Chapter 41: Chapter Nineteen-3

“But—” I try to say but both men just head in different directions. Lee heads up to my front door as Mark goes back into his house to get his things. And that is how I landed two men under my roof without even meaning to. *          *         *           *            *             *         *             *       *             *         * For dinner, I end up just reheating leftovers. As I watch the meatloaf reheat, I think of Mom who had made it the day before. Mom who is now in the hospital, laying on a cold hard bed with nobody to hold her hand as she goes through this experience. I should be there with her. Even if the doctors don’t let me physically see her, I could’ve waited outside and been there for her mentally. Mom wouldn’t have left if it was me on the hospital bed. She would’ve stayed up all night if she had to. Mark barges through the door around the time when I set up the table. He’s carrying a small bag of clothes. “I’m here,” he grins. “Nobody cares,” Lee says as he continues flipping through the channels on television. He’s lazily spread on the couch; one hand holding his head and the other clicking buttons on the remote. I gave up trying to convince him to go home, knowing he wouldn’t budge anytime soon. I set up the plates around the dining table. Somehow in all of this mess, I’m glad to have both guys by my side. I would’ve been curled up in a ball crying all night if they weren’t here. I think they knew that so that’s why they volunteered forcefully to stay with me. A small smile escapes my mouth. I can count on them. Maybe not with love interest, but they’re good friends. And that’s enough for me. Mark sets his bag on one of the couches as he makes his way over to me. He gives me a big bear hug. “How are you holding up?” “Good,” I mumble, faking a smile. “Mark, you should probably not hug me right now…” “Why?” He pulls back, staring at my face. His face is confused. Then his eyes trail from me to Lee. “Is it because of him? Because I really don’t care about what he has to say. It’s none of his business.” I laugh a little. “No, Mark. It’s because I have a knife in my hand.” I pull my hand up, holding a sharp knife that I’m going to use to cut the meatloaf in slices. Mark laughs along with me before he helps me set up the utensils. When we’re done and the kitchen is filled with meaty smells, I call, “Lee, dinner’s ready.” He shuts off the television and hops off the couch. Lee is in his white office shirt and red tie. He took off his black suit jacket as soon as he walked inside the house. “Smells great,” Lee says, loosening his tie before sitting down. “Thank you for the meal, Miss Ivory.” “Don’t call me that,” I say before I sit down across from him and Mark sits at my side. We eat in silence as Mark tries to stir up conversation with me but I just keep to myself, worrying about my mother again. Will she be comfortable? Will she even wake up? Could she be in a vegetable state all her life? What in the world would I do without her? “What’s this I hear about you getting a fiancé,” Mark casually brings up, picking at the peas on his plate. The question is obviously directed towards Lee, who doesn’t change his expression but visibly tenses his body. Lee grips his fork a little tighter, but continues eating. “It’s nothing official yet. You know my mother, thinking I should get married as soon as possible.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin before drinking his water. “Penny is just a candidate for now.” Now he’s staring at me. “My mother just seems to favor her the most. She plans to make it official one day, but I’m not ready.” “Ah,” Mark smirks. “I wish you two a long marriage.” I stand up abruptly. Lee stares at me with worrying eyes as Mark continues eating. “I’m done eating,” I whisper. “One of you idiots wash the dishes.” I pick up my plate and place it in the sink before going to my room. Through the thin walls of my bedroom, I can hear Mark and Lee arguing about something. I change into sweatpants and a loose shirt. When I get back to the guys, Lee is watching television while Mark’s doing the dishes—of course. Lee wouldn’t touch the dishes even if you paid him a billion dollars. I switch off the hallway lights. “I’m going to sleep. You guys sleep wherever the hell you want. Good night.” I’m really not in the mood for anything. Having your mother in the hospital could do that to you. Without waiting for an answer, I head for the staircase. “Good night, Ivory,” I hear Mark shout as Lee stays quiet. Good choice. I drag myself up the stairs. I’m about to pass to my room until I see my mother’s bedroom door open. Sighing, I enter her bedroom. Her perfume is all over the room. I didn’t think I’d miss her so much. It hadn’t even been a day but there’s already a big hole in my heart. I run my hand across her dresser—all her makeup supplies stacked up neatly across the counter. Mom is a perfectionist. I smile a little. I run my hand through her photograph all over her tables. There is a picture of Mom and I in Orlando once. We had saved enough money to finally have a vacation so we took the first plane down to Florida. In the end, we couldn’t get in Disneyland because they had malfunctioned something in their computers with our tickets. We ended up just roaming around the beautiful city and going to other amusement parks. It was as much fun as it would’ve been if we had gone to Disney. I’m grinning like an idiot, holding as much cotton candy in my hands as I can in the picture. Mom has her arm wrapped around me, a big smile on her face as well. In the picture, she looks ageless. She looks young and happy again. I remember how we had asked a complete stranger to take several pictures of us. Maybe it’s because Mom’s the only parent I’ve basically known and had that this hurts more than it should have. Mom’s the only person that’s been there for me. I wipe away my useless tears. Tears won’t help me get her back. They won’t reverse her accident so she could be here right now. I need to stand up for myself and be strong for her. She wouldn’t want me crying and being weak. I keep running my hands along whatever I can find. Her art coat is lying on the bed. It’s covered in paint—all different colors and shades. There’s glitter and even some feathers stuck to her coat. There are oil pastels and parts ripped. The coat has gone through a lot with Mom. Taking a seat on the bed, I hold the coat close to me. It smells like Mom—paint and roses. Then the tears flow endlessly and I don’t stop them. For me to stop crying, I’ll need to drain my tears out. I curl up on the bed and hug the coat in my arms, pretending it’s Mom who’s there. Pretending that she’s not in a coma. Pretending that everything will be just all right. But I know it’s not. Somewhere in my tears, I slowly drift off to sleep. But I’m in the stage where I can’t tell if I’m dreaming or not when I feel a kiss on my forehead. I imagine it’s Mom kissing me good night like she always does. Did I dream that kiss?