Return to Me (Breaking Free Book 2) Page 10

  When I go to step around him, he glides to one side, blocking my path. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

  He looks vaguely familiar, maybe. He’s not unnatractive, but more or less indistinguishable, brown hair, light brown eyes. He’s not too big or too small. Not tall for a man, but far from short. “Sorry,” I say. “Did we go to church together?”

  Since I was homeschooled, most of the people from my past either attended, or were in some way affiliated with that place. There were a few kids from my neighborhood I knew as well, but not many. My mother kept a pretty close eye on us to avoid having us corrupted by the heathens and sinners of the world.

  “I’m not good with faces sometimes,” I say with a small apologetic smile. If I wasn’t in my hometown, I might tell him to get lost, but chances are I do know this guy somehow. Maybe he really is from that church, because he’s giving me such a contemptful, hateful look I can only guess he wasn’t a big fan of Sinful.

  He huffs loudly, gives me one last reproachful look, and stalks around me, like the very sight of me disgusts him.

  Okay, asshole.

  Chapter 13

  Trin

  Sitting in the safety of my new, less flashy car, I suck down two cigarettes. The first tastes awful. By the second, I’m starting to remember what I loved so much about these things. My new car isn’t going to have that new car smell any longer. It’s going to smell like an ashtray.

  I call my sister Faith, who confirms what I already know. Our mother is in the hospital, and I learn she has pneumonia. “We just left from there,” Faith says. “Trin, you really ought to go see her.”

  “But how’s she doing?”

  “I just told you how she’s doing. You know how she’s doing. She has stage four lung cancer, and pneumonia. They’re talking about moving her to hospice care.”

  I flick my lighter a few times, watch the orange flame spring to life and wink out.

  “Let me get Hope settled in, and we can go out to see her together.”

  “I don’t need you to hold my hand,” I say sharply. I pause to light another cigarette. “Sorry. I’m sorry, Faith. I didn’t mean to snap at you. What room is she in?”

  “204”

  “Okay. Maybe… I’m a little busy right now, but when I have the time.”

  “Trin, I don’t know how much time she’s got left,” she says softly.

  We say goodbye, and I drive around for a while, thinking, smoking. I’ve been waiting for years on her to pick up the phone, and maybe she never will. By this point I can only assume she isn’t going to.

  It’s not fair. It isn’t right. She’s the parent, and I’m the child. I shouldn’t have to be the one to reach out. I made my mistakes, but she made plenty too.

  But I’m not sure if she sees it that way. She would tell me all the time, “I’m doing this for your own good, Trinity Adah.” In her warped mind, beating the shit out of me was for my benefit. She was trying to beat the devil out of me I guess.

  I faced everything else. Maybe it’s finally time to confront this too. If what Faith says is true, I might not have much longer.

  When I arrive at room 204, I’m almost positive this has to be a mistake. The emaciated, hairless and shrunken woman sleeping in that hospital bed can not possibly be my mother, but there’s her familiar bible with the worn leather cover, and a pair of delicate, gold wire framed glasses like she used to wear laying on the nearby table.

  She was always a bit heavy, and she had long, thick ash blonde hair that had never been cut once in her life. How awful must that’ve been when it started falling out? She doesn’t even have eyebrows now. Her cheeks are hollowed out. What used to be a bit of a double chin is nothing but a jutting angle with a bit of loose, crepey skin beneath.

  Logically, I should’ve anticipated this. She’s been through multiple rounds of chemo and radiation, plus whatever else they were giving her during those experimental drug trials. I’m not sure what I was expecting when I came into room 204, but it’s not this.

  Faith mentioned they were here visiting, along with other family today. She’s probably tired. I shouldn’t wake her up, but tucking tail and running off from this doesn’t feel right either.

  Quietly, I shrug off my coat, and lay it over the back of the chair. I wander over to the window. The afternoon sky is steel grey, overcast and bleak. She has a view of the parking lot. Leaning over, I can make out some loading docks and dumpsters. Maybe I can talk to someone, have her moved to a better room than this. I bet there are rooms on the other side of the hospital with a view of the mountains.

  “Trinity?” It’s jarring to hear that familiar voice coming from this woman who is almost unrecognizable to me. Her green-blue eyes are cloudy, bare of lashes, and underlined by sunken, dark circles.

  I come closer, and sink down on the chair. “Hi, Mama.”

  “It almost doesn’t look like you.”

  She’s one to talk. “I’m getting fat. I whacked off all my hair.”

  “Hush. You look beautiful.”

  Now that I’m here facing her, I don’t know what to say. In the past I’d envisioned myself giving her a piece of my mind, but all that anger I’ve been hoarding for years disappeared in a flash the second I walked through the door and got a look at her. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I didn’t think… I suppose, I didn’t think you wanted to hear from me.” The tendons strain along her neck as she swallows. “How are you doing, honey?”

  How am I doing? She’s the one that looks like a bald mummy. “I can’t complain.”

  “Faith said you’re doing better.”

  I nod quickly. “She said you have pneumonia.”

  “That’s what I hear.”

  “I’m gonna call Brent, my manager. He’s the one who’s been finding all these medical trials.”

  My mother starts to shake her head.

  “He knows people. He has connections.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I want to do that. They’re coming out with new stuff all the time.”

  “I’m starting to think my time is about up.”

  “Don’t say that. You can’t just give up.”

  Her soft sigh dies out in a wheezing cough. “There’s giving up, and there’s knowing when to hang it up. That day comes for all of us, and I’ve had more than they told me I was gonna get.”

  “And you can have even more days. You just have to keep fighting.”

  “Honey, I’m tired. I’m wore out.”

  My stomach sinks, and my bottom lip wobbles, but I get control of it. “I should’ve… I wish I had picked up the phone. I don’t know why I didn’t.”

  “I think of all my children, you’re the one that took after me the most.”

  I choke out a laugh. “How do you figure that?”

  “We’re both stubborn. We’re both as stubborn as a mule.”

  My throat is pin-hole tight and I can’t get out a single word.

  “Now don’t do that. There’s nothing to cry about. This body is just a vessel. You know that. I taught you that.”

  I nod, although I’m not sure if I really believe it or not.

  “I’ve had four beautiful children, and Hope, who is corker, isn’t she? And me and your Daddy had a lot of good years together. I think maybe that all happened the way it was supposed to, ‘cause now he has someone to look after him, and you all have each-” her thought got interrupted by a long, wracking cough.

  “Should I go get one of the nurses?”

  She shook her head, and eventually the coughing fit subsided.

  “I like that one song you did, Broken Oceans. It was pretty. There were a lot of pretty ones on that CD. Faith brought it to me.”

  Shaking my head, I dry my eyes on my sleeve.

  “I didn’t care too much for that other one.”

  My attempt at a laugh comes out a distressed huff. “No, I didn’t think you would.”

  “You always liked to do th
ings your own way though, and I suppose that’s not always a bad thing.” Her eyelids flutter, and her voice sounds weak, a little far off. “We both had to have it our way, didn’t we?”

  “You’re tired.”

  “It’s this stuff they give me,” she says, gesturing towards the IV bag dangling beside her hospital bed. “You wouldn’t believe how sleepy it makes you.”

  Oh, I know all about it, that warm, fuzzy, dreamy cocoon. What I wouldn’t give to feel a little numb to all this right now. “It’s getting late. I’m gonna let you get your rest, but I’ll come see you tomorrow, okay?”

  “That’ll be nice.” Her paper thin eyelids criss crossed with faint blue veins drift closed. “I’ll be here all day.” She gives a weak laugh. “I love you, Trinity.”

  “I love you too.”

  She’s out like a light, snoring softly before I get my coat back on. I almost want to lean over and give her a peck on the cheek like I did when I was a kid, but I don’t want her to smell the scent of smoke clinging to my hair and clothes.

  The world around me looks different as I exit that hospital room and backtrack through the wide corridor. Feeling a little outside myself, I take the elevator back down to the ground floor.

  My head is a mess. Hopefully I can remember where I parked in the garage. One floor down, the elevator stops and two nurses get on. I keep my face angled down. If there was ever a time I don’t want to be recognized, it’s now.

  “How did you get stuck working today?” One of them says in a high, girlish tone. “I thought you worked Thanksgiving. It’s supposed to be one or the other.”

  “I volunteered.”

  Recognizing that voice, I peek up. Even from the back I can tell clearly it’s Leah. Her straight, light red hair is pulled back in a ponytail that reaches halfway down her back. The dark blue scrubs clash dramatically against her pale skin. She’s willowy, long-legged, and pretty.

  Leah was always really pretty, with big expressive green eyes, and full, pouty lips. Someone like Leah wouldn’t need a makeup artists and a hair stylist to get camera ready.

  Growing up, I always felt plain standing next to her. Leah is a natural beauty. I’m a little surprised Gabe looked my way first instead of hers. Not only was I plain, I was foul mouthed. I got into trouble all the time, not bad trouble, but I never fit in with the crowd at that church. Gabe’s parents hated me so much we were forced to sneak around. Just until we were eighteen, that was the plan anyways, but I destroyed that.

  I didn’t only break up with him. I was unnecessarily cruel. It was simply easier to yell, than cry. I didn’t want to cry that day. I couldn’t. I was afraid if I started crying, I would never stop.

  “I guess it’s hard to pass up triple time,” the other nurse says.

  Leah murmurs her agreement.

  It’s not right for me to be jealous of Leah, but I’m ate up with it. I’m absolutely seething with it. She has everything I want, but I have no right to jealousy. I made my choices, and I just have to live with them.

  The elevator opens again. A twenty something man holding a fistful of brightly colored helium balloons gets on. His eyes lock on me. His face goes slack, then a smile begins to form. “Are you Trin Sinclair?”

  I shake my head quickly.

  Leah looks back over their shoulder. The recognition on her face is obvious, and it’s coupled with something else. Disdain? Contempt? I’m not sure what I ever did to deserve that look from her, but she quickly swivels her head back around to ignore me. Perhaps she wasn’t much of a fan of Sinful either.

  I bet Gabe told her about my breakdown. He signed an NDA, but they’re married. Maybe they laughed about what a raving lunatic I was in bed together, right after they had hot, sweaty, passionate sex. Not sex. I bet they made love, then Gabe kissed her forehead the way he used to do to me, and said, “Thank god I ended up with you, and not that nutjob.”

  “You are, aren’t you?” The guy with the balloons asks, standing far too close. “You’re Trin Sinclair.”

  I clear my throat, attempt to lower the pitch of my voice. “I’m really not, but I get that all the time.”

  He doesn’t appear entirely convinced. “Are you sure? You look just like her.”

  I force a laugh, and brush aside a curl from my face. “I wish, but I can’t carry a tune to save my life.”

  Leah snickers under her breath.

  I have a sudden, childish urge to pinch her. Maybe she feels betrayed that I dropped contact with her, but I felt pretty fucking betrayed when I found out she was with Gabe.

  The elevator doors spring open on the ground level. Leah and her friend go one way. I go the other. We’re adults now. I’m twenty five years old, and that’s all ancient history. Maybe she has the life I want, but I walked away from that life of my own free will.

  At eighteen, the thought of getting married, having a baby, tethering myself to this little town bored me to tears. I wanted to see the world. I wanted to get in my car and start driving, and I wanted Gabe to come with me.

  Maybe some stupid, naive part of me thought he might come around to my way of thinking. I hoped he would miss me and pick up the phone, but he never did. Why would he? I was heartless, and he had Leah to keep him company. He had Leah, and I had a three record deal. He got to stay in Trenton and settle down like he wanted, and I got to see the world like I wanted.

  We all got what we wanted.

  I finally find my car after a bit of searching. The first thing I reach for are those cigarettes. The second is my phone. I call Brent, and he picks up on the second ring.

  “Merry Christmas, doll. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you today.”

  I swallow back a tiny laugh. “I keep forgetting it’s Christmas. Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you today.”

  “It’s no bother. I’ve always got time for you.”

  I inhale a deep breath from the end of that cigarette, exhale a long stream of smoke towards my windshield, and stare at the glowing, cherry tip.

  “Are you okay?” The concern in his voice sounds real, but I know better. It’s fake. It’s all fake.

  “Mmhmm. Do you think… I was hoping you could make some calls for me. Not today, obviously. It’s Christmas.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Maybe there’s some new medical trial for my mom. There’s got to be something else out there.”

  “Yeah. of course. You know I don’t mind. I’ll get right on that tomorrow morning.”

  “Thank you. It would mean a lot.”

  “Where you at?”

  “I’m home. I’m in Trenton.”

  “We’re not far then. I’m in Charlotte. We’re with Sue’s family. You could drive out if you want. It’s only about an hour.”

  “No. No. I don’t think so. I don’t want to impose,” I say quickly. I definitely don’t need to see him right now. With the mood I’m in, if he asked “How’s your back holding up, doll?” I’m afraid I might answer, “It’s killing me.”

  “You sure?” Brent asks. “We’ve always got room for one more at the table.”

  “I’m sure. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

  I end the call and burst into tears. Maybe my mother doesn’t want to try another treatment, but at least she’ll have the option. Maybe she’ll change her mind.

  Thank god it’s Christmas and not another day. The only thing open today are gas stations, but they’re not allowed to sell alcohol because of the holiday. I’ve just got to get through the rest of this day, and tomorrow things will be better.

  Chapter 14

  Trin

  Brent calls the next day right before noon with good news. He spoke to a friend, who called another friend. I cut him off mid sentence. “She passed away early this morning,” I say in a numb voice.

  “Aw. I’m sorry to hear that. How are you holding up?”

  “I’m fine. I’m hanging in there.”

  “I’m going to drive out-”

  “That’s not necessary, Brent.
”

  “I can help you make arrangements.”

  “It’s already done. She took care of all that.”

  Brent clears his throat quietly. “I should probably still be there to handle the media.”

  “My mother died. This isn’t a publicity opportunity.”

  “I completely agree, but you know how this kind of thing works.”

  I exhale a long breath of smoke and frosty air, then crush my cigarette out against the deck railing. I know all too well how this kind of thing works. One person says something to another person, and before you know it there are one, or several news vans outside. I wonder how long I’ve got before they show up. One day? Two? “Maybe you’re right.”

  Brent arrives an hour later. He can barely contain his shock when I swing the door open to let him in, but he doesn’t chastise me for cutting my hair, or getting chubby. Not yet. He hugs me, and rubs the back of my shoulder.

  I don’t trust Brent. I know better than that now, but there was a time I trusted him a great deal. In the beginning I was too naive and trusting for my own good. It took me quite a while to sort him out, to understand that I was a commodity to him.

  “I’m almost five months sober,” I say against his shoulder. Best to get that out of the way first off. “And I plan to stay that way this time.”

  “Good. That’s a good thing, Trin. I’m proud of you.”

  “My family will be here soon.”

  “That’s good too. You need them right now.” He pulls back, and scrutinizes my face. His fingers push the hair back from my face. “I’m going to call someone to come take care of this.”

  “I’m not posing for pictures.”

  He shakes his head. “Of course not, but you know they’re going to get a few, right?” He smiles. “I like it, but it’s not the Trin Sinclair everyone knows and loves, is it?”

  Sometimes I wish I had chosen a different name to perform under. Why in the hell didn’t I? Trinity is such a stupid name, but when I first arrived in Nashville, I was determined to make a name for myself while maintaining my identity. I succeeded in one of those endeavours anyways. In either case, what’s done is done, and he’s right. My hair is a disaster.