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off. The ringing continues as I glance around the ill-lighted room. I notice the sun is not shining through the blinds. I roll over onto my back and check my watch still under a wave of alcohol. It’s only 4:12 in the morning.  The ringing has stopped but immediately starts back up again. I push myself up to a sitting position. Quickly, I pick my phone up, suddenly concerned, wondering why someone needs to get a hold of me this early in the morning. It stops ringing before I can answer. The screen lights up with ten missed calls, all from my mom’s number. I’m about to press her number to call her back but a firm knock on the door interrupts me.
    I push up from the couch now fully awake and aware that something must be wrong. I grasp the door handle, unlock it and swing it open. My dad is standing there with fear plastered across his face. I will never forget that look. It will haunt me for years to come.
    He walks in forcefully and tells me, “Jordan, I need you to sit down.”
    I frown and start to protest but he turns to face me. His expression has turned to pure agony. I rush out breathless, “Is Mom okay? What happened?”
    He repeats more firmly this time placing his hand on my shoulder, “Jordan, sit down.”
    I fall back into the couch bracing myself for the worst. Something must have happened to my mother.
    He walks around the coffee table and sits down next to me cautiously, “Jordan, your mother is fine.”
    I release a deep breath that I didn’t know I was holding.
    He continues, “It’s Susan.” he looks away, “She took some pills.”
    Terror strikes me at his words. Before I can respond and ask if I heard him correctly, he finishes in a rush of breath, “Jordan, she’s gone.”
    Suddenly it’s as if I’m drowning. I feel like I’m about to lose the battle but I want to come up for air. My chest heaves and my heart beats so fast it feels like it will explode. I can’t move or even think.
    He grabs my hand and squeezes, “Son? Jordan?”
    I look at him and what he is saying registers but it seems like he is so far away. Then it all slams into me and I’m gasping. I whisper, “No, she can’t. How? Why?”
    But as what he told me registers, I know somehow that he’s telling the truth.
    Before I can think, my body moves off the couch and I’m heading for the door. As I grab the handle, I feel my dad’s hand on my shoulder pulling me back. I shrug him off and turn abruptly ready to punch something.
    He holds his hands out in front of him, “Jordan, wait a moment. Just come back and sit down, calm down.”
    I take a step toward him and tell him quietly with as much energy as I can muster, “I need to see, Dad. I need to see her.”
    He looks at me with sorrow and nods walking in front of me and opening the door.
    The car is silent on the short ten minute drive to the hospital. Tears run down my cheeks when the realization that I have lost my life hits me. I didn’t help her soon enough. I failed her.
    When we arrive, a fog settles over me. Somehow everyone who speaks to me gets an appropriate response. When we exit the elevators, my mom and Susan’s parents are sitting in the waiting room. My mom gets up in a hurry and runs over to us, taking my face in her hands and hugging me.  Through her tears she repeats over and over again that she is so sorry. As I scan the room, my eyes land on those of her father’s. He is staring at me with a look of complete sorrow as he consoles his wife, Susan’s mom. We both messed up. We didn’t act fast enough and she’s lost to us. I look away and focus on anything except the pain in the pit of my being.
    After a small while, a nurse comes in and asks if I would like to go and see Susan. How do you move your feet in the direction of this kind of good-bye? This is forever. I will never see my Susie Q again. I will never run my hands through her long brown hair or look into those beautiful, chestnut brown eyes. I will never kiss her full lips or caress