Page 61 of The Wedding Party

I want to grab her and shake her.

I want to scream.

I want Oliver to be alive.

I draw a breath and will myself to calm, only to have my mother throw her arms around me and hug me. Now she’s helping Danielle with her narrative, because having my mother hold me right now is really going to make me crazy.

Chapter Fifty-Two

My mother begins to sob and does so to such an extreme there is a kind of howling sound coming from my shoulder where her face is buried.

Her meltdown makes mine look tame at best and my father steps behind her, hugging her and murmuring in her ear. My new attorney I didn’t even hire responds a bit more fiercely. “In the room,” she demands, pointing. “And hands off, Officer.”

The officer looks toward Agent Castle, who I’m just realizing is by our sides at this point and here for the show.

Castle motions to the officer. “Let her go. She’s not going to run away in a hospital gown with an IV pole attached to her arm.”

She’s right. I’d remove the IV, cut the line, and change clothes if I were going to run, but of course, we’ve established that I’m not going to do that.

Nurse Ava appears by my side. “You know it’s not safe to walk around yet,” she says. And as if I didn’t just scream in the middle of the hallway, she ushers me inside and orders me into my chair. Her gaze goes to my cake. “You should have eaten the cake. It would have kept you out of trouble.”

Now she’s scolding me like a child, but it’s a deserved scolding. She’s right. I should have eaten the cake and stayed in my chair.

There’s a bit of chaos that follows, and a shifting of bodies, before finally my parents, Danielle, and the doctor are in the room as well. Danielle shuts the door on law enforcement and watchful eyes.

The doctor motions for Ava to leave. She nods and turns her attention to me. “I’ll be back to check on you,” she vows, and even before she departs, my mother is on one knee by my side.

“How are you?” she asks, her cheeks streaked with mascara, her eyes bloodshot and weary.

“I’m just trying to survive, Mom,” I whisper.

“I can get you another dose of Valium,” the doctor offers. “It’s certainly reasonable under the circumstances.”

I shake my head. “No more drugs that numb and cloud my mind. I don’t want to feel what I feel right now, but I need my memory to return, and drugs are not going to help.”

“Agreed,” Danielle interjects. “No more drugs. And we need a few minutes, Doctor.”

He ignores her and remains focused on me. “How is your head feeling?”

“Throbbing,” I say. “But I’d rather feel that than other things right now.”

“You’re clearly improving,” he observes, vague on his definition of improving. “And while that’s good,” he continues, “it’s okay to need some relief.”

“I’m an ER nurse,” I say. “I know how to check my emotions. I need to be clearheaded to do that.”

He studies me a moment, and I wonder if he’s judging me for my cocktail of drugs, but nothing I take causes mental impairment. If he is, thankfully he lets it go. “Understood, but I’ll approve meds if you need them.” He nods at me, before he heads toward the door and exits.

Now it’s just me, my new attorney, and my parents in the room. I wish I could say this is when I can finally breathe again.

It’s not. I can’t catch my breath.

Chapter Fifty-Three

I find myself doing what I often do with my parents. I withdraw, arms folded in front of my chest, a shiver overtaking me, followed by another, and yet another. “You’re cold,” my mother assumes, quickly grabbing a blanket from the bed and wrapping it around me.

There was a time when I wanted her to take care of me, especially after Eric died. If she fussed over me, she didn’t blame me—that had been my logic. But somewhere along the way, that shifted, changed. I started to realize that her “fussing” wasn’t about love but rather distrust—in my actions, my choices, my ability to take care of myself and others around me.

I’m self-analytical enough to know that’s exactly why I became a nurse. Not to follow in her footsteps but to prove that not only can I take care of myself, I can take care of others, and I’m good at it. Really good at it.