Page 73 of Severed Rivalry
Ayla points to her hair. “That shouldn’t have surprised you.”
Dr. Singh smiles a small, tired smile. “It didn’t. It just takes longer to process out of the system. We’ll let you know as soon as you can go back.”
Ayla takes a seat and whips out her phone. From what I can tell, Janie seems to shuffle back to her own. The plastic releases its air as she sits and then her sniffles begin. That her daughter doesn’t comfort her isn’t lost on me.
“Li, he’s good. In recovery and went back to sleep. No vision loss. No loss of the eye. One down. One to go if the wires work.” She pauses before continuing, “Yeah, I’ll tell him. And I’ll let you know when he’s awake.” Another pause. “I’m guessing overnight. It sounded like it was more complex than they were expecting.” She pauses one last time before adding, “Will do.”
She clicks off before lifting the phone to her face. “Hey,Honey, good news.” She’s wandered down the hallway and out of earshot when I hear a small voice behind me. “Oh God,” before a hiccupping sob.
I can’t take any more. I lock my laptop and set it aside before rounding the bank of chairs I’d claimed for the ones behind it. “Janie? Are you okay? Can I get you something?”
“Why do you look so familiar, dear? I know you must be one of Ayla’s friends, but I can’t place you.”
“I’m Sariah. Ci and I dated in college.”
She puzzles me out, trying to put two and two together, but seems to get minus one. She shrugs. “Nice to see you again. It’s been a while. I didn’t realize you and Ayla had caught up recently.”
Negative one isn’t far from the truth.
She’s either out of it or intentionally dense. Oh well. Still in all, her son has been through hell twice, face first. “Can I get you some water?”
She pats my hand. “No, I’m good. Thank you, though.”
I move back to my computer and log back in. I’d better keep my fingers and mind busy. If that were Renée in there, I’d be crazy. I’d want to burst knowing what she’d been through and the recovery yet to come.
“Seamus, he’s okay. The surgery went well. I wanted you to know.” No pauses. So no questions. Apparently, she got voicemail when she called her husband about her son.
Don’t go postal, Sariah. Don’t. Go. Postal.
In the past two and half weeks, Cian and I have talked at length. Via text anyway. Where we could, we talk-talked, but when he realized the recovery could be faster via text, we switched the bulk of our communication to messages.
He told me about what happened with his injuries. He spared me the violent details, but explained what happened, how Ayla played in, what his father expected her to do.
I can’t fathom any parent doing such a thing and I decided right then and there I didn’t want Seamus Murphy anywhere near Renée. Janie is skating thin ice with me by speaking his name. God forbid I see the man.
Though, at this juncture, I can’t believe Ayla would allow the man near her brother. She’ll have me as back-up if she needs it.
His son had major surgery from injuries sustained at what amounts to be his father’s hand, and not only is the man not here, he didn’t even answer his wife’s call. What a peach.
I learned early that parents are as equipped as they choose to be. My biological ones were not, nor did they choose to be. Randy and Rosie, on the other hand, found a way to get tools to be everything they could.
When I found out I was pregnant with Renée, I decided to be the Home Depot of parenting knowledge. I’m not perfect, but like hell will she ever be wanting because I’m unwilling to improve.
Therefore, I have no patience for the likes of Seamus Murphy and Janie is sliding her way down that teeter totter with every moment she leans his way.
I’m trying, but it’s not that complicated—choose selfishness last. That’s the whole deal. It’s hard as hell, but it’s doable. And her kids are adults, so it’s not like the balance is tipped.
Ayla returns, sliding her phone into her pocket and grabs her computer. Her eyes look over the screen toward her mom before refocusing on her editing.
I shoot a message her way.
Me: Your mom thinks I’m here to support you in your time of crisis.
Ayla: What the fuck?
Me: Roll with it. Not worth the energy to fight it.
Ayla: It sure is.
