Jasmine’s POV
"Thank you,” he said to me.
Have you ever had that feeling where you felt like you were back in high school and your dreams were finally coming through because you were getting noticed by the popular guy who also happens to be your crush?
Well, that was what it felt like with Mr. Hollen. But I had to be very professional with and around him now that I was going to be working even closer with him and may have to accompany him to meetings and business trips. I didn’t know how I was going to contain and control myself but I need to.
Losing my job was not an option.
I arrived at my apartment. Pushed the key into the lock and opened the door to reveal my mother sitting on the couch, reading one of those gossip magazines.
“Hi Mom,” I greeted her, shutting the door behind me and taking my handbag off my shoulder.
“Hi Jassy, how was your day?”
“It was great. My boss is promoting me to be his Personal Assistant. I’m starting on Monday. Someone else would take over my previous position,” I explained to her with some excitement in my voice.
“That’s great. Congrats.”
“Thanks, Mom. Is Zenia home from school yet?”
Zenia was my younger sister and my best friend. She attended a community college because I couldn't afford to send her to an Ivy League university while still covering our living expenses, groceries, and taking care of Mom. It wasn't a burden to me, but at times we didn't have enough, especially when Mom's lungs started acting up. I was still paying off the medical bills from her last treatments.
I went to my bedroom and sat down on the bed, exhausted and hungry. I had walked all the way home from work to budget on cab fares. I was just so grateful because Hollen Tower was approximately one mile away from my home.
I changed out of my work attire and headed to the kitchen to start dinner. I had planned to make lasagna, potato salad, green vegetables, and rice with red beans.
Just then, Zenia walked through the front door.
“Hi Mommy,” I heard her voice greeting our mother.
“Hey baby. How was school?”
“It was all good. I have an assignment that I need to finish. Is Jassy home yet?”
“In here!” I called to her.
"Hi, sis," she said to me as she came up and hugged me from behind. "Whatever you're cooking, it already smells delicious. I'll go get changed and come back to help you."
“Don’t you have an assignment to do?”
“Yeah, but I already completed most of it with my free periods. I took your advice.”
"Always advance when you can,” we both said together with a laugh.
Zenia was twenty years old, four years younger than myself. It was easy to tell that we were sisters because she looked a lot like me. We both had long, black 4a type hair, dark brown eyes with naturally long lashes, and a warm, fallow brown complexion, which some people might describe as chocolate complexion. Our mother was African American, but she told us that our father was from Mexico.
That bastard.
When dinner was finished, I set the table and Zenia poured us some drinks. We sat down around the three seater dinner table and started eating.
“Mommy, how are you feeling?” Zenia asked her.
Mom looked pale and flushed like she hadn’t been eating properly.
“I’m fine,” she replied in very low whisper.
“You don’t look fine,” I said, studying her.
Sweat was pouring down her face and she made attemps to dry it off with a kitchen towel.
“Zenia, Call 911.”
“No! I’m fine. I don’t want to go to a hospital again. I’m fine. It’s just hot in here, that’s all. Lets eat,” she briskly responded and dismissed the concerns from us.
Zenia got up, closed in the windows and doors and turned on the air condition units.
“That’s better mom?” she asked her.
“Thank you, sweetheart.”
We ate in an awkward silence after that, Zenia and I glancing ever so often at her. There had been occurrences where she fainted in front of us and that always scared the shit out of me.
We finished dinner and I went to do the dishes while Zenia went to her room to complete her assignment. Mom went back to the couch and watched one of her favourite show, Fred. G. Sanford. I heard her laughing and it made me smile.
After washing the dishes, I was completely drained. I went and sat down next to my mother on the couch and watched television with her. The comedy show was almost over when suddenly she started gasping for oxygen and clutching her throat as if something had gotten stuck in it.
“Mom! MOM!” I yelled.
She rolled off the couch and fell onto the floor with a crash. I retrieved my phone from my pocket and dialled the emergency number and related the situation to the dispatcher.
“An ambulance is on its way ma’am,” he assured me.
“Please hurry. She’s not moving. She’s... not.... breathing....!”
“Can you administer CPR?” he asked.
Zenia appeared and began screaming with fright.
“Mom! Please not again!”
“Zen, she’ll be okay. She always pulls through. She’ll pull through this one again. She’ll be ...alright,” I said to my little sister with my voice already breaking.
“Ma’am?” the dispatcher’s voice came again.
“Yes, I’m here,” I answered with tears streaming down my face like rain on a rooftop. I hated seeing my mother like this, looking like she was close to her grave.
I pushed Zenia aside and got to work. I placed the heel of my hand on the centre of my mother’s chest, then placed the other hand on top and pressed down by five - six cm at a steady rate of one hundred to one hundred and twenty compressions per minute.
After every 30 chest compressions, I administered two rescue breaths. Gently, I tilted her head and lifted her chin with two fingers. Then, I pinched her nose and formed a seal with my mouth over hers, blowing steadily and firmly for about one second. I watched her chest rise. I continued with another two rescue breaths followed by another cycle of chest compressions and two more rescue breaths, repeating the process until emergency help arrived.
I pulled Zenia into my arms and comforted her as we watched on. The medical team placed an oxygen mask on Mom's face, connected to an air cylinder. This would provide air to her lungs until she could breathe fully on her own again. They gently transferred her onto a stretcher and loaded her into the back of the ambulance, and we went with her.
She was rushed into an Intensive Care Unit, but my sister and I weren't allowed inside. We sat down on the chairs in the waiting area, anxiously waiting for a doctor to update us on her condition. We were aware that she had end-stage COPD, but it was baffling because Mom had never smoked, taken drugs, or engaged in any unhealthy habits. Her lungs should have been healthy, but they just weren't.
I hugged my little sister tightly.
After two long hours and a half, a doctor came up to us. It was Doctor Summers. We recognized him from before and he recognized us too.
“Miss Blackman’s daughters, I’m afraid I have some bad news,” he began.
My heart stopped. My body went numb and I couldn’t even stand on my own two feet. His facial expression was sad and full of pity as he looked down at us. Zenia looked up at him, tears flowing down her face.
“Oh God, what’s wrong with our mother?” I asked, fearing the worst but hoping that it wasn’t the worst.
His mouth trembling to let the words fall out.