“The baby is okay. You had a ruptured ovarian cyst.”

That voice sounds familiar. Struggling to open my eyes, I can faintly make out my surroundings: hospital room, oxygen tube in my nose, and the the faint smell of vanilla mint. My mother is here. Geez, my mouth is dry. I signal for some water.

“Here you go honey,” she coos, adjusting the bed position so I’m sitting up.

Savoring the water, I wait for the coolness to hydrate my mouth.

“Thank you. It’s nice to see you, but why are you here?”

Never at a loss for words, my mother sits on the end of my bed. Dressed in a mint green caftan and gladiator sandals, she’s so zen. It’s disgusting, yet perfect for a humanistic psychologist.

“Ashley called me. Told me that you’re having dreams about miscarrying, Yelena, and blood. I believe Karma, working through your subconscious, is trying to tell you something.”

I roll my eyes.

“Exactly what would Karma and my subconscious be trying to tell me?”

I low key know the answer to this question already. My mother must have sensed it.

“Have you and Ashley sat down and thought of the ramifications of your actions? What you both have done has affected more people than you think. Then, instead of facing the situation head on, the two of you disappear. Let me tell you something, you can run all you want to, but Karma will always find you. Let that marinate.”

I open my mouth to speak, but my mother motions for me to remain silent.

“This medical episode that you had is no coincidence. You and Ashley will continue to be plagued with issues until you make things right.”

Thankfully, the nurse enters the room to give me another round of meds. I watch the liquid flow through the IV as I wait to drift into the clouds. My mother gathers her bag, kisses me on the cheek ,and heads towards the door.

“This isn’t over Susan. It would be in your best interest to listen to me,” she warns, brushing past Ashley on her way out.

Eyelids heavy, I drift off to sleep. Finally, some peace.