"No," I told her, calmly, as though I were trying to level with her. It was a mistake. It was something else, someone else or any number of things.
    "No," I repeated but I knew that it wasn't a mistake.

    Secretly, I had been expecting this call since Eugene died. It wasn't only because of my mother's drug addiction, I was waiting for this call in regards to anyone that I cared about. After Eugene's suicide, I didn't trust anyone not to die.
    "When can you be home?" Jane asked.
    I spaced out on a spot on the floor.
    "I'll get the first flight out," I felt dizzy, "Jane, I have to go. Don't tell me what happened until I get home."
    "Honey, are you okay?"
    "Yeah--I don't know. I'm fine. It's fine. I'll call you in a little while."
    "I love you," assured my sister.
    "I love you, too," I replied, blankly.

    I hung up and stared at the spot on the floor again. Then I pulled myself together, numbly, and made a phone call.


***

    I called Holly. I asked her to see if Adam could cover my radio show. Adam agreed without hesitation. Holly insisted on rushing over even though I insisted that she didn't.
    I couldn't bring myself to call anyone else. I didn't want to worry anyone but most of all I was confused.
    My phone began to ring with a blocked phone number. I didn't answer.
   
    Holly walked into my apartment without knocking and, for once, wordlessly, squeezed me in her arms.
    "I'm fine," I told her.
    "Do you need anything?" She asked.
    "I don't even know what's going on."
    I couldn't think. I walked into the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bathtub.
    I watched out the open door as Holly assessed the living room and paused on the cardboard boxes. She shook her head as though dismissing it as grief.
    She joined me in the bathroom and I watched her rummage through drawers to gather up my toiletries into a train case. She didn't ask my opinion. She just took charge.
    "You'd be a good tour manager," I mused. I'd meant it as a joke but it didn't sound funny.
    I left the bathroom and stood in front of my wardrobe closet, confused. What was I supposed to wear? What was supposed to be happening?
    "Move aside," Holly said as she came in from the bathroom, carrying the train case.
    She pulled down a few items from hangers then made her way through the dresser drawers grabbing bras, underwear, pantyhose, socks, t-shirts, jeans, cardigans.
    "The weather forecast said that it's only fifty degrees there... in June, I don't understand it. Where's your good coat at?"
    "Um--- coat rack. Next to the door."
    She came back carrying my white peacoat and a red scarf. She closed and latched the suitcase.
    She searched my cupboards for any sign of alcohol and found the only thing fit for consumption. A bottle of white wine. I didn't even really like white wine. She poured me a glass.
    "You should be keeping this in the fridge, you know," She sat beside me, "Do you want me to call Christian?"
    I drank the whole glass without removing it from my lips. I shook my head.
    "He won't talk to me."
    Holly looked sympathetic, "He'll get over it. Now isn't the time to go into it."
    "It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter, now, anyway."
    She hesitated, "Should I maybe call Adrian?"
    I shot her a look. She threw up her hands.
    "Fine!"
    I felt my lips purse into a crooked smile, "I wish that my mom..."
    I sat on the edge of the sofa with my face in my palms. I rubbed my eyes. I didn't know how to finish that sentence.
    "God, I don't want to cry," I moaned. Holly edged closer.
    "I booked your flight but it doesn't leave until six a.m. It was the first one that I could get you on. Honey, I'm so sorry."
    "You booked my flight?"
    She waved her hand as though it were nothing, "You shouldn't have to think about anything right now. You'll have enough to think about when you get there."
    "Thank you," I couldn't articulate my gratitude to her.
    She tried alleviate the situation with distraction. She bounded up and placed her hands akimbo.
    "Well, what do you want to do? We have all night." She asked, lightly.
    "Wait. I just want to wait."

    ***

    "Are you sure that you don't want me to come with you?" Holly asked me, again. She had walked with me to the security checkpoint, as far as she was allowed to go.
    I shook my head in the negative. She hugged me so tightly that it was difficult to breathe.
    "I will fly up the second that you call me. The moment that you need me."
    I thanked her, no sound was emitted but my lips moved and air was pushed past them.
    I took off my shoes and placed them in the x-ray bucket. Once through the metal detector, I looked behind me. Holly was still standing at the checkpoint watching me. She didn't have to tell me. I knew that she wouldn't leave until I did.


    I sat lonely at the gate waiting for them to board my flight. My blood ran cold. My whole body felt so cold.
    I thought about my mom and wondered what killed her. I didn't want the details until I got home. I wanted to spare my sister from being alone in a room with nothing but the telephone and a bunch of sketchy facts. Jane had been the one to tell me when Eugene died.

    Eugene. Eugene. Eugene.
   
    I wanted my brother. I needed him. He was the oldest. He was supposed to take care of these things and make arrangements. Eugene would've talked me through this. Eugene was dead. Our mother was dead.
    Mom wouldn't get out of bed when Eugene died. She spent most of the last six years there collecting disability for an illness that none of us honestly believed that she had. She was drugged on painkillers, anti-anxiety medication, anti-depressants and mood stabilizers. She had "friends" who were smuggling her Soma from Tijuana. She was smoking cigarettes and pot, drinking beer and rum, watching true crime documentaries. Grizzly things about forensics and murders.
    It had been meth that had stolen her from me as a child and because she had quit using when I hit thirteen-- she still considered herself "clean".
    Sitting in the airport, thinking about my family, made me consider that maybe I didn't leave Seattle because of a better opportunity but because I was afraid that staying near my family would make me more like one of them. Alcohol, prescription drugs, suicide and depression. That was the future that I was looking at in Seattle. Sure, people were superficial in Los Angeles but maybe no feelings were better than painful ones.
    My head was spinning. I had been so caught up in romance, beauty, movies, awards, sunshine and 30,000 dollars then 2.25 million dollars then 20 million dollars, that I had forgotten about my mother. The last time that I had talked to her was from in front of the bar in San Diego while Adrian was inside. I was so distracted by my life that I couldn't remember the conversation. I couldn't remember telling her that I loved her. I couldn't remember how her voice sounded or the background noise.
    I sent my sister a text message right then,
    "I love you."
    Send.
   
    My phone rang almost immediately after the message had been sent. I answered it on instinct.
    "Hi Jane," I spoke weakly.
    "Hello Audrey," The man's voice soothed. A wave of sick hit me.
    "Edward?"
    "Surprised?"
    "Hardly. With the way that you keep track of me, I expected this call hours ago."
    "There's no need to be hostile. I can assure you that my intentions are honorable."
    "You assure me of a lot of things," I jeered.
    "I'm sorry to hear about your mother," His tone was apathetic.
    "No, you aren't. It's one less round of treatment that you have to pay for."
    "You know, funerals can be pretty expensive..."
    "Leave me alone," I seethed.
    "You'll thank me later."
    Instead of just hanging up on him, I turned off my phone completely.

    I stared hard at the floor.
    A black messenger bag decorated with a few band pins was set at my feet. I felt an arm around my shoulders in a warm embrace and for some reason, instead of being alarmed, I was so numb that it was comforting. I had been thinking about Eugene and for a moment, I tricked myself into thinking that it was his arm around me. It was like posing for photographs. He would sit beside me with that arm around my shoulders. Hot, uncomfortable tears rolled down my face.
    "Mom's dead." I whispered to him. I looked up expecting to see my brother but saw Adrian. He searched his pockets for a tissue but came up empty.
    "I don't have a tissue, but I have a sleeve," He pulled the sleeve of his gray hooded sweatshirt over his hands and wiped my eyes & nose, "There."
    He gave me a caring smile.
    "What are you doing here?"
    "I couldn't sleep," He tried to joke but knew that he wouldn't get a laugh out of me, "Where else would I be?"

    Adrian and I were trying to find our seats when I stopped the stewardess to ask for two Bloody Mary's (both for me). She didn't even bat an eyelash at me. Holly did a good thing by booking me on Virgin America. She did a good thing by splurging for first class. I wanted to drink myself stupid.
    Adrian reached into his bag, "I have for you-- the very best that the airport gift shop had to offer...There is a romance novel," He shrugged, "The cover says that they're turning it into a movie and it seemed like light reading-- and a couple of chocolate bars. Do you want anything?"
    I shook my head. I shotgunned the first Bloody Mary.
    "Okay," said Adrian, "I'll hold on to them until you're ready. Do you want to talk about it?"
    I shook my head again, "Not really."
    "Okay," He nodded for a long time. He was uncomfortable, as one is when dealing with sudden death.
    I put a finger to my temple, "Adrian. My mom?"
    I was shaking.
    He placed his head upon my shoulder.
    "I know, Aud. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."