Title: Grief
Summary: Red helps a conflicted Nicky, who struggles to process her myriad phases of grief when she learns her mother has passed away. "Denial and isolation: temporary solutions that would only carry you through the first wave of pain."
Disclaimer: I do not own OITNB or any of its characters. They belong to Jenji Kohen, I do, however, own my writing so please don't steal- Johanna002©
-01-
Hemorrhagic Stroke- An emergency condition in which a ruptured blood vessel causes bleeding inside of the brain. The bleeding will eventually become so excessive that it kills your brain cells.
A solitary tear cascades slowly down Nicky's pale cheeks. She wipes it away quickly, her eyes cast downward as she struggles to process what she's just been told. Her fingers drum against the table; her need for a distraction overwhelming her.
"Nicky," Paloma, her childhood nanny calls out to her softly. "Nicky, oh baby." She struggled to maintain her own composure, "I'm so sorry."
It took all of her strength to remain collected, her face scrunched up tightly in pain. Leaning forward across the table, she roughly tangled one hand in her hair, the other coming to rest under her chin. Her bottom lip trembled and she again shifted, hoping the action would distract her enough to regain her composure, if even for a minute.
Paloma's hand slid swiftly across the table to gently grasp hers in solidarity. She longed to say something, anything that would make it better. However, she was wise enough to know that there was nothing that could be said, nothing that could be done, to ease the pain. She couldn't turn back the hands of time and as much as she wanted to, she couldn't help Nicky through this.
"What's going to happen now?" Nicky asks softly, the sound of her voice distant and tight. How could this be happening to her? She couldn't comprehend it. All of it felt like too much. What was she going to do?
Paloma pushed a stack of papers towards her, her hands trembling as she did so. "They want to remove life support." She paused, waiting for Nicky's eyes to flick back down and focus on hers. "In order to do that, you need to sign a consent form."
"Why me, where the fuck is Paolo?"
She hadn't meant to sound so angry, but she couldn't help it. She was a ticking time bomb. She knows it's not a sensible question. She's well aware of the fact that there was no one else. No grandparents, no aunts or uncles. Fuck, she didn't even have a sibling to pass the buck of too.
"In Brazil," Paloma answered sadly. "This is on you Nicky," she reminded her gently. "You're all she has."
This time Nicky can't help herself; she crumbles, her shoulders shaking as tears, hot and salty fall freely from her eyes. She's hurting in a way she's never hurt before, but she's almost positive her tears are not ones of grief. Hanging her head in shame she struggles to catch her breath, needing to calm herself down.
Marka was gone. Her mother was lying alone in some hospital bed, hooked up to machines that were breathing for her. Nicky's eyes were r and swollen as they quickly scanned the documents Paloma had brought, but everything is such a blur.
"I need some time to think about this." She whispered.
Paloma inclined her head in understanding. "I'll be back on Saturday." They stood to leave and she smiled sadly as Nicky embraced her.
Nicky- her fiery-tempered, wild child. She'd practically raised the girl. Inhaling the scent of hair, which oddly still smelled like strawberry, she couldn't help but drift off in time and recall the many late nights they had stayed up reading Charlotte's Web and drinking chocolate milk.
Her hand ran soothingly up Nicky's back, "It'll be okay, Nicole." She whispered into the mane of curls. "I won't leave her side, okay. I promise."
…
Upon her entering the cafeteria, Red spots Nicky and her wild, untamed tresses immediately. With further observation, she instantly recognizes the faraway look and glassy eyes. Hew own pair of striking blue sapphires searches Nicky's face. She wanted answers to ease the overwhelming concern that began to engulf her.
Swiftly, she glides across the cafeteria with a tray in hand. She sets the food down in front of Nicky and watches intently as a myriad of emotions plays across her features.
"I noticed you didn't get anything to eat." She answers Nicky's unasked question, her Russian accent coating her words in a motherly tone, her eyes obvious with concern.
Nicky exhales softly, mildly annoyed. "I'm not hungry Red, but, thanks anyway." She pushed the tray away, cringing slightly at the knocking sound it made as it came in contact with Vause's.
Her attitude duly noted Red isn't deterred; she won't give up so easily. Four years now she had spent mothering the mouthy soul, taking her good days and her bad days. The tension became more increasingly evident with every passing second, and the way her back began to tingle sent an immediate warning to her brain.
Today was a bad day.
Leaning over, just enough to whisper in Nicky's ear, she offered her comfort. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Ma, no!" Nicky was infuriated- irrationally so. Her outburst was unexpected to the whole of the cafeteria, and Red raised an eyebrow in displeasure. "Please," Nicky begged, "Can you just… leave me alone?"
She regretted her words instantaneously, and she looked into the blue eyes of her mother. Unable to verbally apologize, she prayed her silent apology came across loud and clear. Quickly, Red gave a quick nod of her head, signifying she'd received the message.
"Excuse me," Nicky's voice shook. She dashed out of the cafeteria, once more on the verge of tears, well aware that Red's eyes weren't the only ones piercing into her backside. She wouldn't be caught dead crying in front of an audience.
It seemed to take an eternity, but Nicky had finally reached the bathroom. She rushed into the only stall that had a lock on the door; doubling over in pain, her sobs loud and gut wrenching as she dried heaved into the toilet.
Hiding from the world; blocking out her problems, yes, Nicole Nichols had always been good at that. She'd throw up her walls, recoil inside herself and wallow painfully in her own misery. She didn't want to be a burden. It was easier to shove down her feelings and pretend her problems didn't exist. It would be so fucking easy to pretend nothing was happening, that everything was fine- normal.
But denial and isolation were only temporary solutions that buffered the immediate shock and they would only carry her so far through the first stages of grief.