Page 107 of Notes About Vodka

Like seriously, what the fuck.

Walking up to Val, I tell him, "I didn't have cash on me, Val. Honestly, I didn't expect you to pay. I was going to leave the tip on my card. But then you handled the bill, kinda disappeared on us, and then… Fuck Val.”

My voice falters, the weight of the night crashing down again, “and I... I have to leave. My mom... She… She... Fuck it, it doesn’t matter anyways." I shove a crumpled twenty-dollar bill into his hand, my voice trembling. "I'm sorry for leaving like that," I manage to say, my eyes pleading for understanding as tears cascade down my cheeks.

I can feel Skipper come up behind me, his hand resting on my lower back.

Val’s response is sharp, cutting through to my heart. "You could have said something. You could have told me. And nowyou come back here, shoving money in my face like some kind of insult?"

"I'm sorry," I choke out, my voice barely audible. "I panicked. I didn't know what else to do."

He looks at me, hurt and frustration etched in his expression. "Laura, what's going on? Why won't you talk to me?"

"I can't right now," I murmur, unable to meet his gaze. "I need time. I'll... I'll explain later.”

I walk back toward the taxi, hearing Skipper tell Val, “Dude, that was beyond fucked up. Laura is supposed to be your girl. But you want to get angry when the hospital just called to tell her that her mother tried to kill herself. I thought you were better than that, man, we have to go. I’ll make sure Laura is safe."

Skipper closes the door to the taxi and asks the driver to take us back to the apartment. I glance back through the window, Val is standing there, the money clutched in his hand.

When we get to the apartment, Skip and I change, then head to New Haven.

The ride is a blur of anxiety and dread. I can't lose my mom, not like this. Skipper, always intuitive, doesn’t question what I just did as he drives up the highway.

When we finally arrive, the nurse is waiting at the entrance, his expression grim. We rush inside, my heart pounding in my chest as we navigate the sterile halls to find my mom's room. She's sedated, but stable, the doctors assure us. The nurse introduces me to a doctor who fills me in on the details, his voice steady despite the turmoil we're all feeling.

Hours pass in a blur of waiting rooms, hushed conversationswith doctors, and the distant hum of medical equipment. The ordeal is exhausting, emotionally draining. I get updates on what led to this, the tumultuous state my mom has been in.

It's then I realize, with a pang of resolve, that I can't keep subjecting myself to this cycle of pain.

My resolve is solidified when I am finally allowed to go see her.

Sitting on her hospital bed, my mom’s green eyes are rimmed red and bloodshot. Her hair is yellow and matted with sweat. She’s twisting her gown in her hands as she mumbles, “But he said it would be okay, he promised. Laura, he promised, he promised, he promised.”

“Who promised, Mama, who is he? Is it Nick?” I ask her.

When I say Nick’s name, she looks at me with horror before she replies, “No. Not Nick. My midnight lover. Alice.”

“Huh,” I look at my mom confused. “Mama, who is Alice?”

“You know, honey. Alice Cooper. From that rock band,” she explains.

I’m nodding my head as she continues, “He whispers to me at night, Laura. We talk about life and he tells me he loves me.”

Oh good Lord. What the hell, Mama….

“Mama, how does Alice Cooper talk to you at night? Please tell me he doesn’t come to your room.”

“Stop being silly, Laura. Of course not. He can’t come all the way here from there.”

“Okay, Mama, but where is there?”

“He hasn’t told me yet. But he promises…” her eye glaze over slightly as she slips into a daydream.

“Mama… focus with me please, mama. What is Alice telling you, promising you?” I beg my mom, grabbing her cold, bony hands with mine. I rub my warmer thumbs over the back over hers, pulling her back to consciousness.

Her eyes brighten as she tugs her hands away, clappingthem together and giggling before she says, “Laura. We are going to have the best life together. He even said I can bring you?”

“Mama! You are scaring me, what are you talking about? Where are we going?” I plead, hoping she will just give me a straight, simple answer. I’m not ready for what she says.

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