Chapter 1
After staying almost all night at the hospital, Sasha returned late to the sublet. The next day, she arrived at the hospital with numerous pages of search results on David Ward—as many as the library had let her print for free. She hoped her mom could help point out which one of the printed Facebook profiles was her father’s.
Unfortunately, Maggie wouldn’t be able to help with this task. Overnight, she’d developed a high fever and a possible sepsis infection, so she was put on another, stronger dose of antibiotics. Maggie was exhausted, drifting in and out of sleep. When she was awake, she was delirious. In her frantic state, she would try to rip the IV from her arm while demanding to know where she was. Sasha would rush to her side, stop her, and reassure her mother that everything was alright.
Nonetheless, in between these moments of confusion, Sasha was able to get a few clear answers from her mother. She found out that her father was of Italian-Irish descent and was around Maggie’s age.
When she got back to the apartment, Sasha was determined to take the few details she had and continue her search, but the moment she sat down on the edge of the bed, her own fatigue overcame her.
“Maybe I’ll just take a quick nap,” she said to herself, setting her phone down on the bedside table. Lying her head on the pillow, she closed her eyes and fell asleep.
A few moments later, the shrill ring of her phone pierced through the quiet room.
Sasha’s trembling fingers scrambled to answer the call without even checking who it was. A pit formed in her stomach. Having woken from a dream where she was at the craft store, she half-expected it to be her manager.
“H–hello?” She turned on the lamp and rubbed her eyes. “I’m on my way, I’ll only be five minutes late, I swear,” she said. She must’ve slept through her alarm, but she’d make it up to her boss. Who else would be calling her at this hour?
Wait…
It was still dark outside, and the craft store didn’t open until 9.
“Uh—hello?” The man on the other side of the call sounded even more confused. He also didn’t sound anything like the middle-aged woman, Andrea, who Sasha reported to at work. “Am I speaking to Sasha Sommers?”
Blinking quickly as her vision adjusted, she straightened her shoulders and cleared her throat before answering. “Y-yes. This is Sasha.”
“My name is Dr. Jacob McDonald,” he said in a soft but steady voice. “I’m calling about your mother, Margaret Sommers.”
Sasha drew in a sharp breath. “What about her?”
“Sasha, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but things really took a turn for the worst tonight, and she—”
Her vision blurred and her thudding heartbeat filled the empty room, drowning out his words. She knew what he meant. Sasha’s sweating fingers loosened their grip on the phone and for a moment she felt herself stop breathing, staring listlessly asher eyes flickered with shock and uncertainty. Swallowing hard, she gripped the sheets tightly in her other hand, as if trying to hold onto something in a world where the only person she had left was gone. The doctor’s voice broke through her racing thoughts, but it sounded distant, like he was talking to her from the other side of a long tunnel.
“Hello? Miss Sommers, are you still there?” he asked.
She gripped the blanket a little tighter and drew in a shaky breath, gathering her courage to speak. “I—yes. I’m here.” Her bottom lip quivered, but she bit it so she wouldn’t cry. “I—I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” Even though it terrified her to hear what he had to say, she needed to know the truth.
Maybe things weren’t as bad as she thought? Maybe she had panicked and didn’t fully understand?
Her mom’s condition could’ve worsened, but that didn’t mean she was…
She’s fine.
The doctor let out a heavy sigh and it was clear that this was hard for him too. “Your mother’s fever intensified, and her immune system became overwhelmed. I believe one of the nurses talked to you yesterday about how people respond to sepsis shock?”
Sasha furrowed her brow and tried to recall the conversation, but it felt like a lifetime ago. “I think so, yeah,” she replied. “Something about chemicals being released in the body and the danger of blood clots.”
“Yes,” he said. “Exactly. Chemicals can cause inflammation which sometimes result in blood clots. Unfortunately, this is what we believe happened to your mother. A blood clot in her brain. I’m sorry, but…” He paused for a beat, silence hanging like a tightrope in midair. “She—she was pronounced dead a few minutes ago.”
Her eyes widened and tears formed in them, but she couldn’t let them fall. Sasha was determined to stay strong, so she simply nodded and swallowed down the emotions that welled up inside her.
When her grandmother passed, Sasha was sad, but she’d been sick for a while so at least it had been expected. Her mom was perfectly fine over a week ago. How could things go south so quickly? It hardly made sense. This doubt was the last hope Sasha clung to in that moment. Maybe somebody had made a mistake?
“Who—who pronounced her dead?” she asked, not sure if that was appropriate to ask, but desperate for answers.
“I did,” he replied.
“I see.” She tilted her head. “And you’re sure it wasMargaret Sommersyou were treating? It’s Sommers with an O not a U.”
