Page 10 of Close Match
Simon and I meet in the middle. I sink into a deep curtsy while he regally bows. We do this four more times; the waves of applause keep coming. Usually, I’d be overwhelmed with the audience’s response.
But it’s all I can do to stop myself from running offstage to get to my mother.
The minute the curtain closes, I dash off, with Simon hot on my heels. “There’s a car waiting for you,” Pasquale calls out. “Blue BMW out the back door.”
Fluttering my hand at him, I only stop in my dressing room long enough to grab my purse. Knowing our costume designer will likely have a meltdown over us leaving with show property, I mutter, “Like I give a shit,” to myself.
Simon utters a distracted, “Hmm?”
“Asia’s reaction to us taking the costumes off set.”
“I agree.”
Twenty of the most hellish minutes of my life later, we’re jumping out of the car and racing into the crowded hospital emergency room. Simon texted Bristol when we were close, so she’s waiting for us. She races into Simon’s arms the minute she sees him before reaching an arm over for me. We’re in a tight little huddle before she whispers, “I’m so scared.”
We’re buzzed through the door. Simon and I quickly get a wristband attached so we can move into and out of the ER. “What are they saying?”
“They’re running tests. They think it might be a stroke or a heart attack.”
I stop in the middle of the hallway. “Mom? The woman eats like a damn rabbit and is in terrific shape. Are they crazy?” This is completely unbelievable.
“That’s what the cardiologist said, Linnie. They just took her for testing.”
“So, we have to wait?”
Reaching for the pins placed around my head to hold the red curls in place, I begin plucking them out. I need to be me, Linnie, not the actress Evangeline Brogan, when I face what’s going to happen. “How long did they say it’s going to take?”
Bristol checks the clock on the wall. “A few hours.”
“Let me text Pasquale and see if he can drop off some clothes for us. He can take these back because there’s no way I’m making it to tomorrow’s performance.”
“Me either,” Simon declares, wrapping Bristol in his arms.
Pasquale assures me he’ll have both Simon’s and my street clothes here in half an hour. He also wants an update on Mom, which I can’t give him.
I wish someone would come in and give it to me.
* * *
“Hello.I’m Dr. Pilcher. I’m the head of Cardiology here at NYU. Are you the family of Brielle Brogan?”
We all jump up from where we’ve been sitting uncomfortably in the cramped cubicle where Mom’s supposed to be returned. “Yes. Can someone please tell me where my mother is?” I demand.
“Come with me and I’ll take you to her.” His voice is brisk, and he turns out the door. Bristol scrambles off Simon’s legs to take my waiting hand. Simon grabs our bags and quickly follows.
“Ms. Brogan,” the doctor begins, but I snap. My patience is at an end. It’s been hours of waiting with no answers.
“My sister is here too.” I nod at Bristol. He looks abashed and checks his chart.
“Of course. I’m sorry. Ms. Brogan, Ms. Todd, You both were aware of your mother’s previous drinking issues?” We’ve reached a set of elevator banks. After the doctor pushes the button, he catches Bristol’s and my unsurprised faces. Although my mother’s drinking was over long before Bristol was born, the stories were legendary. “I’m not surprised. Even if her medical records don’t show it, it’s often hard to hide heavy drinking from children. There was undetected long-term damage to her heart, but her medical charts don’t show she was on any medication which makes her condition all the more dangerous.”
“What condition?” Bristol whispers fearfully. I grasp her hand so hard, I might be crushing her delicate bones, but she doesn’t begin to protest.
We all step into the elevator. When the doors close, Dr. Pilcher turns to us to ask more questions. “Was she ever a smoker?”
“Years ago,” I answer. “She gave it up when it started to impact her voice.”
He doesn’t respond but takes notes on his tablet. My patience at an end, I beg, “Can you please just tell us what’s wrong with our mother?”
