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Paparazzi are at my home.
This is all Wesley’s fault.
I half expect him to demand I stay in the car, but he doesn’t. When it’s clear that he has no interest in me and what happened tonight, I exit and slam the door in his face. Ignoring the flash that almost blinds me, my feet move quickly as I enter our building, not looking back at him, not even once.
Inside my apartment, I welcome the silence with Flynn gone to a gig. I sit on the couch, staring at the wall dressed in this ridiculous dress. I’m desperate to rip it off, a constant reminder of Carson’s wandering eyes.
Holding back the deep cries that linger on the surface, I dial Mama’s number praying she’ll pick up this time.
“Milana, is that you?”
“It’s me, Mama. I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes. No. Mama, can we talk about something?”
“Of course, honey, hold on for a minute. I’ll come home.”
“What home, Mama? I’m here… in California.”
“California? Why or earth would you be there?”
Stunned by what she tells me, my lips tremble, the bile in my throat rising. “Mama, I moved to California, remember, with Flynn?”
The tears fall down my face, unwillingly. I have no control. I’ve lost her. The pain, a tidal wave of emotions. My sobbing is broken apart by the short pauses, my head falling between my legs to shield my hollowness.
“I know that, silly. How is Flynn?”
“Good,” I choke, breathing in and out to disguise my grief. “Mama, is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine. I’m sorry, sweetie, it’s late. How about we speak tomorrow?”
“But Mama…” I wail, softly but laced with desperation. “I need to talk to you.”
“I know, honey, but I’m so tired. I promise, first thing when I wake up, we’ll talk, okay?”
She says goodbye so quickly, not giving me a chance to get in another word. I don’t allow another minute to pass, calling the manager at the facility. After getting the run-around, and raising my voice at Deidre, I’m finally put through to the head manager, Mrs. Scullino.
“Miss Milenov, I understand your concern, but it’s quite late, and I have some last-minute patients I have to attend to. I think it’s best we schedule a phone meeting.”
“This is a phone meeting. I want to know what’s happening with my mother,” I sputter, momentarily beyond words. “She’s not the same. Some of the things she says… I don’t understand why this is happening so quickly.”
I can hear the sigh on the other end. “Miss Milenov, you sound tired. I really think it’s best we discuss your mother’s condition when you’re in a more rational state.”
“Don’t…” I cry into the receiver. “Don’t tell me I’m not rational. My mother is sick. I need her… do you understand that?”
“Miss Milenov, if you must know, I’m recommending we do some further testing. Her dementia may be an onset of something else. Given her age, and her regular health has been good, I do have some concerns.”
I can barely breathe, my body like jelly yet shaking from the cold that sweeps into the room. As I begin to hyperventilate, unable to form my words to make any sense, Mrs. Scullino attempts to calm me down.
“I come from a big family, being Italian, of course. I understand how much it hurts to find out a loved one isn’t well,” she says, sedately. “If you can come up and see her in the next few days, we can talk about our next steps.”
Through the pain and heartache, I agree to fly up and spend some much-needed time with Mama. I have to invest all m
y energy into making her better before she gets any worse.
We hang up the phone, yet I continue to sit here numb. I have never felt so alone. This life I have created is nothing like I expected. I may be surrounded by people, though the loneliness is palpable. Here I am, drowning, barely able to stay afloat, lost in the dark seas and moving further and further away from the light.
