Page 86 of Latte Girl
He’s goingupstairsnow.
“Shit,” Icurse.
I look over at my mom. She seems even worse now. The nurse is kneeling in front of her, trying to get her to focus, but she keeps shakingherhead.
Then the door bursts open and my father strides in like a blast oficywind.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demands, his voice vibrating through the room as he turns to me. “You should never have been allowed in here. Look what you’ve done.Lookather.”
His eyes land on my mother and his clenched fists start to shake. All my life, I’ve never seen him so much as tremble. He turns back to me and advances until I’m backed against the wall. Without thinking, I raise my arms up as if I’m preparing to ward offablow.
“Was it worth it? Was it worth doing this to her,Jordan?”
Spit flies off his lip. His eyes flash like the glint of aknife.
“Excuse me,” the nurse calls. “Could you please take this outside? I need peace and quiet in hererightnow.”
My father wheels around and I lowermyarms.
“Therewaspeace and quiet, until you let my soninhere.”
“Sir, if you both don’t leave the room now I’m going to call someone to remove you. Please. Your wife needs time tocalmdown.”
Mom looks like her eyes are about to pop out of her head. I realize how right thenurseis.
“Dad, let’s go,” Imutter.
His voice crashes down on me like thunder. “Don’t you presume to tell me what to do. If youhadn’t—”
“Stop.”
My mom’s voice is just loud enough to be more than a whisper, but at the sound of her single syllable, we all fallsilent.
“Just...stop.”
She’s panting, concentration etched in her face as she fights to get thewordsout.
“I love...Jordan. I want— I want—” she stammers, and then turns to the nurse. “Pen,please.”
My father and I watch as the nurse rushes to the bedside table and pulls out a notebook and pen. She flips the book to a blank piece of paper and hands them both to my mother. We stand in silence as she writes, the pen wavering in her hand. She grumbles in frustration and a few times it looks as if she’s about to give up, but the nurse soothes her and encourages her to go slow. She writes for close to fifteen minutes, but neither me nor my father move or make asound.
When she finally sets the pen down, the nurse takes the notebook from her hands and brings it to us. The handwriting is disjointed and crooked, but I can still make out thewords.
I love you both. I want you both to behappy.
Emerson, I thought we knew how to make Jordan happy, but only he knows how to do that. We gave him a life. Now we have to let himliveit.
Jordan, I am sorry for all the pressure we’ve put you under. I am sorry if you thought any of this was your fault. It’s not. You deserve to go after the things you want, not just the things we wantforyou.
I’m weak now. This stroke has taken so much from me, but it has also taught me something. It has shown me that life is short and not to be wasted. If you two can’t settle your differences for the sake of one another, then settle them for me. Please. I don’t want us to waste anymoretime.
I look up from the paper and I know the tears in my eyes are about to spill over and fall. My mother is watching us from her chair, scanning both our faces for the hint of areaction.
I don’t even look at my father. I cross the room and takeherhand.
“Anything foryou,Mom.”
She smiles down at me and then lifts her head up towards my dad. I hear him approachbehindme.
