Chapter 2
My first instinct was to call my daughter, Emily.
She was always the one I relied on and the first person I thought of when things went wrong.
The phone rang. But no one picked up.
My heart twisted. I redialed at once. Still, no answer.
Seeing Frank unconscious, the tears came.
The third time, the fourth time... I kept dialing.
Emily's name stayed on the screen, but all I heard was silence.
The living room clock ticked. Each second was a hammer to my chest.
The clock in the living room ticked away, each second feeling like a hammer pounding on my heart.
Twenty times.
Thirty times.
Until the screen showed I'd called ninety-nine times.
Despair drowned me.
Why wouldn't she answer?' I wondered desperately, my mind in chaos.
Pick up, even only once.
I was about to give up and call 911 when the last call went through.
It was my son-in-law, David, who finally picked up.
His voice was thick with sleep and annoyance.
"Mom?" David muttered.
I clung to that call like a lifeline, voice shaking, nearly crying. "David. Hurry. Frank's dying."
"What?" David snapped. "It's the middle of the night. Can't you wait until tomorrow? Why do you always have to bother us?"
My heart froze. "No, it's not that—Frank had a heart attack, he's collapsed on the bed. Where's Emily?" I was rambling, panicked.
"Emily drank too much and fell asleep," He paused, then cut me off, irritated. "Then call 911. What do you want us to do? We're not doctors."
"I, I'm scared." I stammered, my voice shaking.
"Scared? Seriously?" His voice dripped with disgust. "Mom, can you please have some boundaries? We have our own lives, we're not your private nanny. Do you think it is really okay to blow up our phones in the middle of the night simply for this?"
Boundaries. This word hit harder than anything else.
When I paid 260,000 dollars for the down payment, he never once mentioned boundaries.
When I was covering 2600 dollars of their mortgage every month, he never said a word about boundaries.
When Emily treated us like her personal bank, taking whatever she wanted, he never mentioned boundaries.
But now, when his father-in-law was dying, he suddenly wants to talk about boundaries.
In that moment, all the panic inside me faded away. Something cold spread through me.
My hands stopped shaking.
My voice turned steady, with a coldness so unfamiliar it barely felt like my own.
"I understand." I hung up before he could say anything else.
I didn't call again.
I calmly opened my contacts and dialed 911.
When they answered, I told them my address and explained Frank was unconscious, my voice clear and steady.
Outside, the sound of the ambulance siren grew louder.
In that moment, I felt colder than I ever had.
The hospital hallway was brightly lit. The harsh white lights made everything feel cold.
I sat alone on a bench outside the operating room.
The doctor said it was a massive heart attack. We got him there in time. Ten minutes later, it would've been too late.
I signed form after form. Paid bill after bill.
My hands were steady, my mind calm. No tears, no panic.
It felt like the person in that operating room had nothing to do with me.
At four in the morning, the lights in the operating room finally went off.
The doctor came out, pulling off his mask, exhausted.
"The surgery was successful. He's stable. But he'll need to stay in the Critical Care Unit for seven days." the doctor said.
I stood and bowed slightly. "Thank you, doctor," I said.
Once everything was settled, completely drained, I sat down in the corridor outside the Critical Care Unit.
Dawn is breaking.
Then, at 7 a.m., my phone exploded. It was Emily.
I watched the name flash on my screen. I simply silenced the call.
The phone kept ringing relentlessly, again and again.
About half an hour later, the sharp sound of high heels echoed closer and closer down the corridor.
Emily and David finally showed up at the end of the hallway.
She had perfect makeup and a stylish outfit, showing not a trace of worry. All I saw was the fatigue from a hangover and the annoyance of having her sleep interrupted.
She walked up to me, looked down, and started yelling.
"Mom. What's wrong with you? Dad's in the hospital and you didn't tell us?" Emily snapped.
Her voice was so sharp that other families in the hall turned to stare.
"David has an important meeting tomorrow, and you ruined all our plans for the night. Do you know how much money we're losing?" She demanded.
I slowly looked up at her angry, twisted face.
I had cherished her for over twenty years.
But now, I felt different.
She didn't care about her father or mother. She only cared that her own plans had been ruined.
I didn't even have the strength to argue with her.
Something in me had already shut down.
That's exactly what it felt like.
David stood nearby, hands in his pockets, wearing that same annoyed look.
He looked at me like I was a problem.
Emily kept talking. "Why couldn't you wait until morning to call? You had to call in the middle of the night, and..."
I looked at her and said two words. "Get out."
It wasn't loud, but Emily stopped immediately.
Emily stared at me like she didn't recognize me. "Mom, what did you say?"
I stood up, staring right back at her.
For the first time in decades, I looked at my daughter without warmth. "I said get out. Both of you."