* * *
A chuckle built in my stomach, resonating through my ribs, reaching my lips. We were watching Friends. I was sitting on my favorite couch in my dad's hospital room. I peeked towards my left, only to see my dad smiling.
This was our routine. I would come here every day after school, we would watch Friends as I did my homework and at eight PM I would go home to sleep and wake up to go to school and then visit him. It has been like this for a month now. Chemo wasn't working anymore, and his organs were giving in. In all, I tried my best to stay positive, he needed to know I was alright and the least I could do was to give him that. For his peace.
"What's that, kiddo?" His tired, soft voice reached my ears. I rolled my eyes in response, I was 14 and he would still call me kiddo.
"I'm not a baby anymore, dad." I complained, seeing a smile grow on his chapped lips.
"Oh, you will always be my little baby. Now quit whining and give me that book." Now it was my turn to smile. I extended my arm to give him my biology text.
"You know, Darwin and Mendel were idiots." I laughed. "They were alive in the same exact time and they never crossed paths. Just think about how enlightening their meeting would have been for the evolution theory."
"It wasn't their fault, dad. They didn't have globalization back then. It's not like they could have found each other on Facebook or something." My father snorted.
"Still, idiots. Unlucky idiots." I knew he was only kidding. I loved that about him. He always put fun into learning. He knew everything about pretty much every scientist that has ever stepped foot on this planet. It was like a personal encyclopedia. "Do you need help?" He asked, handing me back the book. A dry cough left his body.
"Not for now." I said, handing him the glass of water placed on the food table. I quite liked genetics. Biology was my forte, hence me wanting to be a doctor. Anyways, it was expected coming from someone like me: Elizabeth Knox's promising daughter. But what no one really knew is that I would never want to be like her. I wanted to be like my father. "Thanks, though."
I kept on going with my assignment with the Tv as a background. My father didn't say a word and I didn't expect him to. He didn't speak much anymore. He was too tired, and his mouth was too dry and faded to talk more than necessary. I hated seeing him like this.
He, of course, had good and bad days. Today was a good one. He was in a great mood and acted as energetic as his body would allow him to. It was in the bad days where it was hard for me to remember he was the same man who a year ago was playing basketball with me on our house's backyard, or the one who would cook for me every single morning and come pick me up after school, the one who told me everything was going to be alright when my mother left for months without notice. The days in which he couldn't move, those when his pain was so strong, you couldn't tell if he was breathing or not. Those were the days I realized my dad was slowly leaving me.
"Hey dad," I said, biting the pencil I was holding. "I don't really get this." I continued with a frown plastered on my forehead. I heard no response. "Dad?" I asked once again, looking towards my left.
My body froze. "Dad?" His face was as pale as I have ever seen. He looked so lifeless my eyes started watering. His monitor kept beeping, which was comforting, but the state of alarm wouldn't leave my body. I stood up to touch his shoulder. "Dad, what's wrong?" He opened his mouth to speak but the monitor started beeping like crazy. "Dad!" He opened his mouth once again, this time lifting a hand to his throat. He couldn't breathe. I placed an oxygen mask on his mouth.
Tears started rolling down my face, blurring my vision, as I looked for the emergency button on the right side of his bed. Nurses weren't coming. His breath stabilized and for a few seconds I felt relieved. Then out of nowhere, the terrifying shrill of the machine started chiming erratically once again. He was in cardiac arrest. "Help!" I cried out, getting close to him and starting to pump his chest, just like he had once taught me.
«Where were the fucking doctors and nurses?! Where the hell was my mother?!»
"Come on, dad. Don't do this." At this point I couldn't see anything because of the tears. I wanted to wipe them, so I could see his face, but I couldn't stop compressing, I needed to save him. "Don't leave me."
I heard footsteps running down the hall into the room. What happened after, how the nurses got me away from my father's side I couldn't quite remember. I just watched the lady direct a nurse into charging the defibrillator to shock him.
"Clear!"
"Stop!" Just the sound of her voice made my blood freeze. "Leave him, Beck."
The chime wouldn't stop, it was like I couldn't hear anything but the deafening beeps. The ones that were ripping my dad away from me.
I am not ready!
"But-"
"I'm his wife, and your superior, so stop. Now." Everyone placed the implements back to where they used to be.
The beeping became faster and faster.
"No!" It sounded as if someone had been murdered. It was later that I realized that sound had come from my own body. My intentions were to get to my father and do something to save him, in contrast to all these inoperant people. My father was dying, and no one would do anything.
I felt two arms grabbing me from behind, preventing me from getting to my father. "Don't touch me!" I knew it was her.
"Amalia," her voice was so collected, so calm. I, for only a second, wished it was her in that bed and not my dad.
"Don't! What the fuck is wrong with you?! He is dying! Do something!" I tried getting free from her grip. I tried my hardest, but my body wouldn't cooperate.
"Let him go, Amalia."
"Get off of me!" I kept fighting, sobbing as I felt how my wrists became sore from the hold.
"Let him go!" It was as if her words had snapped something in the room and I couldn't hear anything but a ring, a constant skirl jabber until I heard nothing. Never in my life had silence been so pierce.
And then I stopped fighting, I felt how her grip became loose, tears stopped escaping my body as I turned around to face her. It was when I looked into her blank eyes, so empty and emotionless I realized: she had let my father go a long time ago.
* * *
"You don't have to come." I said with concern in my voice.
"We already discussed this." I didn't know if it could've been called a discussion. It was literally me saying it wasn't necessary for him to go -I wouldn't want to put him through getting into a plane ever again-, and him just brushing me off saying not going wasn't an option. "I'm going. End of this conversation."
"You're so bossy." I mocked him, staring at his eyes playfully. He smirked down at me, sending shivers down my spine as he grabbed my waist, pulling me closer to his body.
"Oh, you love it." I did, but I wasn't going to admit it. So instead I just crossed my arms around his neck, cutting the space between us.
"I do not." I lied. My eyes gave everything away. His smirk only grew wider in response. We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, it was as if we had entered into some kind of trance.
His eyes must be my favorite thing in the entire world. This week I had to meet my mother for the first time in three years, but the only thing I could find myself thinking about were his eyes. They were hypnotic. My view now focused on the rest of his face, which was handmade. Sculpted. My hand reached out to his cheek, molding him softly. Endless possibilities seduced my wandering thoughts, wondering how in heaven the gods had put on an act to create such a captivating creature.
His smirk had already died down and his eyes now transmitted an emotion I couldn't recognize. It was so intense I felt my knees weaken. It was something I was slowly becoming used to. His inscrutability, his mischievous working mind, one I could hardly tell with certainty what hid on its inside. I furrowed my eyebrows in question, wordlessly asking what he meant with that look of his. His reply came in a soft peck, one that was too quick for me to take it in. I pouted, unsatisfied. A chuckle left his lips before connecting them with mine once again, this time for longer. I'll never understand how someone can impart such an electricity from just a kiss. And how he still managed to make my body tremble, even after months of tasting those lips.
I felt how his hands traced the path from my waist to softly squeeze my ass, I squealed in response as he bit down my lip at the act. "Come on," He whispered, slightly parting our lips. "We have a plane to catch." And with a final peck, we took our belongings to take a cab to the airport.
This past week had been insane. I had never held so much stress in my body than these days. The blurry strain of my final exams mixed with the uneasiness of having to face my mother created this perverse chaos in which I found myself deeply immersed. Ethan had helped me in more ways I could ever think of, and for that I was forever grateful. From helping me with my sticky notes, to reminding me to ingest food and stay hydrated, to worrying about my sleep hours and stress release -if you know what I'm referring to-. I found out he was the perfect stress reliever I have always been yearning for. In all terms, Dr. Vennberg was definitely someone you needed around whenever life became a bit unbearable.
As the kind man gave us our boarding passes back, we made our way through the passenger boarding bridge into the plane. The ride would take at least three hours. That meant awful things to both of us. Three hours of agony for Ethan and three hours of getting closer to my so unwanted moment.
The trip, whatsoever, turned out to be quite calm after its first sixty minutes, in which I started to freak out. I never thought I would be in this situation. I never wanted to see the face of the person who had hurt me in incredible amounts ever again. She was supposed to be my mother, but that was only a name. My dad used to be both my father and my mother. He was there when I had my first sprain, when I got my first bad grade, or my first fight with a friend. He was there for my first period, he helped me out when I had my first crush, and my first heart-break. I was only twelve, so you couldn't quite call it a movie screen worthy of romance, but the point is, he was there. While she was at some kind of research project in god knows where. She decided to be a doctor over being a mom. I guessed her love for her husband died as soon as she realized their priorities were completely different. My father had to practically retire from being a surgeon to be a full-time dad, meanwhile my mother was nowhere in sight, going from Congress to Congress, ever so often sending a card for Christmas and my birthdays.
I got sent to stay with my aunt as soon as my father died. That day in the hospital was the last day I saw Elizabeth Knox, and I had hoped for it to be that way. But life had its strange ways with people, right?
I hadn't told everything to Ethan, but he got quite a few suspicions on what had happened, I just wasn't fond of talking about my life story with anyone. And he respected it.
"Hey." Ethan muttered, getting my attention. His eyes drowned in concern as his questioning eyes held an inquiry. 'Are you alright?' Were the unspoken words. I loved how, even though this was a difficult situation for him to be in -considering we were a thousand feet high up in the sky-, he was concerned about me and my wellbeing. I nodded in response, letting out a small smile, not wanting to worry him. "Come here." He motioned for me to cuddle in his arms. I gladly obeyed. The contact would be solace for both of us. Now my legs were on top of his and his arms were engulfing me warmly. I inhaled his comforting scent as I rested my head against his shoulder. Sleep washed over me, my eyes soon became too heavy to keep them open as my breaths began to diminish, my mind finally at peace. The last thing I felt was a mellow kiss against my head.
* * *
My knuckles contracted into a fist, before extending my arm to knock on the wooden door. An object that, in the moment my eyes connected to it, crushed me with memories like a furious wave. I soon found myself unable to press my fist against the door, letting my arm fall to my side once again.
I never thought that the sole ride from the airport to my mother's house would bring so many emotions back. Chicago was a beautiful city, and I wish I could find myself admiring its allurement instead of drowning in sorrow just by the mere sight of its streets. Everything reminded me of my father, my childhood and especially of Elizabeth's Knox absence in it. In this exact same moment, I found myself wondering why I was doing this. Why did I have to expose myself to such a draining situation just because my mother wanted to? Anger crept up my veins as I identified my young self to re-appear. The one who would follow her mother's instructions by inertia, because she felt so intimidated, so terrified of the woman who had given birth to her, she would do anything the woman would ask. To prevent her from leaving her. From leaving me.
But she did anyway. Nothing was ever enough for her. I was never enough for her. So why. Why, after all these years, why would I come back running to her the minute she asks me to?
The answer only made my nauseas raise.
«Because dad taught you that family came first, and although you were never her first, you have to be the bigger person. She is still your mother, after all.»
I felt a hand slightly press on my waist, taking me out of my thoughts as I realized the sooner I was done with this, the better. I looked up to meet my frightened eyes with Ethan's reassuring ones. It was all I needed.
I knew he wasn't completely informed about my past, but I was also aware that bringing him here, to my mother's house, asking him if he could please stay with me through the whole thing not only meant he was going to be my support, but he was also going to know more about me. This future event would be like opening a door of my twisty past for him to step into. I was letting him in, and I had never done that with anyone else but Kate. This was a step in our relationship, just like when he told me about his family. This was probably the scariest thing I had ever had to face in my life so far. And he was conscious about it. He was willing to dig up my past with me. And I could see that in his smile. It was one of the most genuine and comforting ones I've ever had the pleasure to conceive.
So I knocked on the door, knowing she would immediately know it was me behind it, because I've always knocked on them instead of ringing the bell. It was something out of the little number of things I had picked up from her when I was a kid. I wondered if she remembered it.
After a few moments, I heard the faint footsteps coming from the inside getting louder by each second. The door opened only to be faced by the exhausted face of my mother. She looked very ill. She also seemed unfazed by my companion and mine's presence, just like she always did about everything. I didn't know what to say or what to do, but my mother seemed to be quicker about it.
"Amalia." The same icy emotionless tone I knew too well welcomed my existence.
"Mother." It was all I managed to say. Her eyes had purple bags under them, as if she wasn't getting full-night sleep. She was the same intimidating person but with less energy.
"I am..." She stopped for a second, shifting her stare from me towards Ethan, now noticing his appearance. "surprised, that you came." She explained in a calm voice. "And you are?" She asked. Her eyes never leave him. It felt as if I had come home with my boyfriend for him to meet my parents, but this situation was far from that. Elizabeth Knox had a mom-judging expression, one that she didn't deserve to possess. She had no say in who I was with, she had lost that privilege a long time ago.
I was in such a trance from seeing my mother after all this time I couldn't bring myself to react. I heard him clear his throat before speaking. "I'm Ethan, ma'am. Ethan Vennberg." He extended his hand for her to shake.
"Oh, Vennberg, I see." An unreadable expression clouded her self. I couldn't tell if she was pleased to see me with him or if she was confused as to why someone like him would ever be with someone like me. Probably both. "Well, come in."
As we came in, more memories filled my brain and it suddenly felt as if I was transported ten years back to the past. My body stiffened. Everything was the exact same, except from the pictures of my father and I that used to be displayed somewhere in the living room. I had taken those with myself when I left. We sat down on the couch waiting for my mother to take place somewhere in the room.
"Do you want anything to drink?" Her voice sounded faint from the kitchen. I was so absorbed by the situation, I couldn't force my tongue to work.
"No. Thank you." Ethan answered for me, taking my hand in his at the act. He knew I was transfixed by the currency and I suddenly became extremely thankful for his existence. I doubted I would be able to be here without him now.
"I am going to make this quick, Amalia. I know you're not very fond of me." She spattered while taking a seat in one of the arm chairs in front of us.
«Don't make it as if it wasn't mutual, mom.»
"So, you already know I have Glioblastoma Multiforme." She started, giving me a folder which I already knew contained her scans. It was really Knox of her. GBM are malignant stage four tumors, where a large portion of tumor cells are reproducing and dividing at any given time. They are fed by an ample and abnormal tumor vessel blood supply. The tumor is predominantly made up of abnormal astrocytic cells, but also contains a mix of different cell types.
Her scan looked awful, to say the least. Ethan tilted his head to see it for himself and let out a sigh in response. I had a lot of questions but wasn't able to verbalize any.
"Have you...?" The man beside me asked. We all knew what he meant. He wanted to know if surgery was an option for her.
"I don't want surgery." She answered curtly. "Even Frederick has offered, but I don't really see the point of wasting resources and time on something like this." We both nodded in understanding as I gave her back the scans. In these cases, there was nothing you could do. It was like that with my father too.
"Well, I have already redacted my will and," She handed me an envelope for me to open. I slowly took it, taking its content out. I gasped.
No way.
"I am not accepting this." I said putting the paper that said a nauseous amount of money on it back to the envelope. "This is ridiculous."
"Just do. I figured after your father's death-" I flinched.
"You don't get to talk about him." I spit out with venom as the blood in my veins started to boil.
"Get over it, Amalia." I felt the buttons in me being pushed.
"Get over it? Seriously?" There were tears threatening to leave my eyes, but I forced them back in. I wasn't going to cry in front of her. "What do you exactly want me to get over, huh? You 'going away' for a conference and coming back after five years? You declining to operate on my father's brain, knowing far too well you could've saved his life? When you didn't follow the procedures of a code blue when he was actually dying? My father's death? Or are you just being shitty in general?" I was not that far from losing it. I felt Ethan's hand tighten his hold in mine, just so I knew I wasn't alone in this. I didn't really dare to look back at him.
"Your father wasn't going to die in my hands." She let out in a short breath. "I am not a good mother, because I never wanted to be one." I could tell you that her words stung, but they didn't. I already knew that far too well. "I know I wasn't the person I was expected to. I never meant to have children. I am a surgeon, that's all I am." Her eyes didn't hold a single drop of regret. They were completely blank, lifeless, almost. "And the only thing I have for you is half of my money. The other half is going to a genome research Chicago's hospital is making."
I stayed quiet for a few minutes, drinking this whole situation in. This was the mother I had always known, I tried searching deep in my mind memories from when I was younger than the age of seven, to see if I could find any trace of her being motherly with me. They were fading away too quickly.
I couldn't remember more than that one time I had fallen from the swings in a park -near the hospital my parents worked in and I cried for my dad. It hurt really bad and I wanted him to comfort me, but he was working, therefore my mother bought me a teddy bear so I would stop crying. I still had it somewhere in my apartment. Why had I kept it? Probably for the same reasons I came here in the first place.
This was the closest thing to an apology she could ever give me.
And as foolish as it might sound, I decided to accept it.