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The morning of Mom’s surgery, I paced nervously across the blue patterned carpet of Ocean Beach Hospital’s waiting room. She had been behind those doors for two hours, and Dr. Riddles had said it could take up to four. I bit my lip as my stomach clenched with familiar anxiety. I knew she was in good hands, and Dr. Riddles had told me it was a simple procedure, but I was still nervous. All surgeries held risk, even the so-called simple ones.
Anything could happen in there, and my mind seemed stuck in worst-case scenario mode. I prayed nothing would happen to her. Things were slowly getting better between us, but we had miles yet to go. I couldn’t lose her before we had a chance to see if it was possible to make peace with each other.
Hoping to distract myself, I hopped on the elevator and took it down to the first floor. I’d been there since early that morning and hadn’t eaten anything. Mom wasn’t allowed to eat before surgery, so I’d abstained from food as well in solidarity. It didn’t seem right to shovel food in my mouth when she couldn’t. Now, hours later, my stomach was scolding me for neglecting it.
I got in line and chose a blueberry muffin and a large coffee, telling the cashier I’d take it to go. I wanted to get right back upstairs in case someone came looking for me with information, and was just about to jump back on the elevator when I saw Will Maxwell.
“Hello, Will. How are you?” I smiled in greeting.
“Hey there! I’m doing well. How is your mom? I heard she was here today. Word gets around in a small town, you know.” His face showed genuine concern.
“She’s actually having surgery right now. Snacking distracts me.” I shrugged and nodded at my food, trying to avoid eye contact, knowing my emotions were right on the surface. I didn’t want to break down in front of Will. That would be embarrassing.
“I’m sure she’s going to pull through just fine. Your mom is a strong woman, and she’s too stubborn to go anywhere until she’s good and ready. And I don’t think she’s ready yet.” He patted my shoulder kindly.
“Thanks, Will. I’m sure you’re right.” He seemed to have her pegged pretty well. The bell dinged as the elevator door slid open. He and I stepped inside, and I pushed the button for the surgical floor, but he seemed unsure of where he was headed. “Which floor?” I prompted him.
“Uh, the ninth I believe....” His answer sounded more like a question.
I pushed the number nine on the elevator panel. “Is everything okay with you? You’re not sick, are you?”
He seemed startled by my question, and I couldn’t help but notice that he seemed a bit off. I hoped it was nothing serious.
“No, I’m just fine. I’m here to check in on a friend.” His eyes met mine and for a moment, it seemed as if he had something else to say. I waited, but he didn’t continue.
The elevator lurched to a stop, the door slid open, and I smiled at him. “This is my floor. I’ll see you around.”
“Please give my best to your mother.” He smiled, but his eyes looked sad, and I wondered if it had something to do with the friend he’d come to check on.
“I’ll do that. Take care of yourself.” I searched his face for clues, but finding none, left him in the elevator and returned to the waiting area.
I scarfed down the muffin, guzzled the coffee, and checked my phone for e-mails. I returned one from Reena, assuring her that I was hard at work on my manuscript, even though she’d probably see right through my lie. The truth was I hadn’t written a word since the day I’d miscarried. Part of me wondered if I would ever be able to write again.
Something in my soul died that day, the piece of me that had still believed in the happy endings I wrote about. If I didn’t believe in love anymore, how could I write a book about it? I felt as if I’d been fundamentally changed. Writing books was my job, but I couldn’t bring myself to begin something new; I questioned whether I’d ever feel inspired to create again.
“Hope Grey, is there a Hope Grey here?” A round, short nurse scanned the waiting room as she called my name. I cringed when I heard her refer to me as Hope Grey. Having my name changed back to Hope West was at the top of my to-do list. I wanted no part of that woman anymore.
“I’m Hope. Do you have information about my mom?” I tried to keep the anxiety out of my voice, but failed miserably.
“She’s out of surgery, and we’ve moved her to post-op. She should be awake in a few minutes, and once she’s feeling up to it, you can go back and see her.” The nurse smiled kindly at me.
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Did everything go okay? Did he remove the tumor? Did the cancer spread?” I rattled off question after question until the nurse finally put up her hand, signaling me to stop talking.
“Ms. Grey, the doctor will answer all of your questions when he meets with you and your mother. I’m sorry to say I don’t have the answers. I’ll come and get you when your mother is awake and ready for visitors.” The nurse nodded at me and disappeared down the hallway.
Collapsing into the nearest chair, I cried tears of relief. I hadn’t known until that moment how worried I’d been that Mom might not pull through the surgery. I took some deep, cleansing breaths and tried to compose myself, not wanting to be a teary-eyed mess when I went back to see her. I remembered that I’d promised to let Helen know when Mom was out of surgery; she would be worried about her friend.
“Hope?” Helen picked up on the first ring.
“Yes, Helen. She’s out of surgery. They said it went well.” I smiled to myself.
“That’s great news. I’ve been so worried. Thank you for letting me know. Give Margaret a hug for me and tell her I’ll swing by to see her tomorrow,” she replied.
“I will,” I promised.
“And Hope? Thank you for being with her. I know things are rough between the two of you, but I promise you, you’re just what she needs.” She thanked me again and hung up.
A few minutes later, they led me into the post-op room where Mom appeared to be sleeping. Her lack of motion took me by surprise, since I thought they were waiting until she was awake to bring me back. As I got closer to her bed, though, I realized she was awake, just very still.
She looked so small and frail in the bed, and I was momentarily shocked at seeing her so vulnerable. It was jarring and unsettling. Mom was fierce, sharp-tongued, and strong; but right now she just looked old, tired, and very sick. I swallowed the lump that rose in my throat and pushed back the tears that filled my eyes. I had to be strong enough for both of us.
“Hey, Mom.” I reached out tentatively and touched her arm. We were both still uncomfortable with overt displays of affection, but I felt as if I needed some kind of connection with her, even a small one.
“Hope...” Her voice sounded raspy, but she reached up and squeezed my hand. I prayed the surprise I felt didn’t show on my face when her hand grasped mine. It was the only time I remember her reaching out to me physically. Her small, bony hand felt foreign as I gripped it in my own.
“The nurses say you did great in surgery. Dr. Riddles will be in soon to talk to us, but I’m sure he’s going to tell us good things, too.” I tried to sound encouraging, and hoped I was right.
“Hope, I... I’m sorry....” Mom had tears in her eyes and appeared to be apologizing for something, but I wasn’t sure what. She was having trouble getting the words out.
“Sorry for what, Mom?” I asked in confusion.
“For... everything....” Her eyes met mine, and for the first time in my life, I really saw my mother. Not the angry, rule-driven, nothing-I-did-was-ever-good-enough mother. I saw the woman she was underneath all of that. The one who’d raised a daughter alone; the woman who’d never had anyone to depend on besides herself. I saw someone facing her own mortality, and I saw the raw, honest fear behind her blue eyes. I also saw guilt and shame, perhaps stemming from all the unhappiness we’d caused each other.
“I know. I’m sorry too.” I had no other words to offer, but I decided she might have just needed to be heard.
She smiled at me weakly, then closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep. The nurse had warned me she would be groggy for the rest of the day, so I assumed her drifting off was normal. My heartbeat quickened thinking of the words she’d just said. Strangely, I felt lighter and less burdened than I had a few moments ago. My mom’s apology, in spite of the years of pain, freed me in a way I’d never imagined it could.
Honestly, I’d never even realized how much anger I harbored against her for my painful childhood until I felt it release a little bit. I knew it wasn’t like waving a magic wand. Truth be told, we still had many hurdles to jump, but it was the start of something new, and for that I was grateful. I hadn’t really had a mother all my life, but maybe, as the old saying went, it was better late than never.
About that time, Dr. Riddles came in and caught me wiping tears from my eyes. I’m sure he thought I was crying because I was worried about my mom.
“Hope, your mom is resting comfortably. That’s good. I plan to meet with her when she’s a little less drowsy, but you’ve been here since early this morning. You should go home and get some rest. Doctor’s orders.” Dr. Riddles smiled kindly at me and patted my hand, which still held my mom’s.
“Can you give me any information? Please? I will rest much better if I know your opinion about how the surgery went.” My eyes pleaded with him.
“Well, the prognosis is good. I’m fairly certain that I was able to remove the entirety of the tumor. As long as no rogue cancer cells managed to escape, I believe we can likely say she is cancer free. However, I still want Margaret to do the chemo rounds. This is a precaution to ensure that we’ve entirely eradicated the disease from her body, making sure the cells don’t travel anywhere else. She’ll remain here for at least four days to recover from the surgery, and then in a couple of weeks, when she’s stronger, we will begin the treatments.” The doctor smiled at me as he delivered the news I’d been praying to hear.
“Thank you, thank you, Dr. Riddles. Thank you for everything.” My heart practically danced in my chest at the news. “I think I can rest now. Please tell her I’ll be back tomorrow when you talk to her later.”
I patted Mom’s arm, grabbed my jacket and purse, and made my way to the parking lot to find the car. Climbing inside, I began the short drive home. My brain was racing a million miles an hour. It had been a long, exhausting day, but the outcome was better than I’d allowed myself to imagine. Dr. Riddles believed my mom was cancer free, and after the chemotherapy, he was optimistic that she would be for sure. More miraculous than that, though, was the fact that she had apologized to me. That was something I thought I’d never hear in my lifetime. They said that everything happened for a reason, and I was beginning to believe it was true.
