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It’sanger.
“Why didn’t I get the call? The hospital should have— Someone should have called.”
There’s a short pause. “Marie listed me as her emergency contact.”
“You’re not family.”
“I’m her son-in-law.”
“Not for long,” I mutter as I rip the covers off my lap and swing my legs onto the floor. Ignoring the pain in my hip, I force myself to my feet.
But I wobble, and Arsen notices. “You should sit down. Your hip?—”
“—isn’t your concern,” I snap. “I don’t even want you here.”
“Well, I’m here anyway.”
I glare at him, but unfortunately, he doesn’t turn to stone.
“Is there anything you need?” he presses.
“I don’t need anything from you. I need… I want my mom.” The words unleash a loud, ugly sob that I can’t even try to hide. “I want to see her again. I want to speak to her again. I want to be able to hold her, to feel her arms around me one more time.”
These are the kinds of thoughts I should keep buried inside, but whatever energy I had to filter has been redirected towardsbreathing and standing and not collapsing into a puddle of grief that will never resolidify.
“Okay,” Arsen gets to his feet, his face somber but calm. “Let me see what I can do.”
He leaves me standing there like a moron.Let me see what I can do?What kind of response is that? Unless I’ve severely underestimated his persuasive powers and he’s managed to talk whatever higher being is out there to reverse their decision and bring Mom back, there’s nothing he can do.
But when Arsen walks back into my room, he’s not accompanied by the reincarnation of my mother. Nor is he holding black candles and chalk to draw a summoning circle.
All he has is a small red thumb drive in his hand.
“What is that?”
He doesn’t answer me. Instead, he walks over to the TV and inserts the USB.
“If you think I want to watch a movie?—”
The screen comes to life, and I stumble back against the bed. My knees hit the edge as I stare at the TV. Sitting just inside the screen, in blazing color, is Mom.
My body freezes. My blood runs cold. I blink again and again, but her face doesn’t dissolve. On screen, she’s perched by the window of her hospital room, wearing the rainbow-striped wool sweater I bought her for Christmas several years ago.
Arsen turns to me, a finger poised over the remote control.
“What is this, Arsen?” I whisper.
“You said you wanted to see your mother again. You said you wanted to hear her voice. Well, here she is. Why don’t you sit down? She has a lot she wants to say to you.”
I’m not ready, but I need this. I drop down onto the edge of the bed as Arsen clicks play.
Mom turns to the camera with a smile, and I clap a hand over my mouth. She looks so real—so alive. If I concentrate, I know I could smell her perfume.
“Hello, sweetheart.” She waves to me from the screen. “If you’re watching this, it means that you’re probably really sad right now. Pretty angry, too, if I know you like I think I do.”
“Yes,” I hear myself say, as though she can hear me, too.
“It’s okay, honey. You are well within your rights to be angry with me. You get to be furious, in fact. But I hope you know that, even though I’m tired of fighting, I wouldn’t have gone if I had the choice.”
