going to collapse. Between not knowing if my mother would live and the memory from what I saw in the tub this morning, it all started to become too much.
“I just want to talk to her. I want to see what she has to say. To ask why she did this.”
“Let’s see if we can make that happen.”
Before I can ask how he plans to do that, Mark releases my hands and rolls over to the nurse’s station. I can’t hear the conversation he has with the woman on the other side, but she soon picks up the phone, dialing someone. Soon enough, she’s handing the phone over to Mark, who takes it and begins speaking with whoever’s on the other end.
The conversation is brief before Mark hands the nurse back the phone and returns to me.
“A doctor will be out soon to take you back to see your mom.”
Frowning, I shake my head. “I don’t think so. I’ve been waiting here almost all day.”
“Ms. Hinkerson?”
Pivoting in my seat, I turn to see a tall, lanky figure dressed in a white coat and wearing a stethoscope. Dr. Mike Jacobsen is embroidered over the left breast pocket of his coat.
“Yes.”
“I’m Dr. Jacobsen. I’ve been overseeing your mother’s care. She’s resting, and the blood transfusions have helped tremendously in elevating her levels. Physically, she’s out of the woods.”
“Physically,” I mumble. Standing, I ask, “Can I see her?”
“Yes, of course. Right this way.”
I turn to look at Mark, who nods with his head for me to follow the doctor. I do so, but I remind myself to ask later how he could get done in a matter of minutes what I’d been waiting for hours to accomplish.
“I can only give you a few minutes with her. She needs to rest.”
I nod to the doctor before stepping around him and pushing the hanging, light green curtain aside so that I can pass through. This isn’t an official hospital room, just a partitioned off part of the emergency department until they admit my mother to an actual room.
“Mama,” I call lightly from the makeshift doorway.
Her eyelids flutter, and I release the breath I’m holding, seeing signs of life. She turns her head as her eyes open to slits.
“Ma,” I croak out as I draw closer and toss my arms around her. I begin sobbing uncontrollably. I cry so hard that it takes me a minute to realize that my mother is crying, too. I have to fight to control myself. The doctor is only giving me a few minutes with my mother before he does whatever he plans to with her. Working in mental health and addiction services, I know all about the seventy-two-hour hold, where I won’t be able to speak with her at all.
My stomach drops as I realize my career and experience should’ve told me she was vulnerable to something like this. I should’ve picked up on the signs.
“Mama, please tell me why you did this to yourself. Please?” I beg as I take her by the shoulders and bring our faces even.
“I-I don’t know, Jackie. I just don’t know.”
I shake my head. “That’s not good enough. Daddy dying is hard, but I know you can get through this.” The words feel like battery acid on my tongue. I loathe my father even more than I already did, but I know she loved him.
“It’s been so hard. I know you think I’m weak, Jackie. It’s because I am. Always have been. He told me so every day. How am I supposed to live life without him? A-And with the house and you …”
I stiffen. “What do you mean, the house and me?” I never confided in my mother about what my father mandated in his will.
“I know about it,” she says. “I know everything.”
My knees weaken, and I have to take a seat on the side of her bed. “What do you know, Mama?”
“Your Uncle Will came over last night. He’s been doing that for weeks. Just showing up now and then when you were out working late.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She shakes her head. “It never seemed important. He always said he was just coming by to check on me. He’d ask about you and if you were seeing anyone. I know I’m not that smart, but I felt like he was spying on us or something. So, I always told him you were out late working on a big project.”
Reaching forward, she grabs my forearm. “That you’re seeing Mark slipped