As the world outside was buzzing with news crews and list making, Lana sat alone in Sammy’s hospital room, looking at her daughter. Like haunting calls into a canyon of regret, thoughts bounced farther and farther into the distance, carrying Lana’s heart along as they drifted back in time.
“I remember when you were born,” the actress whispered to her daughter. And after a long moment of silence, she said, “That seems like a lifetime ago … and also like yesterday.”
The monitors silently tracked Sammy’s vitals as she lay bandaged and unmoving but for the steady rise and fall, rise and fall of her chest.
“I wasn’t always a bad mom,” Lana whispered. “You may not remember, but I really, really tried.” She slipped her hand over Sammy’s. “Maybe I should have waited a few more years to pursue my dream. No, I know I should have waited. But thirty freaked me out. I went from being a teenager, to being a mother, to waitressing at Big Daddy’s, to being thirty. It felt like my life was over and I’d never really had a chance to do anything.
“Oh, there was my short-lived move to Hollywood after high school. I was so naïve, auditioning for parts during the day, waitressing at a diner on Sunset at night. My eyes were so full of stars!” She thought a moment as if grappling with how much to share, then said, “That’s where I met your father—has he told you that? He and the band would come into the diner after doing a showcase. He was so charming and Marko was so funny. Marko had amazing hair back then, too. Full and shaggy … it’s still strange to see him bald.
“Anyway, it’s not like they didn’t warn me, right? They were the Troublemakers! But I fell so hard for your dad. And then”—she heaved a sigh—“well, things fell apart, and I was left with you and a bunch of shattered dreams.
“That didn’t mean I didn’t love you. But I was back in Santa Martina, and it didn’t take long for me to feel old and trapped and like such an embarrassing failure. Plus, I was working at a truck stop! The tips were good, but you have no idea how demeaning it was to work there! Your grandmother wanted me to take night classes so I could get on to something better, but I couldn’t seem to find the time. Besides, accounting, or nursing, or secretarial skills … it was not where my heart was. And I was tired a lot!”
Lana paused for a moment, and then the words seemed to want to gush out. Like they’d been waiting for years to be set free. “You were not an easy child, Samantha. I know it wasn’t your fault. You’re like your father—curious and energetic … and a magnet for trouble! Nowhere was safe with you in it. Not the grocery store, not the mall, not the playground … You always managed to knock something over, or get a leg caught, or tackle someone. Why did you need to chase other kids? Why did you need to tackle them? Your grandmother said you were just trying to make friends, but what kind of way is that to make friends? I needed a helmet and a leash for you!” She shook her head. “You were just exhausting.”
Lana was quiet for a long time. It was as if she’d arrived at a fork on a distant road and was not quite sure which way to go, and when she did at last begin again, her voice was just a whisper. “Do you remember that little one-bedroom place we rented on Hill Street after my dad left us and Mom lost the house? The three of us were crammed into what was supposedly a duplex, but it was really just half of a tiny house where the water heater was in the kitchen and the refrigerator partly blocked the doorway into the bedroom. The neighbor in the other half would be up all night playing loud music, and sometimes it’d be Darren Cole and the Troublemakers, which was really, really hard for me to take. I would be next to you in bed, trying to be quiet while I sobbed, but you would sometimes wake up anyway and ask me what was wrong and wipe my tears away with your little hands and then kiss me and tell me you loved me.” She took a deep, choppy breath, then choked out, “I’m sorry about those nights. I’m sorry for making you worry. I’m sorry I let you see how depressed I was.”
After another long silence, Lana began again. “Your grandmother was the one who used to sleep on the couch. Do you remember that? It’s pretty funny, now that I think about it. And sometimes the two of you would sleep on that couch together. It wasn’t big, but I’d come home from my shift, and there you’d be, burrowed into each other with a book dropped to the side. And when I’d try to get you to move into the bed, you’d cling to her for dear life and tell me, ‘No!’ ”
Lana studied her daughter a moment, then said, “I think I was probably a little jealous, even back then. You and she were always such buddies. With me she was a disciplinarian. With you she was easy. And affectionate. I don’t remember my mom hugging me very much when I was a kid, but you came along and suddenly she was all arms.
“And then she got into the Highrise and you were in school and getting so independent, and I … I was going nowhere.” Lana stroked her daughter’s hand. And after several minutes she said, “It was your grandmother’s idea, you know. To have you stay with her in the Highrise? She was the first one to suggest it, and she did it in front of you! So of course you thought it was a big adventure.” She let out a sigh. “And I thought it was only going to last a month or two. Or through the end of sixth grade at the most! I definitely thought I’d be settled and you’d be with me in Los Angeles by the time junior high started. That was my deadline. The beginning of seventh grade. You’d be starting a new school anyway, right? It made complete sense!
“But … it didn’t work out that way.” She frowned. “I know I should have called more. I know I should have come to visit more. I know I shouldn’t have gotten so wrapped up in myself and what I was doing. But I did not abandon you to become the Gas-Away lady! I cannot believe you ever thought that, let alone said it! It was embarrassing to be the Gas-Away lady! I still cringe about it! But sometimes you have to swallow your pride to get your foot in the door … especially if you have a child you’re supposed to be taking care of!”
Lana sat staring at her daughter, absorbing her in a way she hadn’t since Samantha had been a toddler sleeping at her side.
Who was this girl?
This … young lady.
How had this … any of this … happened?
“Sometimes I have trouble wrapping my mind around the fact that you’re my daughter,” she whispered. “How did you become so brave? So resourceful? When I think about the things that you’ve gotten yourself into …” The actress shuddered. “I’ve heard, you know. In bits and pieces over time, I’ve heard. And I can see acting those scenes, but living them? Oooo. You know how I get around rodents and blood—imagine how I’d be around corpses! Or trapped in a basement with poisonous spiders!” She fluttered a hand as if fanning away a panic attack. “I would have died. Or needed serious counseling! Or something! But you just went on about your life like nothing had happened. You never even mentioned it to me!”
After another long silence, Lana took a deep breath and whispered, “Please wake up, Sunshine. Please come back to me!” And then, like a main line breaking open, she threw herself forward and burst into tears.
Only there was a problem.
She couldn’t really reach her daughter because the bed’s guardrail was in the way.
So she frantically pulled the barricade. Pushed the barricade. Tried to find the release latch for the barricade. But (being both overwrought and not mechanically inclined) she got nowhere.
Which made her cry even harder.
And the harder she cried, the more she wanted to wrap her daughter in her arms and just hold her.
Like she had when Samantha was a little girl.
Back when she could still protect her.
And now, once again, the reality of the situation seemed too much to bear.
What if her daughter never woke up?
What if she could never tell her she was sorry?
After the flood of tears subsided and only sprinkles remained, Lana wiped her cheeks, then reached over the railing to try again to hug her daughter.
But it was awkward.
Impossible, really.
So she reached over and kissed Sammy on the forehead.
But … that was very unsatisfying.
And it seemed like the wrong gesture completely!
Like something you would do to an old, tired relative.
Or a corpse in a casket!
If you had the guts to kiss a corpse in a casket, that is.
Which she did not!
Unless, maybe, it was Samantha.
No!
The image gripped her heart, and she fanned away another panic attack as she whimpered, “You cannot die. Samantha, please wake up. Please!”
But her daughter didn’t wake up.
And after the next flood of tears came and went, Lana stood there completely drained and overcome with fatigue.
In all her double shifts at Big Daddy’s, in all her long days on Lords, she had never, ever felt this tired.
Suddenly all she wanted was to curl up and close her eyes and go back to the time when it was just her and her daughter in the little bed on Hill Street.
Back to when she could wrap her sleeping child in her arms and feel her heartbeat steady and strong and fearless beside her.
Back to when life was mostly heartache and struggle.
But had never hurt like this.