Page 108 of A Really Bad Idea

I smile. “I try.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Of course,” I say without looking at him.

He leans forward to give me a kiss on the cheek, and I back away a little. It’s the first time I’ve ever done that, and I instantly regret it.

He has a look of confusion. I just smile and wave at him as he walks down the hall.

The conversation I must have with him is deep and not something I can do in a public place or while I’m in the midst of my mother’s surgery. It’s something we need to discuss in private and preferably with a scotch … or ten.

It’s a few hours before we’re allowed to see my mother. Dad goes in first, coming out with a red face, tears in his eyes but a smile to go along with it. Brian and Beth are next, and then it’s my turn.

I take my time as I walk down the hall of the cardiac intensive care unit and look for her room. I’ve seen her post-operation before, and it doesn’t help that gut-clenching feeling I have right now.

Her face is swollen, and there’s a breathing tube down her throat since she’s still sedated. Her bed is flat but on an incline, making her look almost Frankenstein-esque, lying there with several monitors around the bed, each hooked up to her body like she’ll be brought back to life by a mad scientist. The steady beep of the machine is drowned out by the rattling of the blood pressure cuff.

I take a seat in the chair by her bed, grab her warm, lifeless hand, and hold it in mine.

A fresh tear rolls down from my eye as I look at my mother, the first love of my life. She looks horrible. If she were awake, she’d lose her mind. Then again, considering what her body just went through, she looks positively beautiful. It’s a unique experience for a child to see their parent at their most vulnerable. Throughout this ordeal, I’ve witnessed my mother’s strength and her weakness. As she grew sicker, her fear was evident, yet she always kept a steady head. Her concerns were never for herself but for her family.

I love her so much for that.

“Full disclaimer,” I say out loud, not knowing if she can hear me. “I’m a bit of a mess right now.”

My nose flares as I attempt to hold back the burning sensation building behind my eyes. My mouth turns down on its own, and there is just no use. More tears fall down my cheeks.

“How am I even your daughter? You are so strong and resilient. Hell, you almost died today. You’re so stubborn that I bet you saw Saint Peter at the gates and demanded he send you back.” I let out a laugh-like cry.

She doesn’t respond. That’s okay because I actually don’t need her to.

“I’m glad you’re okay because I really need your advice, but you have to promise you won’t try to meddle. I know; I know. It’s hard for you not to.” My head tilts curiously at my mother, as I wonder, just wonder, if maybe …

I lean my arm on my chair and twist my body, thinking about my mother’s motives for giving me the egg-freezing brochure. I was so lost in the past that I wasn’t looking toward the present. She pushed me to see what I wanted and knew it wasn’t just about a baby.

“You knew Christian would do the right thing. You knew he’d want to have a baby with me. And you knew I’d agree because I love him.”

I won’t be able to verify this until she wakes up, but I’m pretty damn sure my mother is the most interfering, nosy, conspiratorial helicopter mother there ever was.

I’m so lucky she’s mine.

Only problem with her plan is, Christian doesn’t want me the way I want him. I want more, and that’s unfair because I’d be breaking my vow to him. His career is still his focus; it’s part of who he is. I would never, could never, jeopardize that.

“You have a lot of explaining to do.” I lean down and kiss my mother on her forehead. “Dad is waiting for me. I’m going to make him come home with me to shower and have a home-cooked meal. Next time I see you, you’ll be awake, and everything will go back to normal. Everything …” My voice trails off.

“Better than a recliner?” I ask my dad as he comes out of my bedroom, showered and ready to see Mom.

I gave him my bed last night and took the couch for myself since my second bedroom only has a desk and stationary bike.

He has a giddy smile on his face as he grabs his wallet off the counter. “I’ll feel even better when I can get your mom home. How long do you think she’ll stay in the hospital?”

“Only a few more days.” I grab my bag.

There’s a ring on my landline. When I pick it up, Salvatore is on the other end. “Brian Duvane is here to see you.”

I look at Dad, wondering if he knew Brian was coming over. “Send him up.”

I open the door and wait for the elevator to open. When it does, Brian steps out with three coffees on a cardboard tray.