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Mom was a huge fan of the show. It was on every day in our house, so I know it’s still early afternoon of this day that just doesn’t seem like it will ever end.
I had the help of one of the nurses earlier so I could use the restroom, still too stubborn to piss in a plastic container that would require someone else to empty, and it left me exhausted and completely drained. It’s no surprise I climbed back in bed and fell asleep almost immediately.
Closing my eyes, I shift on the bed, giving her an opportunity to seal herself back up. She seems like the type that wouldn’t appreciate someone seeing her upset. The fake smiles I watched her produce all day were proof of it.
When I reopen my eyes and roll my head in her direction, the tears have been dashed from her cheeks. She smiles back at me when I tug my lips up, and it’s another fake one. It’s as if she can’t help it, as if she’s behaving in a way she believes people expect. It’s clear that she’s done a lot of pretending for a long time since it comes like second nature to her.
Why do I even care?
I have a ton of my own shit to deal with, and maybe that’s my answer. Maybe I want to focus on something else, someone else, because then I don’t have to dig deep and deal with my own problems.
“Can I use your phone?”
She stands, reaching into her pocket.
“They forgot mine earlier, or they couldn’t find it. Kincaid said he’d have it sent with my clothes, but it wasn’t in the bag.”
“You don’t have to give me reasons to use my phone, Mr.—Brent.”
She hands it over to me, and I turn the device over in my palm, noticing the sticker on the back of it. “A fan of Superman?”
“It’s a Bird. It’s a plane,” she says with a smile that seems a little more genuine than the one before it.
“It’s locked,” I tell her, turning it back in her direction.
“1234,” she says, giving me the unlock code.
I type it in, shoving down the desire to tell her she needs something harder, but I’m not her boss nor her keeper.
I key in the number from memory. My mom has had the same one since the day I came to live with her at fourteen years old. It rings twice, but a male’s voice says hello.
“I’m—Who is this?”
“You called me, buddy,” the man grouses.
“I’m looking for Gretchen Porter. This is her number.”
“This is my number,” he counters. “I’ve had this number for two years.”
The line goes silent, indicating he hung up on me.
I look at the phone as if the thing in my hand isn’t the problem. When I look up at Sunshine, I see sadness in her eyes.
Cold dread runs down my spine as we lock eyes.
“Just tell me,” I say, when all I really want to do is hide under the blankets like a small child afraid of a thunderstorm as if the thin cotton fabric could protect me from the pain I already know is coming.
Instead of immediately speaking, Sunshine inches closer and sits on the side of my bed before clasping my hands in her own. The tremble in hers is a match to the tremble in mine.
“I was told things that you might want to know. The answer to some questions you might have.” Her lips tremble as she speaks, and I can’t decide if her compassion is a good thing or a bad thing.
Maybe if she was harder, maybe if she just delivered horrible news with a straight face rather than with the tremble in her chin, I could take it easier. If she were shored up, then I could be too.
“Maybe you’d like to discuss those things with someone you know.”
“I don’t know anyone here,” I remind her, sniffling and trying to shove down the burn behind my eyes and in my nose.
It isn’t exactly true. I know Rivet, but after the too-real dreams and this unwarranted feeling of betrayal I feel where she’s concerned, she’s the last one I want here. “My mother is gone.”
I don’t have to form it as a question. I know it to be true from the way tears are pooling on her lower lashes.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, her fingers gripping mine a little harder. “I was told it happened in her sleep, peacefully, a couple of years ago. You left the Marine Corps for a short leave of absence to take care of her estate and then went back to work.”
Either Kincaid knew this from his extensive vetting process when I joined Cerberus or this is information Rivet provided. It makes me wonder if she were there. Had Angeline Herd pulled herself away from her lover long enough to help me with my grief? Was I still in love with her then?
