Unscripted (35 page)

“The
point
is that you just come in here and run roughshod over everybody—”

“‘Roughshod’?”

“Don’t deflect by making fun of my vocabulary. You come barging in, drag Alex out of here, you commit to helping to teach a class and then bail on it whenever it suits you, you mess with Kaylie’s relationship, not to mention—”

“You think I’m walking out on
you
.”

Mason was silent a moment, then continued, in a weary voice, “I don’t know what to think anymore. Except that I’ve come to realize that if it’s not about you, it doesn’t merit your attention for very long.”

I hadn’t felt this much pain in my gut since the ninja virus. Come to think of it, this hurt worse. “You’re being a dick.”

“Maybe. But you know I’m right.”

“So, what, I’m supposed to give up everything that I am now?”

“Of course not.”

“I
have
to go. It’s my
show
.”

“I’ve heard.”

“It’s the most important thing in the world to me!”

“
Themost
important?”

Dammit. This wasn’t coming out right. “What I mean is, it’s everything that makes me . . .”

“Faith Freakin’ Sinclair?”

I almost smiled. “Yeah.”

“I disagree.”
Argh.
I started to protest, but he went on, “You are
not
just a television show. It’s not your identity—not all that you are. If it got canceled tomorrow—”

“Don’t even . . . !”

“—You’d still be you. You’re much more than your show.”

“You don’t know me at all, do you?”

He looked at me thoughtfully. “I think I know you better than you’d care to admit. But I never pegged you for being insecure.”

“That’s because I’m
not,
thank you very much.”

“Okay.”

I stomped into the bathroom and slammed the door. Who did he think he was, calling me insecure and selfish? I spun around in the small room for a second or two, my insides churning. Then I stormed back out of the bathroom and landed on the bed with a thud, back on my knees, staring down at him again.

He groaned, irritated.
“What?”

“Why are you worried about us? L.A. isn’t that far from here. I know; I’ve made the drive enough times.”

“I’m
not
worried about us. Not really.”

“So what are you
talking
about?”

“I said there are other things going on besides your drama.”

“So tell me.”

He rubbed his eyes. “The trustees are shutting down the theater department.”

I stopped short, stunned.

“All those meetings I’ve been having—all the ones you
never ask about?
They were to discuss the future of the department. I’ve been fighting like hell to convince them to let us continue. But today they said it’s not cost effective. We don’t have enough theater students. It’s been decided that everyone at IECC can apply to transfer to UCR, since Riverside is only a few miles down the road, or another community college if they don’t want to enter a four-year program. But they won’t be needing any additional faculty at UCR, so I’m out of a job at the end of the semester, and I’m not sure where I’m going to end up.”

“That soon?”

“No time like the present, apparently. I thought they’d at least wait till the end of the year, but they want to shift the theater budget to other departments that need it right now.”

“Mason, I—I don’t know what to say . . .”

“How about ‘it sucks’?”

“Well, yeah, of course. It completely sucks. And you’re right. I haven’t been thinking of anything but the show. I should have asked.”

He shrugged. “I haven’t really gone out of my way to let you know.”

“But I knew something was up, and I didn’t bother to find out what was bothering you. I’m . . . I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“So what happens now?”

“Let’s just talk about it in the morning, okay? I’m really exhausted.”

“But—”

“Faith. Please?”

I sighed and nodded. Didn’t have much choice, did I?

Chapter 21

The tension between us had me so tied in knots, I barely slept. And when I finally dropped off, it seemed it was only moments later that my ringing phone woke me up. I fumbled around, grasping loosely at items on the nightstand until my hand closed around the noisy thing. Beside me, Mason groaned and rolled over.

Once I saw who was calling, I was wide awake in an instant. “Jamie!” I hissed. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Hallo, Faith—”

“Skip the pleasantries. You bastard—wait. What time is it?” Pushing my hair out of my eyes, I looked around for the glow of the digital clock on the dresser.

“Just about three.”

It felt like a rock landed in my stomach. “Are you in jail?”

“Nah, nah . . . er, hospital.”

“What’s wrong?” Panic replaced my anger, and my words tumbled out in a rush.

“Oh, I’m all right. It’s, er, Mona.”

I lurched into a sitting position. “What about Mona?” God, at her age, it could have been anything—stroke, heart attack . . .

At the word “Mona,” and likely my frantic tone, Mason came fully awake as well. Distantly, I felt him put a warm hand on my hip.

“She’s had some, er, complications from her surgery. Nasty infection.”

“Dammit!” Stupid plastic surgery. I flew out of bed, groping around in the dark for some clothes. “Which hospital?”

Jamie gave me Mona’s information and I promised I’d be there as soon as I could. Then I stood motionless in the dark, absolutely clueless about what to do next. It was like someone had flash-frozen me. Mason, bless him, was also on his feet.

“I’ll go with you.”

I tossed my phone onto the bed and dragged my fingers through my hair, gathering it into a ponytail even though I didn’t have an elastic band nearby. I tied it into a knot instead. “No. You have things to do here. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not so sure you should drive—you might be too upset—”

I took a breath and tried to appear completely composed, more for his sake than mine. “I’ll be fine. Really. I just . . . need to pack . . .”

“I could bring your things later—”

“No . . .” I said faintly. “I’ll take them. I don’t know how long . . .”

“I’ll help you, then.”

Most of my stuff was still hanging out of my suitcases, so we just flipped jeans, skirts, and shirts back into them, I put on whatever was handy, and I grabbed all my toiletries and dumped them into the nearest bag. Within minutes, I was out the door and hurrying toward my SUV in the cool darkness, Mason following with my biggest suitcase. We heaved the bags into the back and I yanked the driver’s side door open.

I was so preoccupied that I almost took off without saying good-bye, but at the last minute I froze again. Rooted to the driveway, I whispered, “Mason . . . ?”

He grasped my shoulders and kissed me on the forehead, as though he were willing strength into me. “Faith, everything will be fine.”

I nodded and climbed into the car, but before I could shut the door all the way, I jumped back out and into his arms. He held me tightly for a long minute as I tried not to get tears all over his T-shirt.

“I love you,” I stammered. “I’m . . . I’m sorry for being a selfish jerk before.”

“I love you too,” he whispered into my hair. “And I’m sorry too. Your mom will be fine. And you and I . . .
we’ll
be fine. I promise. Okay? One thing at a time. Just focus on your mom right now.” I nodded against his chest. “I want you to take a deep breath, dry your eyes, and drive carefully, all right?” I nodded again, swiping at my tears. “Hey,” he said, tipping my chin up, “at least you won’t have any traffic at this time of night.”

In spite of the situation, I laughed.

* * *

I drove straight to the hospital at unwise speeds, parked haphazardly, and ran through the corridors as fast as glaring nurses allowed. I didn’t know how serious my mother’s illness was, but it had to be dire if she actually had a room in a medical facility instead of doctors and nurses at her bedside at home. Sure enough, I found her in a private room that would have looked more like a hotel than a hospital if it hadn’t been for the bank of beeping machines and the collection of tubes running into her.

I bent over her. “Mom?” Her face was swollen and red with infection, the areas where she’d been operated on were bruised a deep purple. God.

Someone stirred in the shadows. Jamie rose from a chair by the windows, joined me at Mona’s bedside. “It’ll be all right, Faith.”

I could barely answer. There were so many questions I wanted to ask, so many fears I wanted to get out in the open so they weren’t festering inside me anymore. But when Jamie put his arm around me, I just withered, leaned my head on his shoulder, and said, “You don’t really know that, though, do you?”

“Why wouldn’t it be, eh?”

“Why did she have to have plastic surgery?”

“Faith, you’ve lived in Los Angeles all your life. You may as well ask why the sky is brown.”

He was right on that one. I sighed, retreating to safe, sure practicalities. “Did you call Dominic?”

“Yes. She didn’t want me to, you know. Said it’d just frighten him. But when she got worse, I thought . . .”

“You did the right thing. How long will it take him to get back?”

“A couple of days. Crazy old bugger is at some remote beach for the enormous waves. Has to make his way back to Sydney and then find a flight here.”

I hesitated before asking my next question. “What did the doctors say?”

Jamie summarized what the medical team had found: Mona was fighting an infection that had started to go septic. Luckily it hadn’t spread very far before her home nurse realized it; otherwise she would have been doing time in intensive care. As it was, they were pumping her full of antibiotics, and we just had to wait until the medication fought off the infection. There was nothing Jamie or I could do for her at the moment but will her back to health from our perches on the periphery in the hospital room.

So we waited.

And although we sat side by side, with all the time in the world to talk, I couldn’t grill Jamie about the money he took. Honestly, that issue came in a distant second to whether my mother got better or worse at any given moment. I was sure that Jamie was on tenterhooks, waiting for me to jump on him about it, but it wasn’t going to happen—not right now. Soon, though.

Around dawn, just as I was nodding off in my chair, I noticed my mom stirring. I hurried to the metal rail, fumbled with it until it dropped lower.

“Mom?”

She mumbled something I couldn’t make out.

“I’m here. Don’t try to talk, all right? Unless you need something. Do you need something?”

Her hand fumbled at her side, reached for me. I took it in both of my own and held it tightly. It was very cool and dry.

I didn’t know what else to do, so I stayed right there and held her hand. I thought she had fallen asleep again, but a few minutes later she murmured, “Rmry.”

“I’m here, Mom.”

Her eyes fluttered open, then closed. But she squeezed my hand.

Jamie quietly brought the chair I had been sitting in over to me and unobtrusively tucked it behind my knees. I sank into it, still holding onto my mother.

* * *

I fell asleep there, with my head on my arm. Hours later, I opened my eyes and raised my head to find my mother was looking straight at me, her imperious stare back with a vengeance, although it was lessened somewhat by the bandages, bruises, and swelling.

“Rosemary,” she said, her speech slurring a little. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re in the hospital.”

“I know that.”

I almost laughed—she was close to sounding like her usual snappish self. “Well, when you end up in the hospital and Jamie calls me at three in the morning to tell me, I figure I’d better show up.”

“Very true.”

“Mom?”

“Could you get me some water, Rosemary? I’m quite thirsty.”

“Glacier water?”

“They have that here?”

“I don’t know. How about whatever’s in this pitcher?”

“I suppose it’ll have to do.” I poured some water into a glass and held the straw to her lips. When she’d taken a sip, she said, a little more clearly, “Aren’t you supposed to be teaching?”