More Than Anything (4 page)

I call Jeremy’s cell, and when he answers, his cheerful voice is a ray of sunlight in an otherwise gray day.

“Jeremy? It’s Sage.”

“Girl, I knew that from caller ID. You’re programmed. I’ve got more on you than the NSA.”

“So what’s going on with you?”

“Oh, nothing, I just landed the lead in a Broadway show, that’s all,” he says, as if it happens every day.

“You’re kidding! Tell me everything!”

“The promoters saw the show, and they wanted a new take on
Phantom
, so we go into rehearsals in two weeks and go live in four or five. And sweetie, they’re paying like I’m Tom Cruise and Tom Hanks’ love child.”

“There’s a visual.”

“So Papa’s fat, baby. It’s raining cash in the Jeremy household. But enough about me. When are you flying back?”

I exhale noisily. “It’s going to be a while.” I explain my dilemma and my call with Saul. When I’m done, it’s Jeremy’s turn to sigh.

“Tell me you didn’t turn Saul Princeton down. Just tell me that didn’t happen.”

“I tried.”

“If I could reach through the phone and bitch slap some sense into you, I would. What are you thinking? You don’t turn someone like Saul down. He can ruin you.”

“In the end I agreed.”

“Listen to you. You land the hottest producer in the country, and you sound like somebody pissed in your cornflakes. What’s wrong with you? Do you not realize you won the lottery?”

“It doesn’t really feel that way.” I tell him about my mom. His tone completely reverses, and now when he speaks, he’s choosing his words carefully.

“Oh, Sage. I’m sorry. That’s got to be agony. Let me know if there’s anything I can do. I mean it. Anything at all.”

“Have you seen Derek?”

He snorts, and his tone returns to the Jeremy I’m used to. “Oh, sure, he’s taking a bubble bath with me right now. What do you think? Why would I see Derek?”

“I need you to ask around and see if you can find him. Tell him I’m not coming back for a while, and I really need to talk to him about it.”

“Babe, New York’s a big city.”

“I know. Are you going to see Sabrina any time soon?”

“Funny you should ask. I have a thing with her in a couple of hours.”

“Ask her about Derek. She’ll know how to reach him.”

“You ask her. It’s not like you don’t have her number.”

“Jeremy, help me out here, would you? I’m on my way to the hospital. Just do this for me? Ask Derek to call me when you see Sabrina?”

“You owe me. That’s all I’m going to say. I expect star billing and a ballad on the record. Nothing less will do.”

“I’ll mention it to Sebastian.”

“Listen to you, Miss I’m-On-A-First-Name-Basis-With-Everyone. You’ve already gone Hollywood on me. Don’t forget the lessons Liza taught you. Humility.”

“I didn’t get that from
Cabaret
.”

“It’s subtext.” I hear something in the background. “Oh, damn. Listen, doll face, I’ve got to go. I’ll buzz you when I see Sabrina, ’kay?”

“Thanks for doing this, Jeremy. And congratulations on the show. That’s awesome.”

“Yeah, yeah. No need for the lotion job. You’ve got me doing your dirty work already. I’m your puppet. Now I have to run. Ciao, baby.”

My dad and Melody are standing by the car waiting when I return to the hotel. We agree to a late lunch after the hospital and pile into the car, which sounds like an angry hamster when my father turns the key.

The same nurse is at the desk as yesterday, and she’s even less friendly, if that’s possible. She points to the hall that leads to my mother’s room, mutters, “No change,” in response to my dad’s question about how she’s doing, and then returns to her snack, which is enough to feed a family of six for a week.

My mother’s awake when we enter the room. Melody’s bowed out this time and taken refuge in the cafeteria. I don’t blame her. There’s nothing fun about watching someone terminal struggle for breath, and if I were in her shoes, I’d have passed on the hospital entirely.

I move to the bed, and my mom looks at me with bleary eyes. “You again. Ralph told me you won some contest.”

Her speech is slurred, and I wonder how much is from the drugs and how much is from the alcohol damage.

“Yeah. I’m making a record.”

“That’s nice,” she says, clearly having no idea what I’ve accomplished. Leave it to Ralph to make even my moment of victory into a nonevent. But the funny thing is, it doesn’t matter. This isn’t about me. This is about my mom, and at least she’s coherent today.

Her gaze moves to my father, and she frowns. “You too? What is it, my birthday?”

He closes the distance to the bed. “We heard about you being in the hospital and figured since we were in the neighborhood…”

“I don’t want to see you. You’re no good. Jailbird. Bum.” The amount of hate one small woman can manage, even hooked up to a battery of machines and pumped full of dope, is astounding. I’m taken aback by the ferocity of the attack, even though I’ve been on the receiving end plenty of times.

My father smiles and nods. “All true. But how about you? Are you going to behave yourself once you’re out of here? Maybe get some help?”

“You’re a fine one to talk. I don’t want anything to do with you. How dare you judge me.”

“I’m not judging you. I just don’t want you to die. You don’t have to, Sarah.” It’s the first time I’ve heard him use her name, and the way he says it makes it sound important.

“I’m going to sleep now. Have a nice life, you bastard.”

He looks over at me and smiles that same sad smile, and shrugs. “I’ll leave you with your daughter. You can catch up. It’s been a while.”

Her eyes are clamped shut, as if she can erase the world if she doesn’t acknowledge it. He rises and goes to the door. “Good luck, Sarah. I hope you pull through,” he says, and then he’s gone.

Leaving me alone with the woman who let Ralph use me for a punching bag. Who didn’t care whether I lived or died. Who still doesn’t.

I try to rise above the negative thoughts, but it’s hard. Eventually she opens one eye and peers at me with annoyance.

“Still here?”

“I flew all the way from New York to see you, Mom.”

“New York! Well, you should have stayed there. This is nothing.”

“No, it isn’t. The doctors say you almost died…and that if you drink again, it’ll be like putting a gun to your head.”

“They always say that. They love to exaggerate.”

“Mom, they’re not kidding. You have to stop. Do something else. Take pills. Smoke. Please. I’m begging you. Don’t drink anymore,” I say, and my voice cracks. I hate how weak and clingy I sound.

“You deal with your own life. Don’t you dare tell me what I can and can’t do. Nobody tells me what I can do. Nobody, do you understand?” Flecks of spittle arc from her mouth as she sprays venom at me, and I’m reminded of my own attitude. I’m horrified when I see myself in her, especially the rebellion even when being asked to do something for my own good. It’s like a blinding light shined on me, realization striking even before she finishes.

Of course I’m like her. She raised me. I learned everything I know, everything that I am, from watching her while growing up. For better…and for worse.

Maybe just understanding that is enough. I hope so. The woman in the bed seems to have no regard for herself or those around her, not even those who love her. Her only love is a bottle, and that love is killing her, robbing her of her life.

I try to keep my voice even. “I am telling you what to do, Mom. I’m asking you not to kill yourself.”

She turns her head away and closes her eyes. “This discussion is over. Go away.”

I sit, numb, trying to understand what could possibly motivate her to be so terrible a human being, and realize that I’ll never know what’s going on in her head. I’d never allow my child to be mistreated, never choose addiction over my baby, and certainly never let a shitgrub like Ralph near her. But she doesn’t care. I can see it. All she wants is to be discharged, so she can take another run at the bottle that’s brought so much misery into all our lives.

A few minutes later I stand, my legs shaky, a sense of disbelief running through me at how dismissive and uncaring she is. I see her for what she’s become, but I try to remember her when things were better, before she turned into…this.

I can’t.

I’m almost to the door when Ralph turns the corner and stops, face to face with me. The sneer is instant, and his eyes narrow to slits.

“Well, look who we have here. Miss Bitch. Too good for the rest of us. Got any smart-ass comments for me now that your loser dad isn’t around to protect you?”

“Ralph, I’m not in your life anymore. Leave it at that.”

“And what if I don’t feel like it? You going to make me? You had all kinds of backtalk for me yesterday, didn’t you? What’s wrong? Not so brave now, are you?”

“Ralph, so help me, if you lay a finger on me, I’ll scream so loud it’ll bring every nurse and cop for a mile around. You’re not going to get away with your usual shit, do you understand?” My voice sounds ten times stronger than I feel, and I’m surprised.

So’s Ralph, at least for a second, and then he moves for me. He’s surprisingly fast for his size. I step back just as he’s winding up to slap me, and then Melody’s voice from behind him stops him right as he begins to swing.

“Hit her and it’s not just your word against hers. I’m a witness,” Melody says, her tone flat.

Ralph spins, furious. “Get out of here, bitch.”

“Sure thing, tough guy. With my friend. You going to step aside, or should I yell for help?”

I can see Ralph calculating: what are the odds he can shut Melody up and get away with hitting me? It’s not a good bet, though, and I know the moment’s passed when his shoulders relax. He steps back, and I rush past him, trying to avoid any contact. At the last second, he lashes out and grabs my arm, squeezing so hard I almost faint.

“I catch you alone, we’ll finish this, you little bitch. Take that to the bank,” he snarls in my ear and then releases me. I don’t give him the pleasure of seeing the pain in my eyes.

“Maybe I’ll tell my dad what you did, so you and he can discuss it. He’s downstairs. Want to guess how many pieces he breaks you into before they can pull him off?”

I don’t wait for his response, and I feel like an asshole for resorting to the ‘My dad will kick your ass’ defense. I’m twelve years old again and scared of the man only a few feet away from me, who doesn’t care about anything but imposing his will on me and punishing me for being alive.

I swore when I ran away I’d never let myself feel that way ever again. Two days in Clear Lake, and it’s like nothing’s changed.

A tear streaks down my cheek as Melody and I walk to the elevators, but I don’t sob. I won’t allow myself that. Melody seems to sense the internal struggle going on, and for once she doesn’t say anything. We wait in silence for the elevator. When the steel slabs slide open with a hiss, we step in at the same time, and she punches the lobby button.

“If I ever see that guy again, I’m going to kick his tiny balls around his neck,” she says conversationally. “What a total douche.”

“He is, isn’t he?” I agree. “But don’t say anything in front of my dad. I don’t want him to get into any trouble. Even though it would be worth it to watch him snap Ralph into matchsticks.”

“I won’t. Promise. But he’s lucky I didn’t have a lead pipe in my hand, because this
chica
would have gone ape on him.”

“He’s not worth it. Just another lowlife in a town full of them.”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t look so bad to me.”

“Your impression’s probably been colored by your two boys in uniform.”

“That and the breakfast place. As far as I can see, if a car mowed Ralph down, this would be a nice place to live.”

“Maybe so. But it’s too hard for me to get past the Ralph part. I can’t see anything past that now.”

“I can understand why.” She pauses. “Did he hurt you? Just now?”

I shrug. “How can you tell?”

“All the color drained out of your face. Either Derek’s ghost appeared to you in a vision, or he was doing his best to hurt you.”

“My leather jacket stopped the worst of it.”

The door opens, and we move through the lobby, every male eye on Melody as we approach the entrance. My dad’s in the Festiva, sipping a cup of coffee and reading the paper. He looks up as we near and smiles.

“Did you get a chance to say your goodbyes?”

“Sort of. She doesn’t seem to care what I say or what happens to me.”

“It’s the alcohol, Sage. She wasn’t always like that.”

“I know, Dad. But it’s hard to see her like this.”

He nods. “She’s still got a chance to turn it around.”

I look at him hard. I can tell he’s being positive for my sake, and for some reason, it makes me angry. “Do you think she will? Really?”

He turns away, unable to meet my eyes. “I don’t know the future. Nobody does. I just try to do the best I can, and let everyone else work their own plot.”