Dirty Little Secrets

Chapter Fourteen

I didn't see my mother for the next two days.

            In fact, she was a no-show until I was discharged from hospital, complete with about a thousand and one bandages, a wrist brace and a wheelchair (which, yes, I did have to stay in for at least two weeks). But I spent my time with Zach, who stayed by my side faithfully, reading to me or talking with me or lying in bed with me discussing our utopian world. I didn't see Perrie either, but she had come back in that night whilst Zach was drifting off to sleep beside me and told me she'd see me when I got out of hospital.

            It wasn't like I needed or missed my mother's presence, but the fact I hadn't seen her since she'd left with my father had me worried. Where had she been? What had she been doing all this time?

            But still, when they let me out with Zach guiding my wheelchair through the white halls, I found my mother at the check-out desk, filling out paperwork with the smooth finesse of a woman who has filled out many documents before in her lifetime.

            "Mom," I said, surprised. I supposed I should've guessed she'd turn up (since she was my legal guardian even though I was eighteen), but it still surprised me to see her there.

            She turned around, and I could see that she was not the Marie Stryker that I was used to. Her teal tunic hadn't been ironed, her pants weren't pressed, and she only wore ballet slippers. Her hair was combed, but not styled, and she looked old and frail; nothing like the put-together woman I was used to.

            She smiled warmly. "Cam," she said. I looked around, wondering if I'd stepped into an alternate universe. My mother had never taken that sweet tone with me, nor had she ever smiled so affectionately. That wasn't our kind of relationship. She gestured to the desk. "I just finished the paperwork. Have you collected your things?"

            I nodded and held up the duffel she'd packed for me the night of the accident, which only had a change of clothes, some pajamas, a hairbrush and a tube of toothpaste and my toothbrush. "All ready to go."

            She nodded. "Excellent." She stepped forward and threw Zach a timid smile. "I can take it from here, Zachary."

            "Please, call me Zach," he replied, but relinquished his hold of the wheelchair nonetheless.

            "Right," she replied. "Zach. Do you need a ride home?"

            What was this? Since when was my mother friendly with Zach? Last I'd checked, they'd totally disapproved of my relationship with Zach, and now she was offering to drop him home?

            "Thank you, anyway, Mrs. Stryker," he said. "But I drove my car here."

            She nodded. "Of course. And, please, call me Marie."

           

            He nodded and bid us goodbye, before starting off and out of the doors. Outside, it was a balmy sixty-one degrees Fahrenheit, and the sky was a perfect, cloudless blue.