Page 164 of Break Point
“How is she?” Robbie asks.
“She’s awake,” Dad says. “Doing better now that the IV’s rehydrating her.” He looks at me. “And asking for you.”
My brows knit.
I take a deep breath and clutch Henry’s arm like it holds all the answers.
“She wants to see you,” Dad says, looking away. I can see he can’t stand what’s happening, how he refuses to accept this as his reality. “I know you’re upset and have every right to feel that way. But she’ll understand if you’re not ready to talk to her. I know I’m not.” He says that last part softly, like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.
Dad presses his lips, and I can see how hard he’s working to reel in the turmoil. It breaks my heart. For him. For me. For her. For our family.
“She’s in 506,” he says. “The doctors want her to stay the night just to be safe.”
Robbie presses a hand to Dad’s shoulder. He’s never been great with words for situations like these, but he’s always present and supportive in his own way.
I want to see Mom. My mind tells me to run back to the hotel and pretend this never happened. Brush this off as another day in the office, but I can’t look the other way. Not anymore. My heart is telling me otherwise.
“Can you guys wait for me out here?” I say. “I’d like to talk to her in private.”
Henry nods and squeezes my arm.
“Take your time,” Dad says, plopping back on a sofa and running a shaky hand through his hair.
Robbie sits next to him.
I walk off and head for the corridor, still sweaty and flushed post-match, counting the numbers on the doors as I pass them. Anything to avoid mentally rehearsing shit I won’t say anyway.
501.
502.
503.
504.
505.
506.
I knock twice and let myself in.
Mom’s straightening up in the hospital bed, fluffing her hair.
It stops me.
She looks fine. Pale, but fine.
And for a second, I wonder if this was all an act that got out of hand.
I wouldn’t be too quick to dismiss it.
“Belén,” she says my name like she wasn’t expecting me to be the first to walk through that door. “Come.” She waves me over, visibly frantic, like she’s afraid I’ll bolt if she doesn’t act fast.
I just might.
My body carries me closer to her, but I say nothing. I’m always the first to speak out and fight for the last word. I’ll let her do the talking this time and see what she has to say for herself.
“I didn’t want you to see me like this.” She looks flustered.
