The weight of my own inaction bore down on me, leaving me struggling and gasping for breath. I was selfish and naive and stupid. I had the solution to every answer, to everyone one of Maura’s problems and I had squandered it time and time again, failing to see past my own trivial problems.
I could hear the lingering, faint remanence of Thallor’s voice. The muffled and subdued part of myself that clung to my subconscious knew that he was talking to me, but it was drowned out by everything else that I was feeling. I felt trapped in a cage of my own doing, trapped in a cage of glass where awareness drifted at the edges, but nothing but the blaring reality that I had run out of time cut through.
I wasn't really sure how long the drive lasted. It felt like seconds. It felt like days. One moment bled into another until the car finally came to a stop, something I barely registered untilThallor pulled open my door. My feet moved on autopilot, pacing with a mind of their own until the door slammed behind me and I found myself standing outside the hospital entrance.
I hesitated at the threshold as the doors slid open. One step forward, and every hypothetical problem that had persisted in the back of my mind would snap into place. But one step backward and it would all disappear, including my chance to fix it all. A hand slipped into mine, one that had brought me so much safety and joy only moments ago, now only served to make me aware of the reason I'd summoned him in the first place.
As I stepped inside, all I could see was a blur of faces. Ghosts that seem to move all around me–people sat in the waiting room area, some talking, some sitting silently, one particular family laughing and crying with happy tears at the new welcomed addition to their little family. But the fluorescent lights and sterile scent threatened to bring my lunch up. I knew it wasn't their fault, but I couldn't rationalise how people were going about their days, laughing, chatting, when mine felt like it was slipping through my fingers and being ripped apart.
I swallowed down another sob as the woman repeated her question.
I—
What?
I tried to breathe, but my lungs felt like concrete. The woman at the desk looked at me, smiling, as she continued to repeat her question. I tried to focus, I really did but there was nothing I could do to stop myself from wanting to rip that smile off her face. That stupid fucking smile.
“We are here to see Maura Sterling?” Thallor said for me. His voice is curt, clear. I barely registered that he was speaking for me. “She was admitted earlier today. Sorry, we aren’t sure when.”
“Are you family?” The woman typed something and then looked up from her computer, her gaze flicking between us. She’s older. In floral printed scrubs. In her searching gaze, that simply sought out confirmation, all I heard were accusations and thrown-away comments.Am I family?I almost choked on the words.Of course, I am. I’m her granddaughter. I’ve been family since the day I was born.I wanted to scream it. Scream at the top of my lungs. Scream at everyone around me. The woman at the desk continued to wait for my answer, but Thallor spoke for me again.
I took the visitor pass she handed to me. My movements felt mechanical as I glanced down at it. So sterile and separated from everything that I was feeling. The lanyard attached to it rattled slightly in my trembling hand as we walked down corridor after corridor.
Where is this fucking room?
The shiny vinyl linoleum flooring reflected my sadness back at me as we continued walking at a more hurried pace before coming to stand outside Maura’s door. I swallowed down another sob that threatened to spill out of me as I stared down at my own feet. My heart was in my chest, and I could barely think over the sound of my laboured breathing; the hideous grey surface of the floor like glue beneath my boots.
“I’ll be right outside.” Thallor’s voice cut through the fog in my mind. I nodded once before turning toward the door.
I pushed open the door and was instantly hit by the noise. Jarring. Blaring. The perpetual whirring sound of the machines reverberated through the space, seemingly completely indifferent to the pain that was threatening to engulf me. The pain that was threatening to take away the woman who had raised me. I was crumbling and faltering as my life crashed down around me, yet the machines continued to tick on–a metronome of taunting sounds–completely in contrast to how I was feeling.
Hoping that maybe, in the darkness, I could will everything away. I hoped that this was all a bad dream, one that if I pinched myself hard enough would disappear and cease to exist. But I knew that wasn't the case, not really. In fact, in the darkness, all I saw were images of my grandmother flooding my mind again and again and again. Like a bittersweet movie reel, I wasn't sure how to escape. A beautiful garden. Her laugh. The way she would squeeze my hand when I was having a bad day. The music that would play throughout the house becausemusic was good for the soul. A Sunday Kind Of Loveby Etta James poured into my mind and out through my eyes in a flurry of tears streaming too vigorously for me to blink back.
When I finally looked up at my grandfather, I felt that familiar lump in my throat return with a vengeance. “I’m so sorry,” I choked back as I hugged him. His eyes were puffy and red. There was a knowing in his eyes, too. A finality. Like he knew the inevitable was knocking on his front door, but he just wasn’t quite ready to open up.I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
He let go of me slowly, like he knew he had to let go of one of us but couldn't bring himself to let go of both. We both turned to look at my grandmother, but I didn't see her in the woman lying in the bed. This woman wasn't full of life. This woman was small. Fragile. A withered, unfamiliar version of the strong woman I'd always known. It was a numbing, sobering feeling.
I reached for the hand not hooked up to the IV and squeezed softly, hoping to cut through her unconsciousness and bring her some of the comfort she'd always brought me. It felt like a painful, full-circle moment. One that I wasn't prepared for.
“Maura?” I asked softly. My voice was hesitant. No louder than a whisper. She didn’t respond, but her fingers twitched, just a little.
I pressed my hand to my mouth, desperately trying to quiet the sound threatening to escape me. But my body prevailed as a broken sob echoed through the space. I felt like I was being ripped in two. And all that was left of me were choked back cries and a mascara-stained face.
For a long while, I just stood there, not saying anything else. I suppose I was hoping I would wake up from this horrible nightmare. I suppose a part of me expected to wake up seeing her smiling face at the dining room table, sitting in front of a plate of eggs and bacon, the way that my grandparents always had. But all I saw was faint lines of pain that pulled at the corner of her mouth. In the furrows of her brow. I squeezed her hand again to let her know I was there, and her eyes fluttered open slowly. The movement was slow, and it tookeverythingin her to do it. The corner of her lips twitched upward slightly and I swallowed back yet another sob. I didn’t want her to see me cry. Not when she was going throughthis.
It’s not fair.
It’s not fair.
It’s not?—
The tears began to fall faster. Like my body was physically trying to expel the sadness before it consumed me.
“Hi, petal.” Her voice was quiet. So quiet. And frail, so painfully frail.
“Hi,” I forced the words out. “I’m here. I’m so sorry I wasn’t before, but I am now. I’m not going anywhere.”
My grandfather stepped up beside me, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder.
