“So, why are you calling me?" Vasko asks after a long pause. "If everything about this company is so bad and you have no interest in investing, why are we having this conversation?"
What I don't tell him is that I think that Cedar has made some sort of back door deal with him and he thought that he could get it past me, but he can't.
"I don't have a choice. My boss said that we're going to invest, so I'm here to tell you that you're going to get a $5 million infusion of our investors’ money."
"Oh, good. Good, good, good," Vasko says quickly.
I can hear him tapping his pen on the table, almost rushing me off the phone.
The fact that he's not more excited about the news just confirms my suspicions.
"What I'm going to tell you now is that you are going to spend every last cent of this money in the legal and appropriate way. Cedar may not take his job very seriously, but I do. The investors depend on my recommendation and I'm going to make sure that the decisions that you make with this money aren't wrong.”
32
Jacqueline
My mom’s surgery doesn't go as planned, there are complications, and a lot of blood loss.
Dr. Ellis tells me the news in an overly lit hallway, tilting her head to one side.
"So what's going to happen now? What does this mean?” I ask, burying my hands in my pockets.
"It's a wait and see kind of situation," she says. “We have her sedated, but it's going to take time.”
How can this be happening? I shake my head. No, no, no, no, no, this isn't right. I want to stomp my feet, throw a punch, hurt someone, so that someone hurts as much as I do.
Later that afternoon, they show me to her room, machines and plugs are everywhere.
Sedated, asleep, trapped somewhere between here and another world.
I tell her I love her. I tell her that I'm here and I sit in the chair next to the bed for hours until they tell me I can't stay any longer.
Darkness falls. I return to the hotel apartment and look around at my mom's clothes. I was supposed to be here tonight, alone, but tomorrow, or maybe the day after, she was supposed to come back with me.
The surgery was going to make everything better; remove the cancer, extend her life, not make her a vegetable.
Don't think like that, I say to myself over and over again, as I pace around the living room.
My legs start to feel incredibly heavy, impossible to lift. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I pull them up to my chest and hug myself as tightly as possible.
What am I going to do now? I wonder as my body begins to shake.
My income is running out.
The little bit of savings that I had is practically gone.
I was going to start looking for work after we got back. But staying here longer? That never occurred to either of us. I can’t even afford this apartment for another week and our flights back are booked for Friday.
I hate how selfish and narcissistic I am being, thinking about nothing but my own problems.
But the truth is that's what I have to do; not think about the possibility of her not coming out of that sedated state. If I let my mind go there, if I think about even the slightest possibility of her not coming back to me, I just don't know what I'll do.
The following day is just like the one before and the one before that. There are updates on oxygen levels.
The pulse ox level is at 87%. Her condition is now considered critical, but stable, but she's still sedated.
I want Dante to be in touch, but I don't expect him to be. We texted a lot initially, but I keep waiting for him to leave me hanging, especially after I tell him that the surgery didn't go well.
When I called him that night after I came home alone from the hospital, when I cried and I cried, I knew that I was burning bridges. I was overwhelming him with too much drama and he had every right to never talk to me again.
And then I didn't answer any of his calls the next day. I ignored him for three days.
I pushed him away, and yet he kept coming around.
It's like there was nothing I could do to scare him off, and that's exactly what scared me.
During those first few days of waiting in the hospital room, every minute was like an hour and every hour was like a day.
I sit alone in the hospital room where nothing changes except for the numbers on the monitors that are hooked up to my mom.
But being alone isn't good for me. I reach out to a few friends. The only one that calls back is Allison.
We video chat and I relay all the statistics and the information that I know, and I feel like I’m talking about sports.
"She's going to get better. She's going to get better.” Allison keeps promising me.
These are empty promises, just like the ones that I made to myself. But I’ll take any prayers, good vibes, and well wishes that I can get at this point.
When the conversation reaches a lull, I ask Allison about her boyfriend. Sitting on the couch, she props her phone up higher on her knee and rolls her eyes.
"What's going on? Did I hit a sore subject?" I ask.
She makes another face.
"Okay, now you have to tell me.” I smile.
"No, I'm not going to tell you."
"Come on."
"Well, he doesn't exactly agree with my lifestyle choice, if you want to call it that."
"What's the problem, exactly? Does he want to join you or is he being jealous?”
I like talking about this; it’s a nice distraction.
"Well, for one, I don't think he has a say at all since I wouldn't call whatever we have an official relationship."
“I guess…” I force myself to agree.
"I just don't understand why he's so upset about it."
"Which part again?" I lean over closer to the phone, taking a sip of my water. It feels good to talk like this.
"He's jealous, and of course he wants to come."
"And you don't want him to come?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.
"I don't know if I'm ready for that."
I can't help but laugh.
"Look, it's a serious problem," Allison says. "I think I'm going to break up with him. I kind of like this one guy I met at Redemption."
I smile, considering the irony of the situation. "You know, you're not supposed to date people you meet there."
“Yeah, it’s probably a mistake."
"Tell me that this guy at least doesn't have a…” I’m not sure if I should say girlfriend or wife so I settle on, “partner.”
"No, he doesn't.” Allison shakes her head. "I'm certain of it."
I have told her a little bit about Dante, but suddenly I'm tempted to tell her more.
"He keeps calling me," I say.
“Is that a bad thing?”
“No, but ... I cried so much when I told him about my mom."
“What does that matter?”
"I feel like an idiot. I mean, I literally sobbed into the phone and just told him everything that was going on, and I haven't talked to him since."
"How long has it been?"
"Like three days."