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ChapterThree
MYBAREFEETslapped against cold, dark wood. The kitchen had west-facing windows, so I fumbled along the wall until my hand slapped a switch.
Apparently, my mother had remodeled the kitchen at some point. Gray quartz with white and gold veins covered every available surface. White, Shaker style cabinets in three rows went to the vaulted ceiling where two golden chandeliers shed light on the entire room. I padded past the island, strolling by an impressive eight burner range along the way, and to the back corner where I saw a fancy, single serve coffeemaker. A clear drawer beneath the device held an assortment of pods. I selected a capsule with a caramel color and plopped it in the receptacle then rummaged through the cabinet above for a white porcelain coffee mug. As the machine ran, I rubbed my bare arms. I had awoken early and slipped out of bed, still in just my boxers, and stumbled down the stairs, desperately in search of coffee.
The air smelled faintly of dry heat. The system must have kicked on at some point in the early hours of the morning. Late April in New England could bring delightful warmth, or a catastrophic nor’easter. The night before brought chillier temps, it seemed.
My lips kissed the foamy head of the coffee when I heard a crash from down the hall. I lowered the mug, blinked, and cocked my head to listen for the sound again. Reality hadn’t found me when I woke up and zombie-walked into the kitchen, but the moment struck me when I remembered why I was here, standing in my childhood home.
Ma. Sick.
I dropped the coffee mug as I moved as quickly as I would at judo practice. The mug smashed onto the floor as I darted out of the kitchen and into the hallway. Through the unused family room, down the second hall, around the corner, then bursting between both of the doors to the primary suite.
“Ma,” I said in a frenzy. A tablet and a book lay on the ground beside the bed, as well as a spilled plastic cup of water with a straw. I sprinted the five steps to her bed and leaned over her. “Ma,” I said again and took her gently by the shoulders, then gave her a light shake. Nothing. Her lower lip opened as if she whispered something.
I looked at her nightstand. An assortment of pill bottles decorated the thing like opaque, orange stalagmites in a cave. There was an open notebook with a schedule that I didn’t recognize. Her Tiffany lamp was on. As soon as my eyes targeted the phone, I picked up the receiver to listen for a dial tone, then pressed the three most important buttons on the set’s keypad.
One ring. Then, “911, what is your emergency?”
“It’s my mother. She’s unresponsive. I don’t know what’s happening. Can you send an ambulance?”
“Can you confirm your location?” I rattled it off for the operator. She said, “Thank you, I’m dispatching them to you now. Please stay on the line. Can you tell me more about your mother? Is she breathing?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, that’s a good sign. I want you to check a few things. Make sure she is lying on her back or on a flat surface. Continue to monitor her breathing. If anything changes or becomes irregular, we may need to perform CPR. Is she still breathing regularly?”
“I don’t know about regularly. It’s quick little breaths. Her eyes aren’t opening.”
“Okay. Can you tell me your name? And hers?”
“I’m Connor.” The name that came out of my mouth sounded more likeCahnah. “My ma is Cordelia.”
“Okay, Connor. Did Cordelia fall? Can you tell me where she is?”
“No, she’s in bed. She has geo… geoblast…”Fuck!That fucking word.
“Glioblastoma?”
I nodded, as if the operator could see me. “Yeah, that. There’s so many pills here. I don’t know if she took one by mistake? I heard a crash. I think she dropped her book when she was reaching for something on the nightstand.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your mother’s condition. It’s critical we monitor her breathing until the ambulance arrives. But for right now, you need to go and unlock your front door, all right? Put away any pets that may get loose. There’s a patrolman already on your street. He can meet you at the front door. The ambulance should be there shortly after. You can put the phone down, but don’t hang up.”
“All right, thank you. I’ll be right back. Thank you.”
I set the receiver down and away from the cradle, gave my mother one last look, and sprinted down the hall and into the foyer. I flicked the deadbolt and wrenched the door open. Chilled, springtime air hit me and I shivered as I stood there in my taut, black boxers. Deep shades of persimmon tinged the horizon as the deep black of the sky lightened for dawn. Fledglings tweeted good morning on an otherwise quiet and empty street. There was a certain serenity to a New England morning, one I never fully appreciated until moving to the bustle of LA.
The quietude seemed at odds with the emergency at hand. It was like my mother’s condition didn’t exist for that brief moment while I stood on the stoop to the front door. But no, I wore the urgency like a cloak to ward off the chill. Ma was sick. I needed help.
A Ford Explorer pulled into the driveway with its blue lights flashing, but no sirens. I turned to look inside the house, as if I would find my mother standing there. My feet froze on the granite front step, but I barely noticed. Inside, I flipped the light switch, and dual faux gas flame lanterns burned to life. When I turned back around, Bennett was walking toward me.
Everything slowed down. Confusion played a sick number on my mind.Why is he visiting me? Who cares, he’s visiting me! No wait…
“Is she in her bedroom?” Bennett asked as he approached the front door at a brisk walk.
I must have been a sight standing there, half naked. Only three years ago I was on the cover ofMen’s Healthfor their “Dirty Thirty” edition, and I didn’t let my routine slide when Hollywood shit-canned me.
“Yeah.” I almost didn’t notice the way his eyes raked over my body the closer he got. Clad in only boxers in front of an old flame I hadn’t seen in over a decade, and now for the second time in less than twelve hours. I had to put that aside. Now wasn’t the time.
