Trivial Pursuits Ch. 22

Dear Readers,

Firstly, let me apologize for the length it took for me to get this story finally finished. Despite having it all mapped out, I amazingly surprise myself with how wordy I am (one would think I would learn, but alas...) And secondly let me thank everyone who stuck with this story and continually offered encouragement and critiques that helped sharpen my writing skills. So appreciated!

Lots of things happen in this chapter, but I hope it is a satisfying ending to this damaged woman's journey to accepting love.

As always, give me your feedback; the good, the bad, and the ugly. I promise, I can take it :)

And again, a big thanks to AlreadyTaken for not only her editing skills but giving it to me straight up and pushing me in the right direction (she's the reason it's later than I thought because of the massive amount of rewriting she suggested I do), and to 'Dave'-you know who you are.

Enjoy!

Titania

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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

"So let the highway bring release

And distance take the memory

Hey hey don't let no history stand between

But mine ain't ghostly

Hums like a reed

And clings to these bleach white sheets

After you leave

After you leave

How you gonna be?

Guiltfree."

"Guiltfree" by Bootstraps

Alessa's mother died on Christmas Eve. It was Saturday morning and one of the nurses had just brought Alessa another cup of coffee. It was hot, nearly scalding her tongue. As she took a sharp inhale to cool her mouth, Eileen's heart rate and oximeter reading plummeted, a jarring bleat pinging straight through Alessa's heart into her brain. Instantly, two nurses walked into the small room, one immediately turning her attention to the monitors, the other donning a stethoscope and listening to the dying patient's chest.

"What's going on?" Alessa questioned as she stood up, falling back out of their way. "What's happening?" she asked again when they didn't immediately respond.

"She's flat-lined," the sterner of the two ladies stated in a clipped tone as she continued to stare at the monitor, waiting for any indication that the patient was still alive.

"Dead?" Alessa's voice strained. "Well do something! Use the defibrillator!" she instructed.

"We can't resuscitate her," she replied, finally turning to look at Eileen. "She has a DNAR in place."

"What?" Alessa struggled to understand, to emerge from the painful panic and absorb the fullness of the implications. "No, no, no, no, no, no," she babbled, taking a quick step up to the side of her mother's bed, laying a hand over her leg. She stared pleadingly up at the other nurse named Lacey, the younger one with the soft brown eyes who had brought her coffee. "You have to do something; please, you have to do something. Don't quit. You can't just let her die!" she begged, tears now fully coursing down her cheeks.

But Lacey, tearing up herself, only shook her head. "I'm sorry, Alessa, we can't. We can't do anything. It's against the law. We'd lose our licenses," she tried to reason.

Alessa's face screwed in pained anger, for once the law meaning nothing to her. "Fuck your license! Save my mom!" But she didn't give them a chance to respond, but instead took a closer step to the head of the bed, leaning over her mother, her tears falling on the dead woman's face. "Mom! Please! Don't do this! Mom! Mom, wake up!" she was screaming, her hands clasping desperately to the white hospital gown, her head falling into the crook of her mother's neck. "Mom," she wept. "Please, please, please, please," she begged, her words drowned in her sobs.

"I'm calling time of death at," the first nurse looked up at the clock on the wall, "seven forty-eight a.m. Confirm?" she asked the younger nurse who still had tears in her eyes.

"Yes. Seven forty-eight," she managed in a scratchy voice.

As the first nurse began to leave, she stated she would let Eileen's physician know and then turned to Lacey. She mouthed, "Keep an eye on her," and then was out the glass sliding door to file the paperwork.

Lacey turned back to the scene. Alessa still clung to her mother, her anguished crying muffled against Eileen's body. The word please poured from her mouth over and over as she begged her mother to respond, to change her mind about dying, to wake up and hold her. But that wasn't possible.

The nurse stepped forward to offer comfort and called to Alessa softly.

"Get away. Please, just go. Just leave me alone," she managed to command between her sobs.

"Okay. Let me know if you need anything," she offered, but didn't stay for Alessa to respond. Lacey tightly closed the sliding door, taking a deep breath as she looked up at the ceiling. She felt the welling of tears that she knew she wouldn't be able to hold back. Swiftly, she walked to the staff restroom and allowed herself to cry until the sadness abated.

Alessa's own grief was not so quick in passing, but it returned upon her in heavy, drowning waves that swelled high and pulled her sobbing under. Memories upon memories surged in her pained mind, small wishes to return back, to relive, to be again. But she would never have another Christmas, another birthday cake with her mother. No more sitting together in her mother's room. No more double features at the movies. Her mom had taken them with her. And the long life ahead without her pressed down on Alessa's chest, crushing her every time the realization came on the tail end of those memories.

At some point an hour or so later, she received a text. Her heaving sobs had finally dissipated as the acute sharpness had begun to blur away into a penetrating, pervasive ache. Sniffling, she sat up from her mother's body and dug her phone from her pocket. She wiped her wet cheeks as she saw Denny texted to say he had arrived and brought her clean clothes and another book.

After the first night her mother had been admitted, Alessa had refused to leave the hospital, and had gotten permission to pass off her urgent tasks to others at work. Though Denny tried to stay with her as much as his schedule would allow, it was tough as the holiday season meant most of the office was already on vacation leaving him to shoulder the majority of Alessa's workload along with his own. They had cancelled plans to go back north to see his parents, though she had tried to talk him into keeping his promise to see them. But he had refused to leave her while she stayed with her mother. As it was Saturday, he had arranged to bring all his work with him so he could sit in the waiting area while she sat with Eileen.

Seeing his text, she burst out in tears again, suddenly overwhelmed with the duty to inform him-to inform Bill, her own dad, anyone who mattered—of her mother's passing. And then the reality that her mom was dead hit again, the dull ache throbbing back to life, sharpening back to piercing pain. Somehow, she managed to regain control of her emotions, drying her tears and blowing her nose. The wastebasket was filling fast with the crumbled bits of tissue, she thought morosely as she passed it on her way out the door. She could just make out his legs through the opposite sliding glass doors, which led out to the waiting area. They were clad in denim and casually crossed, the rest of him cut off by the wall. They were her destination. He was her island of relief, and her feet responded, walking faster and faster until she nearly dashed through the doors.

Denny looked up sharply, and seeing her distress stood and opened his arms. He knew from the redness in her eyes and cheeks without her having to say a word. And so he just enveloped her in his arms and allowed her to cling to him like a buoy.

When they arrived home after an emotionally exhausting day spent at the hospital tending to the monumental array of decisions to be made, Denny put her in the shower, joining her so he could slowly, methodically bathe her. She had fallen into a sort of stupor, dull and listless and he had taken great care with her. And though Pima had arrived to stay with them until the funeral, it was Denny she found the greatest solace with, seeking him out and rarely allowing him to separate his body from hers.

Over the course of the next few days as she and Bill settled funeral arrangements, Denny was there for her, his solid and warm presence something safe and calm she could draw peace from. Without realizing it, Alessa began relying upon him more and more to ease her emotional turmoil as her typical escapes of work and running seemed to fail to bring any peace or control. When her father's sadness had suddenly angered her, Denny had been there to soothe her, murmuring words of comfort, guiding her to control herself and not act or speak rashly. When the flotsam and jetsam of the Christmas season hung in the air, tinging the occasion of her mother's death in a mawkish sentimentality that nauseated her, Denny was there to pull her away from the world so that only they two existed.

His service to her at times seemed preternatural. Once, during the reception following the funeral service, Alessa had become claustrophobic with the number of people seeking to give her their condolences or share memories of her mother. She felt like she was spinning inside, the voices all merging into confusing, demented garble. And then he was suddenly there, his eyes smiling gently, reassuringly. His hand was at her back, and she heard his voice speak to the others; then he was guiding her away until the crowd was a soft murmur in the background. He had taken her to a small room appointed with a couch and matching loveseat and several standard chairs. Denny sat on the couch and pulled her down to lay next to him, her head in his lap. He softly and silently brushed her hair back, the tips of his fingers gliding like combs through it and down her neck.

The hardest part during the whole ordeal was when Bill asked if she would come and go through her mother's things, cleaning it all out and doing with it what Alessa thought best. The request had frozen her at first as she didn't think she could survive the task. But then Denny offered to go with her and help as she needed. Instantly she felt a wave of relief, and though she was reluctant for him to witness the actual mess her mother's life had become, she knew she wouldn't be able to do it alone. Reluctantly and thankfully she agreed, and so on the following Saturday they drove out to Walnut Creek.

Eileen's room was worse than she remembered, and as Alessa struggled to remember when she had actually been there last, she felt an inescapable stab of guilt that this was all somehow her fault. If she hadn't avoided her mother's problems by avoiding her, then maybe Eileen wouldn't have felt so hopeless when facing her illness. Angry, self-loathing tears of regret sprung to her eyes. She clenched her hands into fists at her sides, hate for her own cowardice beating with each pump of her heart.

Self-conscious about her mother's obvious hoarding behavior, she was thankful Denny didn't seem phased, but only asked what task he could do and focused on the sheer mechanics of accomplishing it. They were there through the majority of the day, and by the end of the unhappy and grueling day, Alessa had divided her mother's belongings between sentimental pieces she wanted to keep, things to be donated and things that could simply be thrown away. All told, there were twelve bags of crap to thrown away and four large bags of things to donate to the nearest shelter. Ultimately, her mother's life was sifted down to a medium-sized packing box Alessa carried with her.

"All finished?" a forlorn-looking Bill asked, glancing up from his iPad as Alessa and Denny walked through the living room to leave. He stood up and walked over.

Denny silently witnessed Alessa take an unconscious step back. "Yes, we're all done. The room just needs to be cleaned. The sheets to the bed are still in the dryer," she informed him. She regarded him a minute, and then gave a nod. "Well, goodbye Bill. Take care."

As she was turning to leave, he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Babe, think you'll come back for Christmas? We didn't really have a chance to celebrate with your mom in the hospital and all."

Alessa tensed before she shrugged off his hand. She turned to him, her own sorrow-filled eyes sparking to life with indignation.

"Bill. Listen because I am only saying this one time. It is not a discussion. There will be no bargaining. I am telling you. I do not want to see you again. Never contact me. Ever." She held up her hand when he opened his mouth. "And you know why. For the sake of Mom, I never told her what you did, but if you try to contact me, I will use the full extent of the law to make you pay. Nod your head yes that you agree."

A dumbed and now reddening Bill did as she commanded. Satisfied she turned and marched out of the house hoping to never look back. He stood in the open door watching her walk to the car though Denny stayed behind. It was now his turn. He slowly turned to face the man.

"She let you off easy," he growled through clenched teeth, "threatening you with only the law. I won't be so nice if you don't do as she asked. Understand me?" He stared the older man down with all the menace he felt brewing in his body. Bill visibly shrank and was only able to manage a stunned blink of the eyes as he stood frozen in fear. Satisfied that the creep of a man understood the threat, Denton turned and drove Alessa home.

The following Monday found everyone returning to work; the torturous holidays were officially over though the decorations still hung around, and Alessa was desperate to put all the recent pain behind her. She was thankful that her lack of friendships meant she wasn't overly accosted by well-wishers who continually stirred up thoughts of her mom and the pain she was trying to forget. And while Lou had come to the funeral and sent her a few texts throughout their time apart, she had been conspicuously absent from Alessa's view most of the morning.

However, as Alessa entered the women's restroom, she heard sniffling coming from one of the stalls. It wasn't until after she had used the toilet and was washing her hands that she could see reflected in the mirror a pair of familiar purple shoes peeking out from under one of the doors.

"Lou?" she asked softly as she dried her hands and stepped towards the door. "Why are you crying? What's wrong?"

"Oh, thank the Lord," the crying woman said in obvious relief. "At first I thought you were that vapid gossip Vanessa. Heaven knows what lies she'd spread if she knew I was in here blubbering like a simpleton. Did you know you had the same shoes?" she asked through her sniffles. Alessa gave a grimacing half-smile. Leave it to Lou to be concerned with others' fashion even when she was in tears. Lou gave a very wet sounding blow of her nose into tissues and then a few more sniffles. Alessa stepped back as she opened the stall door, red eyes and pink cheeks.

"What happened?" Alessa asked again, reaching out a hand to stroke soothingly on Lou's shoulder.

"The same thing that always ends up happening sooner or later," she said in a voice husky from her crying. "We broke up." She went to one of the sinks to tend to her face.

"Oh, you mean you and Richard?" Alessa asked, surprised her friend's distress wasn't work related. "What happened? Why?"

"Well, we'd been fighting a lot lately. Squabbling. Over little things, really. And Saturday he just came out and said it. He didn't want to bother with it any more. Said it wasn't worth it. Wanted a fresh start with the new year." More tears sprung to her eyes and her voice failed her. "I thought he loved me. I thought we were in love." Alessa's hand was at Lou's back as she pulled her in for a gentle hug. When Lou stopped crying and began wiping at her face, she continued on, her British accent now extremely thick and forlorn. "Just goes to show you. It won't last if it's not real. Hell," she said miserably, "even then, there's no guarantee.

"And now comes the painful part. Settling back into life, into a routine. But without him. Oh god, what I wouldn't do for a chance to escape, you know? Just leave and start over somewhere else. Ironic, isn't it? He wanted a fresh start, but that forces me to want one, too. But that's as unlikely as winning the lottery." She blew her nose once more, dabbed the tears away and faked a smile. "Come on, let's go."

As it was almost lunch time, Alessa suggested they go out for lunch, her treat. Lou's smile was cockeyed. "I think I'm softening you up," she teased as they donned their rain coats.

Alessa rolled her eyes and smiled. "Maybe so." Though Alessa thought Lou would have wanted a chance to forget about her break-up, the pain was too near the surface, it seemed, and she couldn't stop ranting about him. Fortunately, her sense of humor twisted everything into something laughable, and though the idea of breakups was wearing uncomfortably on Alessa, she was able for a time to forget her own recent heartache.

Despite the lack of condolences from her office-mates, Macrae wasn't as neglectful and called Alessa into her office late Friday morning.

"And how has your first week back gone?" she asked after a short bout of chit-chat. She was dressed in a form fitting, modern-cut red suit and leaning forward on her forearms, her hands clasped together. There had been talk that she'd gone home to Australia for nearly a month, and the warm glow of her skin seemed to confirm she'd spent the holidays in sunnier climes.

"Listen, I know part of your job as head of HR requires a certain amount of monitoring of your employees' mental health and its impact on their capacity to do their job, but I'd rather not discuss it. Simply stated, I'm here and ready to get back to work."

"I wasn't just asking as director of HR. But now that you mention it, yes, it is part of my job to ensure you are mentally fit to be a lawyer here and not fuck up."

Alessa was momentarily taken aback that she had come across short with her boss, instead of being grateful for her possible friendship. She offered more information, figuring it couldn't hurt to be a little open with a senior partner who seemed to take a personal interest in her. "My mom has been sick for years. The emotional drain from it is nothing new. It hasn't affected my job before and it won't now. I'm as fit as ever to work here."

Macrae was silent a moment as she studied her before responding. "Being unaffected by your mother's death isn't what makes you fit to work here. You have to cope with things. Honestly cope with them. Face them and adjust as necessary. That's what makes a good lawyer. Not someone who ignores the truth of things."

Alessa sat quietly, a begrudging purse of her lips as she considered the possibility that she had been treating her mother's death a little like she had her illness. "Denny's been very supportive, very helpful. Indispensable," she blurted, somehow hoping that his involvement would somehow prove she was dealing with it.

Macrae's eyes narrowed, and again her scrutiny began to make Alessa somehow uncomfortable, unsure. "I'm glad your relationship is working out," she began carefully. "Obviously, for the firm at this point it's better if it lasts. And like I've said in the past, it's important to have someone in your life, to work hard to make a relationship function. But be careful. You can't trust someone else to be your safety net, at least not always. Sometimes people just aren't available. That's what I always thought about you, that you didn't need anyone. But now? He's indispensable?" her eyebrow raised.

Macrae leaned back, feeling her philosophical point was made. "I don't mean to interfere, at least too much," she said with a half-smile. "If there is anything I can do, anything from a managerial stand point, come to me so we can discuss it, alright?"