Page 51 of Masquerade Mistake

I recall the state my mom was in last time I saw her, along with how she was just now before the ambulance took her away. She did not get out of that house alone. I don’t know Duke well, but I know the kind of guys my mom attracts. He just lost his free lodging. We’ll never see him again, but at least he had enough decency to call me before he took off.

Chapter 21

Ethan and I head to his car and drive in silence toward the hospital. His hand rests near me, and while I long to take it and soak up some of his reassurance, I keep my own hand in my lap. Instead I stare out the window, drowning in a whirlpool of emotions, unable to decipher a single one. Mostly, I feel numb. Tired. A glance at the clock, and I know my time is severely limited. Finn will be out of school soon, and I have to be there to get him. It’s only one more way my mom has complicated my life. I should feel bad for my resentment, but I don’t—especially since I know my mom started this fire.

The parking lot is full when we get there, so Ethan drops me off at the entrance to the ER.

“Tell them you’re looking for Judy Myers,” I say before rushing off to find my mom’s room. After confirming I’m her daughter, the nurse buzzes me into the back where I’m led to a curtained area. Behind the curtain is my mother, her wispy hair spread out around her, an oxygen mask covering her nose and mouth as she lays with her eyes closed. I watch her for a moment, taking in her sleeping body. She looks so small in the bed, like a child with a weathered face and a mess of tubes and wires. I knew she wasn’t doing well, but seeing her now, I know it’s beyond that.

I move the curtain, and her eyes open. She tilts her head until she finds me, and I see the smile in her eyes even if I can’t see her face. She fumbles with the mask, drawing it down.

“Hey, girl,” she croaks. I move forward and replace the mask.

“You need that, Mom,” I insist, but she shakes her head, slipping it back off.

“I’m fine,” she says, though her voice sounds like it’s coming out a whiskey barrel. “What a day, huh?”

I take a deep breath in, studying her face to see where she’s at. “Do you know how the fire started?” I ask. She shrugs.

“Anyone’s guess,” she says. A bolt of fury electrifies me, and I clench my hands. But then I take another deep breath, letting it out slow as my fists unfurl. None of us know how it started, I only have my assumptions.

“Well, you’re very lucky,” I say. She nods. Her head rolls to the side, and I think that maybe she passed out again. But her eyes are open.

“He’s gone, isn’t he?” she says softly.

“Who, Duke? I didn’t see him there, if that’s what you’re asking.”

My mom nods but doesn’t say anything else about it. For a moment, I put myself in her shoes, understanding how it feels to lose someone without saying goodbye. But for me, I’ve been losing my mom for years.

“Judy Myers?”

Both of us turn toward the doctor. His name tag reads Dr. Miguel Carrillo, MD, and he states it for us as well. He comes in the room with a smile as if unfazed by my addict mother. I appreciate this game of pretend. It’s better than the judgmental paramedic.

Dr. Carrillo goes over my mom’s chart with both of us, confirming the results of my mom’s failed urine test as if he were confirming a pulled muscle. Cocaine, though I already know it was crack. His only comment is to recommend a treatment program, but he says it breezily enough that I know he doesn’t expect either of us to take him seriously.

“We’d like to keep you overnight, Ms. Myers,” he says to my mom.

“Just Judy,” she rasps out. “And for what?”

“You inhaled a lot of smoke,” he says, “and your system is weak. I’d feel better if we could monitor you for at least twenty-four hours.”

“I’d like to go home,” my mother says, trying to sit up in bed, but falling back after only a few seconds of struggle.

“You can’t, Mom,” I say. “Your house burnt down.” Technically, just the living room is damaged, but I know she can’t live there. Even more, I have to figure out what to do with her once she’s out of the hospital. I can’t have her move in with me, but I might not have a choice. I need the time to figure this out, and a hospital stay is my saving grace.

My mom doesn’t argue after that, and I help fill out the necessary paperwork before leaving.

“I have to be home for Finn,” I tell my mom. Even though it’s the truth, I feel fortunate for the excuse to get out of there.

Ethan is in the waiting room when I come out. He stands up like an expectant father, which is a silly thought to have in a moment like this.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say, nodding. “They’re going to keep her overnight.” I look at the clock on the wall and wince. “Finn is going to be home in five minutes, let’s get out of here.”

As Ethan drives, I text Beth—the neighbor I know the best—and explain the situation. When she texts back, she says she’ll bring Finn to her house until I return. With that taken care of, I can finally relax. I rest my head against the window, releasing a deep breath, feeling my body completely let down from an afternoon of stress.

“You’re probably wondering how you got mixed up with such a messed-up girl, huh?” I say, letting out a forced laugh.

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