Page 24 of When the Leaves Fall

DREW

“ T hat’s us,” Dad replies. “Is she okay? Can I see her?”

The doctor has a worried look on his face. Oh no…

“Sandra is currently…” he hesitates before adding, “stable.”

“Stable?” I repeat.

“Yes, stable. She had another cardiac arrest shortly after arriving here, but now she’s stable and resting.”

“Can we see her?” Dad asks again, impatiently.

“Yes, the two of you may come back. We have another waiting area closer to where she is. Follow me.” He leads the way through a set of huge doors, scanning his badge for access.

We follow him down a hall where he points to the family waiting room.

“Please wait here, and the chaplain will be with you shortly.”

“Chaplain?” I ask worriedly.

“Standard practice,” he reassures me. “We always have one on staff to help keep the family informed when our staff is busy with patients.”

Dad and I both nod. The doctor shoots us a small smile and then heads down the hall.

“ I think I’m going to check out the local Fall Fest tonight,” I casually mention to Mom and Dad during breakfast on Friday morning.

“Oh, that sounds like a great idea, honey,” Mom says.

“Yeah, I thought so too. I heard Luca and some of the other nurses talking about it and thought it sounded like fun. And since you’re doing so well, I might just feel a little less guilty not being here.”

“Honey, you should never feel guilty about that,” Mom replies.

“Easier said than done, Mom.” I gently give her a peck on the cheek and clear her tray so she can use her table for other activities.

Mom has improved so much over the last few days.

It’s almost like night and day. Her cognitive level went from being around the stage of a six-year-old to basically back to her normal overnight.

She can have entire conversations with people, though she can’t physically hold her phone for long.

She can feed herself, even though it’s a bit messy.

Her doctors say she’ll likely be discharged next week, but we aren’t sure if that means she’s going home or to a care facility yet.

How she progresses over the next few days will determine that.

It’s hard to believe that a couple of days ago, she could barely complete a thought, and now we’re discussing discharging her.

Part of me hopes she’s well enough to go directly home, but another part of me isn’t so sure. I haven’t been back to my parents’ house since this happened. And I don’t know how well I’d be able to handle it. Seeing your mom die on the kitchen floor, that shit sticks with you.

I expected more time. I think I need more time.

I know I want more time with Luca. I’m not ready to let him go yet. I know it’s selfish. But we both agreed to be selfish right now, and as long as we’re on the same page, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.

If Mom were to go to a care facility, even if for a week, we could make sure she gets a little extra care and more time being closely monitored by professionals. And…it would give me a little bit longer with Luca.

While work has been understanding and flexible, it won’t be forever. I haven’t been on top of things and am falling behind on both the quantity and quality of work.

Most of the travel I do is for work, so while I’m constantly on the road, I’m still working. I’ve loved getting to see parts of the world I probably wouldn’t have been able to see on my own through this job. But I’m tired. I want roots. I want real friends.

I want Luca.

W hat the heck am I supposed to wear tonight? The clothes I have with me were ones I packed with New York in mind. They don’t exactly scream Fall Fest in a small Wisconsin town. I may need to do some shopping…again.

I hate shopping. It’s stressful. Weaving in and out between people, trying to push carts down aisles where customers are lingering right in the middle of the aisle.

It’s almost as stressful as driving and witnessing people make plain dumb decisions.

It’s not hard to use your damn blinker…or in this case, move your cart over.

You can tell it’s October when you look around this store. As I walk past aisles on my way to the clothing area, I see a mix of picked-over fall and Halloween products at the end of aisles and Christmas products already starting to get put on shelves.

Once I reach the clothing section, I experience something very similar. There’s one rack filled with flannels and fall/Halloween-themed shirts and leggings, and then the rest of the area is fully stocked with winter gear.

Okay, this is fine. I just need to find something cute to wear tonight. That’s all. It’ll be a piece of cake.

I sort through the flannels and happen to find one in my size. It’s a deep orange and it’s fitted. I usually prefer to wear looser shirts that don’t cling to me, but I guess it doesn’t hurt to try this one on, though .

Grabbing the flannel, I make my way to the dressing room.

On my way, I spot a table with jeans on sale.

I look down at the leggings I’m wearing and grimace.

Between New York and being at the hospital, my clothes are looking rather worn.

I dig through them and find a pair in my size, taking them to the dressing room, too.

I stare at myself in the mirror. These skinny jeans make my wide hips and thick thighs pop, and the fitted flannel shows my curves. I think I look cute. But I’m not used to dressing like this, so I don’t know. Is this what people wear, or would I stand out like a sore thumb at the event?

I open the door and peek outside to see if anyone else is in the dressing room area. I see a woman with who appears to be her teenage daughter modeling clothes.

“Excuse me,” I shoot them a smile. “Do you mind, uh. Hmm. Does this look okay?”

“I think so,” the woman replies. “But I’m also an old mom now, so what do I know?” she laughs and shoots her daughter a wink. Her daughter rolls her eyes, but her lips curl in a wide smile.

“I’m going to Fall Fest tonight,” I add.

“That’s perfect,” the daughter states. “It looks really good on you, and flannels are basically a staple here this time of year. Especially, for Fall Fest.”

“Oh, good.” I glance down at the outfit once more. “Thank you!”

“Gotta date?” The mom asks.

“Uh, yeah. Actually, I do. ”

“Lucky person,” the daughter adds.

“I don’t know about that,” I laugh.

The woman eyes me carefully. “Oh, honey- don’t ever talk down to or about yourself like that. Know your worth.”

“Yeah, what she said,” her daughter agrees. “You look amazing, and whoever your date is will think so too. And if he or she doesn’t, well, that’s on them. Not you.”

Heat rises through my cheeks. “Dang, you two sure know how to make a lady feel good about herself.”

“As it should be,” the daughter chimes. “Women should always support and uplift each other. We have enough problems in this world.”

I nod in agreement.

“Grab a pair of boots to go with the outfit,” the mom suggests.

“Ooh, yes!” The daughter adds. “A pair of brown thigh-highs will be perfect.”