Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 129676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Admittedly, I was frightened for my safety.
Friday’s encounter made me vomit uncontrollably for the rest of the weekend. Or perhaps it was my kiss with Tate.
No. It wasn’t. That kiss was divine. When his lips were on yours, you forgot all your troubles.
Deciding to cut my workday short (what could Tate possibly do? Fire his own wife?), I showed up at Mum’s treatment facility, armed with guava and cheese pasteles. Her favorite.
I’d found a Cuban bakery where they did them just right, and the lilting singsong Cuban accents of the workers reminded me of her. I desperately hoped they’d jog her memory.
Dr. Stultz explained the delay in starting the experiment with her was due to her fighting a few infections.
I found Mum hunched over an open book, perched on a rocking chair. She didn’t look at the pages. Rather, her blank gaze stared out the window, unblinking. A thin trail of saliva ran from her mouth down her chin.
“Hi, Telma.” I used her name, knowing even if she could hear me, she couldn’t recognize me. “I brought you your favorites.”
I removed the red-and-white kitchen towel off the straw basket and revealed the pastries to her. Her pupils remained stuck on an invisible spot past the window.
I inwardly sighed and settled on the incliner next to her. The last time she spoke was in the car on our way to the facility when I brought her from London. And before that, it had been weeks.
Tossing a look at the book she was holding, I noticed it was a worn-out copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. It gave me pause. I only knew one person who walked around with this book. And there was no way on earth he’d take time off his busy day to visit a complete, unresponsive stranger.
What were you doing here, Tate?
A nurse popped her head in the door a few minutes after my arrival. “Need anything?”
“I’m good. Cheers.” I smiled politely. “I did leave some pastries at the reception if you are interested.”
The nurse nodded but seemed in a rush to get out.
I hesitated, then decided to stop her. “Any update on when she starts her trial?”
She visibly winced at my question. “I’ll send a doctor to talk to you, okay?”
I pressed my mouth into a grimace. “Do you think Mum could do with some fresh air? Maybe I can take her out to the gardens downstairs if you help us walk her there.”
Her eyes darted to the corner of the room, and I noticed a wheelchair there, right next to a stand covered in orange prescription bottles.
So. They had moved her to a wheelchair. She could no longer use her own legs.
“Thank you,” I said around a lump of tears, clearing my throat. “For…thinking about her comfort.”
“Yeah.” The nurse bit the side of her lip. “No problem.”
Around an hour later, someone knocked on the door. Dr. Stultz walked in, holding an iPad with her chart. He seemed startled to see me but rearranged his wary expression into a polite smile quickly. “Oh, Gia. Good to see you.”
“Good to see you as well, Dr. Stultz.”
“I actually wanted to speak to you. Join me at the cafeteria?”
I rose from my incliner and kissed Mum’s cheek. “I’ll be here tomorrow. I love you.”
She was still staring at the same spot. I tried to remember if I saw her blink and decided that I hadn’t.
My eyes darted to an annotated paragraph the book was open on.
“You may have noticed, I’m not all there myself.”
My husband was a very strange man.
I hoped he’d never change.
I met Dr. Stultz in the hallway, but before I could close the door, nurses rushed in. I caught a glimpse of them mounting Mum back in her bed, setting the book aside.
“Do they take her outside when I’m not here?” I didn’t like that they didn’t read to her. Take her on long walks. Play her favorite music. Put on old movies she loved in the background.
I did all that when we lived together, hoping it would bring her back, pull her from the dark pool of oblivion her mind drowned into.
He placed his iPad on the reception desk midstride and laced his hands behind his back, his steps brisk. He was tall and bald with thick, dark bushy brows. His crow’s-feet told me that when he wasn’t on the clock, he had a lot of laughter and joy in his life. Usually, such things made me happy. Now, I felt nothing.
“Gia, your mother’s test results came back.” The edge of his voice grounded me back in reality. “They were not what we were hoping for. The initial metrics and tests prior to accepting her into the program were much more favorable. In fact, her condition appears to be past moderate and quite severe. I don’t know how we let that slip through the cracks.”