-“What Ifs” by Kane Brown
- -
“What can I do?” I ask Quinn for the tenth time since we walked into the long-term facility that her mama’s been staying at for the past few years.
It’s a nice place, to be sure, and for anyone else it would probably scream welcoming and comforting, letting family and friends know that their loved ones are being cared for in an environment they can visually trust.
To me, it feels like hell.
Not because of anything they’re doing, but because I can see the nervous fear on Quinn’s face as her eyes swing around the room. She’s been doing this since the nurse Maverick arranged to meet with us left to go make sure her mama’s been moved to a private room where visitors can have a moment with the people they care about without being stuck in a hospital room.
I’ve got to hand it to the place—from a doctor’s standpoint, it’s a top-notch facility. It’s evident they encourage visitors, seeing that they go to great lengths to ensure a level of comfort in those visits that most long-term care places just aren’t financially able to. It tells me that Maverick, despite everything this woman did to her children, didn’t spare a single expense when it came to her care.
I’m not sure I would do the same thing if my own mama needed something like this. I haven’t spoken to my parents in months, and that will never change. To me, they died nine years ago.
“Do you think I’ll recognize her?” she asks, not looking away from the family of four that looks to be sharing a quiet, happy moment on the other side of the waiting room. A young mother with her three small children, in fact. What are the odds?
“I’m not sure, darlin’,” I answer honestly, reaching over to take her hand in mine. “There’s nothin’ wrong with not recognizin’ her, Quinn, so stop worryin’ yourself over it. You were too young when she left to have a clear picture of her like your brothers do, and you can’t fault yourself for not havin’ pictures to remember her by.”
She looks up, the fear in her eyes making them look murky. “Shouldn’t a daughter be able to feel a connection to the woman who birthed her? What if I don’t have that?”
I squeeze her hand. “Then you don’t, baby. That’s not on you. Would you be able to pick your brothers out in a crowd?”
“I could find them with my eyes closed,” she confirms breathily.
“Then, Grease, your heart knows what’s important.”
She nods, looks back at the young family in the corner, and nods again to herself. I leave her to her thoughts and pray that what happens this afternoon doesn’t hurt her more than heal.
A week ago, she showed up at the office just after lunch. I was in an examination room with a patient, but Gladys pulled me aside when I stepped out for the woman to get undressed and told me that Quinn was waiting in my office. I could tell by looking at Gladys that whatever brought Quinn here was unusual. Gladys looked troubled and concerned.
I don’t think I’ve ever finished a yearly exam quicker. Even my nurse, Rebecca, looked at me like I was insane.
I found Quinn smiling through her tears in my office, and after I frantically tried to get out of her what was going on, she said she went to see Maverick and that he was on board with her seeing their mama and would set things up.
By the next day, I’d rescheduled my patients and made all the travel arrangements. Quinn hadn’t wanted to wait, but I purposely set up a weeklong gap between her talk with Maverick and us getting to California so that she’d have time to really make sure this was what she wanted. I didn’t do it to talk her out of it, but to give her a safety net if she wanted it.
Clearly she didn’t, because we’re sitting in the middle of a Los Angeles facility for the mentally ill and those medically incapable of caring for themselves.
“Ms. Davis?” the nurse calls, pulling me from my thoughts, and I stand quickly as Quinn scrambles nervously to her feet. She reaches behind her, blindly searching for my hand, and I instantly grab hold and tighten my grip. “We’ve got your mother ready in the green room. It’s one of the favorites amongst our patients. Nice and soothing, with a tropical theme.”
Quinn hums in acknowledgment but doesn’t speak. I can feel a slight tremble in her hand, and I know I need to do something to ease her mind before she walks into the unknown.
“I don’t know how much your brother told you about your mother’s health. I’ve been here for about two years and I wish I could say things were better, but she’s gotten a lot weaker lately. She won’t be able to talk to you, but I assure you that she can hear what you’re saying. She’s quite the fighter, that one,” the nurse recites in a monotone, as though she’s rehearsed this speech a thousand times before.
I don’t roll my eyes, but inside I’m ashamed that this woman can’t at least act like she isn’t reading a manual on how to deal with patients’ families. I know just how bad off Quinn’s mother is, because I had Maverick get her medical history sent to me. Her liver and kidneys are failing. Her heart is weak. Her lungs keep filling with fluid. She’s on dialysis and taking heavy narcotics for the constant pain she feels, and her last checkup showed signs of dementia.
She is, in simple terms, a mess.
“Can we have a moment please?” I ask the nurse when she brings us to a stop in front of the green door.
“Of course,” she says with a fake-as-hell smile, not looking me in the eye. “When you’re ready, just head in. If you need anything, let us know. I do need to make you aware that sometimes Mrs. Davis gets . . . agitated. Don’t be alarmed if that happens. Just press the red button directly next to the bathroom door and we’ll be right there.”
“We’ve got it covered,” I tell her impatiently.
I wait for her to walk to the nurses’ station five doors down, giving us her back while she talks to some of the other nurses seated behind the desk. Then I turn to Quinn and wish I could erase this whole visit from her mind.
“I want you to listen to me, Grease.” I search her eyes and hold both her hands in my own. “Whatever happens in there, I want you to remember that the family that matters to you is waitin’ for you back in Pine Oak. Your brothers and Leigh, they care about you so much there isn’t anything they wouldn’t do for you. Their unconditional love, understandin’, and support will always be there for you. And baby, you’ve got me. There’s nothin’ in the world I wouldn’t do for you. You didn’t need that woman in there to mold you into the bright, compassionate, and lovin’ woman that you are today, and when you walk out that door later, you damn sure aren’t gonna need her then. Don’t forget that. You’re loved, baby, more than you could ever imagine.”
Her shoulders relax and she closes her eyes and drops her forehead to my chest, mumbling something I can’t quite hear.
“What’s that, Grease?”
She does it again and I smile.
“You’re gonna have to speak to me and not my chest, darlin’.”
When she looks up, the anxiety that hasn’t left her since we landed four hours ago is gone and she finally looks like my Quinn again. I lift my hand and push her loose hair behind her ear, resting my hand against her neck, and I smile down at her. Her eyes drop to my mouth and I get the first grin beaming from her since last night.
Her luminous green eyes jump back to mine. “I love you.”
My fucking God.
It’s the first time she’s initiated it, said it out loud, clear as day. She’s mouthed it. She’s hinted at it. But this is the first time I’ve gotten from her those words I’ve ached so long to hear.
“I love you more than ever. I owe you for makin’ me realize what really matters.”
“God, Quinn.” I exhale. “I love you too, darlin’. You ready?”
“Yeah, Tate . . . I think I am.”
I press a kiss against her lips and wait for her to open the door. She takes a fortifying breath, turns the knob, and walks inside.
I’m not sure what I expected to see when I saw her mama for the first time. Medically, I knew she wouldn’t look good, but seeing a woman that looks so much like Quinn on her deathbed knocks me for a loop so hard I struggle to breathe.
“Jesus Jones,” Quinn whispers, her eyes not leaving the woman who’s staring at the door.
I can see the alarm in the older woman’s eyes—the bright green eyes that mirror those of the woman I love. Her raven-black hair that appears to be as thick and lustrous as Quinn’s, only streaked with tiny hints of gray.
“She looks just like me.” Quinn steps forward and I let the door shut behind us, not willing to stay far from her. “In all the years I imagined what she would look like, it was never like me.”
Her mama starts to shake her head, the heart monitor showing an increase in speed. I don’t want to rush Quinn, but if her mama continues to get agitated, I don’t think Quinn is going to be allowed to come back anytime soon.
“You know who I am,” Quinn tells her mama in a clear, halting voice. “I used to dream about you, you know. I would conjure up these beautiful stories where you would speed back into town and grab your children in a warm hug and tell us how much you missed us, but you had somethin’ so important to do and you got back as soon as you could. Spent years and years dreamin’ that, thinkin’ I needed you to be complete.” She stops talking and points over her shoulder. Her mama’s eyes follow her movement. I don’t relax the expression of harsh judgment on my face and she flinches. “That man filled me right up and completed every single jagged piece your abandonment created inside me. One day I’m gonna beg him to marry me, then I’m gonna give him babies, and then, Mama, I’m gonna love him and those babies until the day I die and there won’t be a soul on earth that could tear me away from them. I forgive you for being selfish enough to love yourself more than your family, and I even thank you for runnin’ off, since your actions gave Clay and me our brother. Even with a mama that only loved herself, my brothers and me know how to love others, and we definitely can’t thank you for that.”
Done with her speech, Quinn turns and looks up at me with shining eyes. I look away to see her mama wide-eyed and starting to get even more upset. I glance at the screen showing her vital signs before looking back down at Quinn.
“You got everything you need to say out?” I mutter to her.
“I did.” She nods and takes a breath. “It’s over.”
“Make sure you got nothin’ left, baby.”
She looks back at her mama, seein’ the distress in the woman’s face. “I hope you find the peace you need, even if it isn’t until after you’ve left this earth. Good-bye, Mama.”
I watch the monitors while Quinn talks, and the second she finishes speaking, I reach up and press the red button the nurse told us to hit when we were done. We’re out of the room and down the hall before the nursing staff has even left their station to settle Mrs. Davis.
“You okay?” I ask Quinn, pulling her under my arm and tight to my side.
She glances up, nods, and finally smiles back at me. “I’m perfect.”