Chapter Fifty-Three

I don't really remember what happens after that. After I get a call from Mom's doctor. I don't even remember the actual conversation. But I do know the scared, anxious feeling I get in the pit of my stomach. I do know I call a cab and soon am standing outside in the middle of the night in November.

           "Ivory, please, come inside," Daniel says, rubbing my arms up and down. "You don't even have a jacket or your passport or anything. You haven't even told me what's wrong."

             "I-I have to go. I have to go now." My teeth chatter as I speak and there is nobody else outside, no car nor person but I have to go. It feels as if my throat is clogged up and I have no energy to speak, just to worry and pray everything will be all right.

           Daniel rubs his eyes, groggy. He woke up when I was bolting out the door after making my cab phone call. I probably woke up his parents and Devon as well since I was not quiet at all. "Can we please talk about this first? Making rash decisions won't help anyone."

          "My mother," I finally say, "she's in trouble. The doctors—they say something's wrong. She's having a brain aneurysm."

          His eyes widen and his mouth wavers like he doesn't know how to react or what to say. "I'm going with you," he announces. "And that's final."

          He disappears into the house for five minutes. I feel numb and like the world around me is disconnected from reality. This cannot be happening. My mind is on the edge of dipping into the dark side where my terrible thoughts take over. They create me before I can create them, like little demons that possess my head into making horrible choices.

            When Daniel returns, he has our bags—we never really unpacked—and jackets, along with his little brother who looks angry and sleepy. Daniel wraps my jacket around my shoulder and I shrug it on, my eyes cast off staring into nothing.

            "If there's one thing my brother can do, it's speed," Daniel says as he opens the backseat door for me. I get in and he slides in after me, throwing our bags carelessly on the floor of the car. Devon gets in rubbing his eyes and starts the engine. Daniel puts on my seatbelt and then holds my hand as a thousand thoughts whirl around my head. His hands are warm despite the temperature.

            The car ride is silent. There's really nothing to be said in situations like this. When something sad or urgent is happening, it's like you have to shut off who you are for a second. You're in this strange mode where you're trying to uphold the peace of the situation, trying to survive and hold on to yourself and others. You can't attempt to make conversation or joke around. It's just meant to be a quiet moment.

           True to his word, Devon speeds, somehow making it past every stoplight a second before they turn red. There are a few cars out in the city. Streets and highways later, Devon pulls up to the curb near South Station. Daniel tells me there's no guarantees to flights and how it'll be a hassle with security checks and wait time, so trains are our prime transportation.

           The two brothers talk as Daniel leans in the driver's window and Devon whispers back with one arm slung out the window. They nod a lot and do a weird handshake clasp before Daniel appears by my side, one arm on my back and the other carrying our luggage. Devon zooms away just as the doors close behind us.

            Inside, Daniel seats me down in a chair, handing me hot chocolate from Dunkin Donuts. I numbly take it and sip even though it burns. The sting wakes me up, giving me some feeling. What does this mean? I know people can survive aneurysms but more times than not they're different whether in personality or physical attributes. Sometimes, they don't even make it. My mother's not that old—I don't understand. Nothing makes sense. What if she—

            "Ivory," Daniel calls, pulling me out of my thoughts. He kneels down in front of me so we're eye-to-eye. "The next bus is leaving in fifteen minutes and we'll get there around seven in the morning or eight. I've left a text for my parents and I've already bought us tickets. Don't worry about anything. I'll take care of it." He leans in, tucking my head closer and gives me a forehead kiss. "I got you. It'll be fine."

            I don't know if it's because he's so nice to me or if it's reassuring hearing someone else saying it'll be fine, but tears start to flow down my cheeks and my body starts racking in silent sobs. "Daniel," I choke out, my voice breaking even when I say one word.

            He clenches his teeth and his eyes look sad as if he can't stand looking at me like this. He pulls me back to him and tucks my head between the crook of his neck and shoulder. His fingers run up and down my hair soothingly. "Shh," he murmurs, "you're safe. You're okay and everything will be too. I won't let you suffer alone."

           I sit there, my hands holding the hot chocolate between my knees. Daniel surrounds me, engulfing me in a hug and whispering sweet things in my ear until my tears dry. We stay like that for ten more minutes before he kisses me on the forehead again and says we have to go. He helps the workers put our bags into the side of the bus before taking my hand and leading me on the bus. I sit by the window and he follows me, putting my seatbelt on for me once more.

           Daniel looks at me and then pats his shoulder. "You can sleep on me. You'll need the rest to be strong for whatever is awaiting for you in New York. And I'll be right there like I am right now. So, lean on me and get some rest. I'll wake you when we're close."

          I press my lips together because what in the world did I do to deserve a perfect guy like him? I might cry just from the unconditional support he gives me.

           I almost blurt out three words too quickly, so instead, I whisper "Thank you" and snuggle into his arm, intertwining our fingers. He kisses my forehead once more and I know he can feel what I'm trying to say and that right now, this is enough.

When I am shaken awake, the sky is now a light blue, the sun waking up around the same time I do. I lift my head and am immediately embarrassed when I see a bit of drool on Daniel's shoulder. He smiles as if it was yesterday's news and whispers, "We're about five to ten minutes away from stopping. We're in Harlem right now."

           "Sorry about the drool," I apologize. My voice comes easily now and the panic has subsided. Sleeping is a nice getaway and makes you forget the bad things...for a while anyway.

         "No worries," he replies, running a hand through his hair. He reaches into his backpack, his carry on item. Daniel pulls out his glasses, rubbing his eyes before he puts them on. "You okay?"

          I nod. "I'm good right now. Whatever is happening, we'll get through it."

         "We?" Daniel says, his eyebrows a little raised in surprise. "Yes, we will—together."

          Around twenty-two minutes later thanks to morning traffic, the bus drops us off at Times Square. We hop off and walk through the mass retrieving their belongings until ours are secure. Daniel pulls me to an corner without people marching through and tells me our plan.

         "I'll take our stuff and bring them to the dorm. You take a cab or train and go to your mom. As soon as I'm done, I'll race back to you. Okay?" he says, his face determined and serious and not at all like Daniel usually is. But it makes me feel safe knowing he can be just as solemn as he can eccentric.

        I nod in response to which he mirrors before setting off to get a cab.

            For some strange reason, I grasp his hand before he leaves. It's really embarrassing and I don't know why I do it but words tumble out of my mouth. "I don't want to seem weak or anything but uh, could you just hurry? I just...I really don't want to be alone at the hospital...in case the news is really bad. I have to tell my brother and I know it'll be the worst feeling telling him and...."

           Daniel's look of surprise melts away into a soft expression. He walks back, taking my face in both of his hands. "You are not weak. You are one of the strongest girls I've ever loved. Hell yes, I will hurry. I'll drive the cab myself if I have to."

          He laughs but I'm frozen as I replay his words. Love. Did he say love? What? What does that mean? I don't know— I'm—

           "You okay?" he asks, catching my skin paling. "Do you need to rest?"

            He didn't even realize he said it. Which means it's okay. It wasn't meant to be said. It's something we can talk about later. "I-I'm good. Thank you. I just needed reassurance. Thank you so much for everything, Daniel. See you in a few then?"

            "Sounds good."

            I lean in and give him a quick kiss on the lips before he goes. Daniel grins big and it's so bright it makes me feel fuzzy inside. Then he catches a cab and I start to jog to the subway.

          As soon as I step inside the hospital, the anxious fear comes crawling back into my stomach. I feel like throwing up the entire time I walk across the lobby. Down the familiar hallways. Until I reach the same elevator I always take. Mom's room has been changed since Madam Jin's conversation two weeks back. It feels like forever ago but it only happened recently. That I'm her—what even would I be—her granddaughter?

           I think over Madam Jin's conversation in my head as I zombie walk to Mom's room. The security recognize me and I pass by in a daze. There's a group of doctors standing outside her room, clipboards in hand as they discuss my mother in whispers. They probably just must've done whatever was needed to help her.

          When I walk up to them, their conversation stops. For some reason, I don't ask the billion questions I want to. All I can manage to say is, "Can I see her?"

            A new young doctor answers. I haven't seen her before but she seems like business with her straightforward look and serious face. Well, nobody would be happy in this situation. "Mrs. Flores is stable right now and there's someone with—well, first her conditions are—"

          "C-can I just see her for now? Or is that not okay? I'd like to talk about her conditions after I see her, if that's all right?" I say, interrupting her before she can tell me whatever terrible news she's been holding onto.

           She presses her lips together and nods, the other doctors looking wary and solemn.

         "Thank you." I don't know why but my voice is quiet and my throat begins to choke up again. She's not dead. They would tell me that. That much I know. So, there's nothing to be so sad about. Yet, anyway.

          I turn on my heel, facing the white door that I've walked through many times since she's been moved. There's a tiny window but it's blurry on purpose so there's not much you can see. Slowly, I take a deep breath in and let it out, counting in my head. 1, 2, 3. I press open the door and am surprised when I see three men in suits standing there.

         I look over the first man, his face one I've never seen. Usually, I'm not so paranoid. But with Madam Jin's stories and the pressure of the whole situation, I am ready to throw a chair at any stranger that I do not feel safe with or do not know well enough. "Who are you?" I demand, my voice infused with more venom than I realized.

          "Me?" the man has the nerve to say. He's in a black suit, black tie. Ear piece in. Why in the world is security inside the room? Their rules are clear. They guard the entrance and if there seems to be a problem, but the doctors are outside and what could security guards do to protect my mother that the doctors can't? I look at the pin on his chest—it's different from Madam Jin's security.

       I eye the area around me, looking for a weapon of any sort. Next to me, near the entrance is a tiny vase meant to hold flowers, not to bash people's heads in, but I'll take my chances. I grab it and dump the flowers out, pointing it at him. "Step back from my mother. Who are you?"

         "Uh—I—" His eyes wander to behind me, questioning what to say.

       "Who are you?" I demand again.

          "Ivory."

          That voice. No.

        I freeze, every bone and muscle in my body stops. Suddenly, the room is smaller than it already is and my hand lowers from pointing it at the stranger. I refuse to turn around. My breathing speeds up and my heart begins to beat at a rate that feels like ten thousand beats per second.

        "Ivory," the voice says, softer this time and I hear footsteps inching their way to me.

        "Out," he says to the two other men in suits. They leave the room, shutting the door behind them and suddenly it's like everything is too still. Like the world isn't turning and my entire life is in this one moment, in this one room. I feel numb and also like I'm going to throw up.

          A hand touches my elbow and turns me around. It's gentle but everything I feel right now is more of a tsunami of emotions. I look down, I don't want to see.

          I hear his breath do an intake but I refuse to look at him still. His hand is still on my elbow, holding it with a soft touch. I do not need this right now. I do not—

          "Your hair has grown."

            I tell myself I look up because I have to face the situation, because I can't just stay here all day looking at the ground. That's what I tell myself. But even I know...that's a lie.

          "Lee," I say and I don't know why I say it. It's a poor greeting, but I don't have anything to say to him. I shouldn't have said it. I haven't said that name in months. It feels foreign in my mouth, but my heart hasn't forgotten anything.

         When I look at him, I feel like someone's punched me in the gut. His hair is a little shorter and styled back as always, darker almost. Did he dye it? Is it because the summer glow is fading from his hair? His eyes are still the bluer than the sky, a little dull now. He looks tired. Has he been working too much? His face looks strange because I haven't seen it in months—out of place, new.

           The saddest thing in the world is you can know every curve and dip of a person's body, every whisper of their heart, but time can break and change so much, and suddenly the person you knew better than yourself...is a stranger.

           Lee's suit is gray, his tie a lilac color. His hand is outstretched, about to touch my hair almost out of habit. Is he looking at how much I've changed? Have I changed? He pulls his hand back quickly, his eyebrows pinched together in pain. We're not close enough to those things now.

           I remember our fight vividly. First, we broke up because our worlds were too different. Penny's pregnancy and his new reputation as his company's president—everything was fragile and would've been ruined if we kept dating. It was a mutual breakup. It hurt but we both had accepted it to some point and lived. It was for the better for both of us. It made sense.

          Then the first weeks of college rolled around and he had asked me to meet him. I was a hopeless girl, thinking he'd found some way to fix it all so we could be together. I had dressed up and met him at a restaurant...only for him to accuse me of selling his secrets to the world in anger of his engagement to Penny that had been announced the night before. That didn't make any sense.

          The anger, the feeling of betrayal, the hurt. It's like I put a small bandage over a gushing, open wound. I'm still angry, still hurt. Everything I felt still feels raw. But. But, why...why do I feel something else as well? Hope? I can't name the feeling.

         "What're you doing here, Lee?" I ask, my voice calm but just distant enough to show the gap between us.

          He runs a hand through his hair, messing up the crisp look of it. "I got a call about your mother."

          My eyebrows raise. "You? Why would they call you?"

            Lee's eyes look everywhere but me. "Well, before, I had it set that if anything were to happen to her that they would call me. I wanted to make sure your mother was getting the best care and would continue to receive it. I've hired some of the best doctors to look after her and—"

           "You were doing this behind my back?" I don't know why I'm being so difficult. I should thank him for doing so much already but I feel angry.

           "Not initially," he replies, looking uncomfortable. "I had this in place from the moment your mother was in that accident. I just forgot to change it after we...led separate lives. I just figured it wouldn't hurt to leave all my doctors and contacts in place to make sure your mother would be okay."

           How can I even pretend to be angry when he's always had the purest intentions for me? But then again, if he knew me so well, if we wanted what's best for me—how could he think I could ever betray him? I think I'm just hurt from that accusation rather than us breaking up. It made me feel like I never meant anything to him.

           "Well, um, I'm here, so it's fine if you have to leave," I say awkwardly. We don't have to be enemies. We can be civil. We can even be friends one day. Thinking about who we are to each other now hurts and who we'll be to each other in the future kills me.

            Lee bites his lip, holding back his words. He can't seem to look at me either. Eventually, he finds the courage to and looks me in the eyes. "Do you want me to leave?"

          All air leaves my lungs. I know he means in this situation, what's happening now. But his smoldering look and the words and everything we've been through—I can't help but overthink it. Is there a double meaning? What does this mean? Are we talking about us?

             I fumble with the vase in my hands, averting my eyes. "I-I don't mind. You can do whatever you'd like. I know you have work and your engagement. I wouldn't want to keep you here and waste your time." Why am I letting my hurt show? I feel so stupid and desperate.

           A few moments of silence pass.

          "I'll stay."

           I look up, pushing hair behind my ears. "Okay."

             He nods too and we just stand there in an awkward silence. We don't know how to be anything but who we were before. I don't know how to act. Are we friends? Do we tell each other what's been going on since we've last seen each other? Our feelings and history runs too deep to minimize our relationship now. I feel like I'm going to feel hurt no matter what we talk about.

         "Let's get that vase out of your hands and then you can take a look at your mother," he says, walking closer. His cologne is different. That's the first thing I notice. When he's close enough, he almost seems taller, but it might be just because I haven't seen him so long. It feels weird noticing new things about him because once, I knew everything about him.

         His hands clasp around the vase. "Oh, right," I say, my fingers moving to put the vase down. Somewhere in the moment,