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The silence that follows is heavier than what I felt while she was still here. The whole thing is just too messy and ethically dangerous for me. On top of it all, Todd is insanely attractive—what if I end up falling for the guy? I’d wind up getting heartbroken. And if I fail with the wife act, too… ugh, I shudder to even think what such a scenario might entail.
My answer will probably still be a no, but it’s getting harder for me to utter the word.
What if, though?
What if?
CHAPTER7
BECKY
The drive home after work has my stomach in knots, though I’m not exactly sure what it is that’s keeping me in such a state of high tension. Piper meant well earlier. Todd means well with this entire sale of the company. Vincent means well with those theater tickets for Elliot and me, too. I’m surrounded by people who mean well—don’t even get me started on Laura and Callie and my mom, who have been by my side since day one.
I’ve been so lucky, it’s hard not to wonder that maybe this offer coming from Todd is also a positive twist of fate. A gift from the universe that I’m overthinking out of an abundance of caution. At the end of the day, I would be making a ton of money for a very simple job. I make less in my career. Quite literally.
One day spent in Todd’s company. Elliot would warm up to him with a couple of playdates beforehand, I’m sure of it. I’m worried it might give him the wrong idea, though, considering the fact that I’ve worked hard to shield him from overattachment. He’s too young to understand the mommy and daddy issue for the time being, so that makes the whole thing easier to process for the both of us. And he’s so little, still… even if he did grow fond of Todd, he’d forget him just as quickly later down the line.
I don’t know. I’m still on the fence for a reason, even if it’s yet unbeknown to me.
Once I reach my apartment building, I’m struck by an unfamiliar and unsettling image. An ambulance parked just outside, red and blue lights flashing, the back door swung open. One of the paramedics is stood next to it, jotting something onto a clipboard.
My blood rushes hot through my limbs as I get out of the car and walk into the building. I practically fly up the stairs, concern tightening its grip on my throat.
By the time I get to my door and see it wide open, living room lights brightly on, I know there’s a connection to what I just saw downstairs. “Oh, no…”
A thousand awful scenarios are already shooting through my head as I walk in and find my mother stretched out on a gurney, moaning in pain as two paramedics help secure her left shoulder and arm. Elliot is in his pen, crying inconsolably as he clutches his baby-blue octopus plushie. I see a tray on the floor and cookies scattered all the way in from the kitchen.
“Don’t be alarmed, honey,” Mom says when she sees me, wide-eyed and red-faced from obvious physical pain.
“Mom, what happened?!”
I break into a cold sweat as I move closer to her, giving both paramedics a wondering and equally alarmed look. One of them, a man in his twenties, injects a painkiller into my mother’s IV. “Your mother had a fall. We’re concerned there may be multiple fractures,” he says. “We’ll need to take her to St. Mary’s for a full arm and shoulder scan…”
“Mom…” I manage, my eyes stinging with sudden tears.
“Honey, I know it looks bad, but it’s not gonna kill me, okay? I slipped on some spilled milk and egg batter. I didn’t even see it. It’s totally my fault,” she says, panting slightly as the painkiller starts to kick in. “Just take Elliot. He’s so scared, the poor thing…”
“It’s a good thing you called us, Mrs. Alderson. This could’ve been a lot worse,” the other paramedic says.
“I couldn’t think of anything else to do. The pain is… well, it’s really something,” she replies.
I’m astonished by her level of self-control, and then I remember that her pain threshold is something worthy of theGuinness Book of World Records, considering she had to bravely toil through birthing my sisters and me in the stretch of a single night. Frankly, this is the equivalent of a bruise, come to think about it. Well, it is to Mom, anyway, despite the tormented look on her face.
* * *
After they load Mom up into the ambulance, I take Elliot over to Laura’s and let Callie drive us to St. Mary’s. Dad is already there. It’s a hot mess, a rush of concerns and worst-case scenarios that probably every family goes through when an accident like this happens. We haven’t even spoken to the doctor yet, but we’re already terrified. Who’s going to take care of Mom? Dad’s in pretty bad shape, too, what with his mild stroke from last year and plummeting blood pressure. Laura would put in some hours, Callie would do, too, and I would find a way to help as well, though I wouldn’t bear the brunt considering I also have Elliot to look after.
“We’re talking purely recovery here,” Callie says as we pull up into the parking lot behind St. Mary’s. This is where I had Elliot, and it is definitely one of the better hospitals in San Diego. The staff here are wonderful. What scares me is the bill. “If it’s just a cast, it’ll be six to eight weeks, tops. If there’s surgery involved, we’ll be looking at several months, physiotherapy included.”
“Maybe it’s just a bad sprain,” I reply.
“You said it looked worse than that,” Callie says as we get out and start walking toward the entrance. “Like tumescent. That’s the word you used. Tumescent.”
“It looked awful, yeah, and she seemed to be in a lot of pain.”
It takes a while and conversations with several different nurses, but Callie and I finally make it into the waiting room of the emergency ward, where Dad has already claimed one of the red plastic seats in the middle. Thankfully, it’s not that crowded for a weeknight in one of the busier parts of the city.
The first thing I do is throw my arms around Dad’s neck. He’s okay on his own; he walks and talks fine, but he can’t drive anymore, so he’s become adept at using the city’s ride-sharing apps instead. For better or worse, he can handle himself despite somewhat debilitating conditions, whereas Mom has never even had a flu. She’s not a good patient, in general. I remember Dad saying she was up and vacuuming the whole house just three days after my sisters and I were born. Of course, she’s older now. Her body won’t listen to her like it used to.
