I will not fall in love with him.
I will not fall in love with him.
I say those words repeatedly as I look at myself in the mirror. The red marks on my neck, a result of his scruff rubbing against my heated flesh as he moved inside of me last night, are a reminder of what I’ve done.
Never in my life have I had unprotected sex until last night. I don’t know what came over me, but it can’t happen again. But how do you tell the person that you’ve made a mistake? How do you look someone in the eye and say that you now want him to wear a condom without hurting his feelings, or ego, for that matter? I was horny and stupid, and now have to find a way to tell Cooper that we can’t continue to have unprotected sex. He just has to understand that this is a personal decision and not because I don’t trust him.
A loud bang shakes me from my reverie. I pause for a second before that voice in the back of my head tells me that something is wrong. Opening the door, I stall, listening for any sort of sound that may alert me as to what that noise was. Down the hall, I peek into my mother’s room only to find she’s not there. A few more steps and I am at the top of the stairs looking down at my mother, in a heap.
“Mom,” I scream as I rush down. “Mom, can you hear me?”
She doesn’t answer, and panic starts to set in. I search for her pulse. It’s faint but there, and as I reach for my cell phone, I realize it’s in the bathroom because I was contemplating sending Cooper a picture before I took a good look at myself in the mirror.
“Shit,” I mutter as I scramble to the kitchen to call for help. After dialing, I tell the operator that I believe my mother fell down the stairs, and she is unconscious but has a faint pulse. They ask me to stay on the line, but our phone is older and is still attached to the wall.
This is karma coming back to bite me in the ass. If I had just listened to my mother about dating Cooper, I wouldn’t have been in the bathroom trying to take a fucking selfie of my tits for him, and she wouldn’t have fallen.
“Help is on the way,” I tell my mom. I want to straighten her out and fix her clothing, but I don’t know if she’s broken anything, and I don’t want to make things worse for her.
“Ainsley…” Her voice is groggy, and as she tries to reach for me, I clasp my hand around hers.
“It’s okay, Mom. Help is on the way.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. I was in the bathroom.” Doing shit I shouldn’t be.
The sound of sirens is a welcome relief, and as much as I hate letting go of her hand, I have to in order to let the medics in.
They come in, one asking me a barrage of questions while the other tends to my mother. These are the same questions the operator asked me, but I suppose they need to ask again. I have no doubt I’ll be asked once more when we get to the emergency room.
“What’s your name, ma’am?” I hear the medic ask my mother. Her response is mumbled so I blurt out, “Janice Burke.”
“Okay, Janice, can you tell me what happened?” the medic asks. I feel helpless as I look on, watching them work on my mother.
“I found her like that,” I say, pointing to her. “I heard a loud bang, and when I came out of the bathroom, she was at the bottom of the stairs. I felt for a pulse but didn’t want to move her.”
“Does this hurt?” The medic presses and moves her arms and legs, checking to see if anything is broken.
My mom only moans, and the tears I’ve been holding back fall freely. They work to load her onto the stretcher and ask me to meet them at the hospital. It takes me a moment to realize that they’re gone before my brain kicks my ass into gear and I’m grabbing her list of medications and my purse and running out the door.
I’m only seconds behind the ambulance and am there when they put her into a room. The hard orange chair is an unwelcome friend, and my body groans. I’ve spent far too many hours in a chair identical to this one and foresee many more hours, if not days, that I’ll be here. I sit down and wait for them to finish transferring her to the hospital bed, along with hooking up the machines. I sigh as the sounds from the monitors fill the room, letting me know her heart is beating and she’s breathing.
“Ms. Burke.”
“Hi, Dr. Sanchez.”
“Hello, Janice. Can you tell me what happened?” He writes in her chart, even though she’s not answering him. She’s been in and out of consciousness since I found her.
He turns to me. “Do you know what happened?”
I shake my head. “I came out of the bathroom and found her at the bottom of the stairs. I had heard the crash and went looking for her. She asked me what had happened so I’m guessing she doesn’t remember anything.”
“We’re going to take her down for a CAT scan and get some X-rays to make sure nothing is broken.”
Dr. Sanchez nods toward the orderlies who unhook the machines from their stands and attach them to her bed.
“We’ll rush the results so we know what we’re dealing with,” he says, pulling up another one of the orange chairs. “Tell me how things have been at home.”