Page 97 of Ruthless Lullaby

It’s time, Mindy.

Time to pee on a stick.

I tear open the test’s packaging, go to the bathroom, and do my business. Once done, I place the kit on the edge of the sink and anxiously wait. I should have done this yesterday. At least Betty would have been here to keep my company. Time seems to stand still, so I start pacing back and forth, my heart hammering against my chest. I continue pacing for what feels like hours, too scared to even glance at the results.

But eventually, I have to face the music. I take a deep breath and muster the courage to look at the stick.

And sure enough, there it is.

My heart feels like it wants to stop and I’m suddenly dizzy. I must look like someone who just saw a ghost. Because two lines, two small blue lines are staring back at me, as if they are trying to mock me with their presence.

I stumble out of the bathroom and collapse onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling as the reality of the situation begins to sink in.

Pregnant.

With Maron's baby. The man I ran away from. The man who terrifies me as much as he turns me on.

Now what?

How is this even possible?

Minutes go by and I'm so lost in my own swirling thoughts that I almost don't hear my phone ringing. It’s when I glance at the screen that my breath hitches: it’s a number from St. Mary's Hospital.

“Hello,” I answer, my heart thundering against my ribcage.

“Miss Williams?" Dr. Walker here.”

“Dr. Walker. Is this about my mother?”

“Yes," he says and clears his throat.

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly running dry. Calls like this, out of nowhere, are usually not a good sign. "Is she... okay?"

There's a pause on the other end. "I'm afraid not, Miss Williams. Your mother's condition has deteriorated significantly in the past twenty-four hours."

I feel like I’m being punched in the gut. The air rushes out of my lungs, leaving me breathless. "I see... what does that mean?"

Dr. Walker’s voice is sympathetic. "It means that we've done all we can to treat her cancer, but… I’m afraid she’s no longer responding to the treatment. We've made the decision to move her to comfort care, so we can focus on managing her pain and making her as comfortable as possible. I’m so sorry, Miss Williams."

Tears sting my eyes as I begin to comprehend the reality of his words. A heavy weight settles in my chest, pressing down on me until I find it hard to breathe.

No.

How can this be?

What about those memories we were going to make?

I blink rapidly, trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. It's as if the world has tilted off its axis, leaving me grasping for something to hold onto, but there's nothing - just the crushing inevitability of what's to come.

Mom…

My hands tremble, and a deep, aching sorrow wells up inside me, stealing away any semblance of strength I thought I had left. I just stand here, paralyzed by the devastating truth that my mother, my rock, the person I love most, is slipping away from me, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

"How... how long does she have left?" I ask, no longer trying to control my tears.

"It's hard to say for sure," Dr. Walker replies gently. "Based on her current condition, we estimate that she has a few days at most."

Oh, dear God…

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