“Ivy, bring me my phone,” I kept my tone as calm as I could. “It’s in my purse.”
“Is sumfing wrong wif mommy?” Tristan asked, his words unrecognizable than from his tears.
“She’s not feeling well,” I explained, not sure how to tell him that she was dead.
Ivy handed me my phone. I dialed 911 and pressed the phone to my ear. “Ivy,” I took the girl into my arms, hugging her, “I want you to take Tristan to your room and play for a little while, okay?”
She nodded. “She’s dead…isn’t she?” Ivy whispered in my ear.
I nodded. There was no point in lying to her.
She reached her hand out for Tristan’s and spoke to him sweetly as she coaxed him out of the room.
“911, what is your emergency?”
“Uh…” What the heck was I supposed to say?
“Ma’am, what’s your emergency?” The operator asked again.
“I-uh-my mom, she’s dead. An overdose, I think,” I muttered, feeling so exhausted.
And shouldn’t I have been sad? Or remorseful? Something? The woman who was my mom was dead and I didn’t even feel like crying. I’d stopped caring about her a long time ago and after everything she’d done to me I felt nothing but relief at her passing.
“What’s your address?”
I rattled it off.
“I’m sending an ambulance and a police officer to your house. They should be there in ten minutes,” the woman said.
“Okay,” I said slowly, my voice sounding as dead as the woman lying on the couch. I was in shock.
I hung up the phone, dropping it to the ground and crawling across the floor to the other side of the room where I sat with my legs drawn up to my chest and my arms wrapped around them.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.
I couldn’t take my eyes off her body slumped on the couch. Empty bottles lay beside her.
She could no longer be a pain in my ass, or smack me around, or hold those wretched legal papers over my head. I was free to tell Tristan that he was my son…but at his age, was that the right thing to do? Was he ready for the truth? I didn’t think I could live with this secret anymore, and now that she was gone, I didn’t have to.
“Row?”
I looked up to see Tristan standing beside the couch with Ivy behind him, looking from my mom to me.
“We heard the sirens,” Ivy whispered, like she was afraid I’d be mad they left the room.
I shook my head, slowly coming to my feet.
Sirens?
I forced myself to focus, and I could indeed hear sirens in the distance.
“I need you guys to stay in the bedroom,” I slowly came to my feet. “Wait there for me, okay?”
Tristan ran forward, wrapping his arms around my leg. “I don’t want to leave you, Row.”
I squatted down so I was at his eye-level. “I know you don’t, but I need you to be a big boy and do this for me.” I ran my fingers through his sandy hair. “Can you be a big boy?”
After a minute, he reluctantly nodded.
“Good,” I kissed his cheek, steering him back to Ivy.
They went back to their bedroom and I heard the door shut.
At that moment there was a knock on the door, announcing the presence of the paramedics and police.
I opened the door, letting them inside.
It didn’t take the paramedics long to pronounce her dead.
The police came inside, looking around, and asking me questions. I knew it was all standard procedure, but it still bugged me. I wasn’t a criminal, and I most certainly wasn’t a murder, so I didn’t see why they thought they needed to interview me.
When they finally finished their questioning, it was beyond late. I wanted nothing more than to get in the bed, and be done with this day. I was still numb to the fact that I’d come home to find my mom dead. It didn’t seem real, and I felt like a despicable person for being happy that she was gone. She had done horrible things to me, and I didn’t have an ounce of love or even gratitude for the woman. She’d destroyed every good thing I had in life.
“We’re going to have an autopsy done,” the police officer said, heading for the door. “We shouldn’t rule out foul play yet.”
In other words, I was a suspect and I shouldn’t leave the state. Good to know.
I nodded. “Okay,” I forced the word out of my mouth as the two officers descended the front steps. I closed the door, locking it.
I turned around, my back against the door, and bile rose in my throat. I couldn’t take my eyes off the couch where she had died. I ran for the bathroom, collapsing in front of the toilet as I emptied my stomach contents into it. I heaved, unable to breathe, and tears stung my eyes.