Mom looks over at my dad who hasn’t left her side all night. Smiling, she asks, “Jim, can I talk to Stella alone for a second?”
Dad’s been dozing over in the world’s most uncomfortable recliner. “Sure, I’ll go see about some coffee. I’ll take my time,” he says, winking at both of us.
Stepping over to her bed, I grasp one of the railings next to her. “What is it, Mom? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong, sweetie. I just wanted to tell you something.” There’s a long pause before she speaks again. “Yesterday, when I realized there was something seriously wrong with me, I started to panic. Lots of things were running through my head. I suppose it’s normal when one has a near-death experience… but I kept thinking about you, Stella. Do you know what I thought?”
“Um, that you hoped that I’d remember to eat my vegetables after you’re gone?” I snort out a little laugh. Awkward. “Sorry, that was morbid. I like to joke when I’m in stressful situations.”
Mom gives me a warm smile. “Oh, I know you do. No, I realized at that moment that I was the world’s shittiest mother.”
“Huh?” I cough.
“Yes, it’s true. I’m sure you know that already. It struck me that I was going to die and that I wouldn’t be able to tell you that I loved you and that I was sorry for treating you abominably over the years. You are an extraordinary young woman, Stella. I’m so proud of all of your accomplishments. You have blossomed into such a beautiful woman, one who’s smart, funny, loving, and a very talented artist.”
“Who are you and what have you done with my mother?” I tease.
I half expect her to laugh, but she doesn’t. “I’m serious. I’ve always loved your artwork but was hesitant to encourage that in you. I had my own ideas about what you should be when you grew up. But youaregrown up. It’s not up to me to make those important choices for you. Your dad was right about that. I’m just sorry it has taken me so long to figure things out.”
“Wow. So, are you saying you won’t mind if I change my major?”
“I won’t fight you on it, no. But I wish you’d consideredeither a double major in business and in art or going for the art history route that your dad mentioned.”
“He told you about that?”
“Yes, he did. He likes the idea. I was hesitant at first, but the more I thought about it, the more I liked the sound of Dr. Stella Matthews,” Mom says, winking.
A Ph.D. would give me that distinction. “Yeah, that sounds pretty good.”
“Well, Dr. Stella Emerson sounds even better.” She winks again.
“Uh, yeah, well, it’s much too soon to be talking about that.” I laugh nervously.
“I know. I know. Wishful thinking on my part.”
I’m so not ready to tell them that there is trouble in Alex Emerson paradise.
Mom breaks my little moment of silence with “Stella, I promise I’ll work harder on the mother-daughter thing.”
“Me too, Mom. I’ll even tell you when you are acting like old Mom.”
“Hey, I’m not old!”
“I just meant?—”
Reaching out, I watch her take my hand in hers. “I know what you meant. Yes, please tell me if I revert back to pre-heart-episode Mom. Okay?”
I nod. I will definitely do that. It’s strange that something so good can come out of something so frightening. Just as we finish our heart-to-heart, Bradley appears in Mom’s room. “Ready to start back, Stella?” he asks.
“Yep. I’m ready. Love you, Mom.”
“I love you more, Stella.”
Oh gosh, I’m going to cry. I reach over and hug Mom. As I start toward the door, Dad enters. I hug him goodbye and leave the hospital with a big ole smile on my face. Outside, I can’t help noticing the sun has barely risen. It’s still early, but Bradley has to get back to his fraternity. His frat threw a big party last night, and he wants to be sure it’s still standing. I don’t mind. I need to get back.
Bradley drops me off in front of Shepard, and I make my way up to my room. I take the elevator instead of the stairs because I’m dead on my feet. Sleeping on a hard hospital sofa isn’t for wimps. When I enter the suite, it’s silent. Satan’s mistress’s door is closed, thankfully. I go straight into my room and start to get my things to shower but stop. Coffee! I need a coffee first, shower second. I grab my coffee pod and add the water. I’m about to put my cup under the nozzle when the bathroom door opens. I freeze as I watch Alex emerge.
What is he doing here? Wait, what is he doing here at nine in the morning? And why is he shirtless? He’s holding his tee in his hand. His pants are unbuttoned but zipped, and his hair is a complete mess. He looks like shit, actually.
