the thin sheet to look at her leg, but was greeted by a thick blue cast. I guessed that even with pins, she needed it for her leg.

I was bored by the time one of the consultants was able to see me. I felt guilty about the fact that I was bored. I didn’t care that my mother laid on a bed, helpless, whilst machines filtered out all of the crap in her body. I wrapped my arms around myself, cold.

“Ms. Thompson?” A gentle voice directed me to the family room. I was pleased that it was empty. “My name is Doctor Rumta.”

I nodded but said nothing.

“Do you want some water? A coffee?” she pointed to the dated image of a cappuccino on the coffee machine in the corner. I shook my head.

“Okay. Well, the bad news is that your mother is the same as yesterday. Not better and not worse. But the chances of organ failure get higher the longer we go without finding a viable liver donor for her.”

I nodded, in confusion. “I was tested yesterday...”

Doctor Rumta cleared her throat and looked to the chart. “Unfortunately, you weren’t a match.”

My heart stuttered. My eyes widened. My blood was molasses.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

Rumta chewed her lip and her gaze darted over me; and then, in the direction of Mama's room.

“You aren’t biologically related to Gilly Ann Thompson.” The doctor told me. “I've sent your blood away for some tests. It triggered something on the system. I'll let you know when we know more.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or celebrate. And that made me a disgusting excuse for a human being.

 

 

I was grateful that I didn’t have to drive back to Goldryn Bois, because my tears were so thick that I could barely see.

I'd left my phone at Elliot’s, so I had to wait on the sidewalk until Markus looped back an hour later. The driver had seen my face and hadn’t tried to engage me in conversation. My cheeks stung where my tears had dried. My mascara marred my face like two black stripes. I was a whirling cyclone of confusion and anger.

Gilly Thompson wasn’t my mother.

I was lost. Confused. Dazed.

“Where do you want to go, Ms. Thompson?” Markus spoke through the clear divider.

“Can you take me to Elliot's, please?”

He nodded and continued to drive without another word. It was dark when we pulled up outside of the front of the Mini Gold Manor in which Elliot lived. A few of the lights were on and I went straight around the back, to the kitchen.

I typed in the key code and walked in, placing my handbag on the counter. I pulled out a chair and put my head in my hands with a sigh.

I heard someone approach and hover in the doorway. I looked up, ready to fling myself into Elliot’s arms and divulge what a shitty day that I’d had.

Instead, I was greeted by the sight of Sarah Mallory, in a silk kimono and little else. Barefoot with the robe undone so that the outline of her breast was visible. Her hair was fluffed and she looked like she’s just been fucked.

Sarah walked forward without a word and took a glass from the cabinet. Surprisingly, she moved around the kitchen with the ease of someone who’d spent a lot of time there.

“You need to leave.” Sarah sneered as she poured herself a glass of water. “Didn’t you see the Goldryn Post? Our engagement announcement was printed today.”

My brow furrowed, confused by her words. “Why are you here?” I asked slowly. My mind was unable to piece together what was happening. “Elliot invited me.”

“Funny.” Sarah drained the glass of water and put it down with a thunk. “He didn’t mention that ten minutes ago. In the bedroom.”

I shook my head. Anger flushed through me. “He’s upstairs, is he?” I snarled.

Sarah waved her hand as if inviting me to check. She stepped aside and I caught a glimpse of discarded clothes, leading the way up the staircase in the entrance hall.

Elliot’s clothes. On the floor. Thrown about in a fit of passion, mingled with a sea green thong and bra.

Bile rose up in my throat. “You can fucking keep him.” I jabbed my finger in her direction. “You deserve each other.”