Page 8 of Control

Alana

“I’ll be fine for a few hours.”

Standing at the foot of the hospital bed, my mom was wary. Despite my repeated insistence and the doctor’s reassurance, Sherry Wolf wasn’t convinced. She was staring at me like she thought I might vanish if she dared to blink.

A vision of Mrs. Fitzpatrick flashed in my mind, and I let go of some of the frustration I felt. It wasn’t easy for moms like mine and Yasmine’s to cope with situations like this, even if what my mom was experiencing didn’t come close to Mrs. Fitzpatrick.

“Are you sure you don’t want Dad to just run out and grab something quickly? I can make the soup tomorrow, when you’re allowed to go home.”

I sighed, feeling nothing but disappointment at what this was doing to her. “If you don’t want to make it, that’s fine.”

“It’s not that, Alana. I’ll do anything you want, but I’m worried about you. I don’t want to leave you here alone,” she explained.

“It’s only going to be for a couple of hours. And I can promise you, it’ll be the best thing you can do for me. Nothing would make me feel better right now than to have your creamy chicken, spinach, and mushroom tortellini soup.”

My eyes slid to the side, noting the compassionate and understanding look on my father’s face. Norman Wolf was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Because he knew this was how my mom was, and he never wanted to do anything to deny her the right to her feelings. At the same time, now that it had been hours since they’d received the call I’d been in an accident—I’d been brought in yesterday, for crying out loud—and he’d verified for himself that I was okay, he understood his wife was overreacting.

“Okay. Okay, we’ll run home, and I’ll make it as quickly as I can,” she said, the tone of her voice an indication she was attempting to justify why it’d be okay to leave me. “But if anything changes, or you need us, please call, and we’ll head right back over here.”

I smiled at her, wanting to give her that last bit of encouragement. “I’m going to be thirty-one in just a few months, Mom. I think I can handle two hours on my own in a hospital, where people make a living taking care of others.”

“I understand. But I’m just worried about you. What about Jordan? I can call and ask him to come here. This way, you’ll only be alone for just a few minutes.”

I shook my head. “I know you’re worried, but no. Jordan’s so busy at work right now.”

“You’re his sister. He’d come and stay with you,” she insisted.

“Of course, he would. And I love him for it. But Jordan called me earlier today before they took me in for surgery, and I know he’s swamped with depositions. It’s really okay.”

My older brother was an attorney—an excellent one, at that—and the two of us were especially close. As soon as he found outwhat had happened to me, he didn’t hesitate to call and check on me. He was in the middle of a huge case, and getting away would have been a challenge.

Obviously, if this had been a life-or-death situation, he would have dropped everything and rushed here. But I assured him I was okay and insisted he not rearrange his entire schedule. He’d find the time to visit me soon enough.

My mom was a different story. She was here, could see I was doing fine, and still worried. I’d never known a day when my mother wasn’t anxious about something. It was so bad, she didn’t even drive.

And though it bothered me to keep the truth from my parents, I allowed them to believe the reason I was here now was because of a freak car accident. My mom already struggled with the work I did, insisting from the start that I’d wind up in some precarious positions, so this would only add to that growing fear.

Fortunately, I could count on my dad to give her the time and space to express her concerns before he’d eventually step in and reason with her.

“Sherry, darling, if we want Alana to be able to leave here tomorrow, I think it’s important we help her follow through on the doctor’s orders,” Dad finally interjected. “Now that she’s out of surgery, she needs to get some food in her. Our daughter has made it clear the hospital food isn’t her first choice, and you told her she could have anything she wanted. The sooner we go, the sooner we can get back.”

When he put it like that, Mom couldn’t argue. She moved around to the side of the bed, took my hand in hers, squeezed, and said, “We’ll go as fast as we can.”

“I’ll be here when you get back.”

My mom leaned down, kissed my head, and reminded me, “Call us if you need anything.”

“I will.”

After she released my hand and stepped back, my dad moved forward to kiss my forehead and say goodbye. Then, I was alone.

And for the first few minutes, I just closed my eyes and let out a deep sigh. I wanted just a moment of peace, to be able to relax and not think about anything.

I wasn’t so lucky.

To anyone who might have walked into the room, I was certain I’d look like I was sleeping, like I was feeling nothing but contentment.

It would have been an incorrect assumption, though.

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