Brinley tiptoed up to her side, put the back of her hand on her forehead like her temperature was going to make any difference.
“How are you feeling?”
Her mother forced an ashen smile, her lips a cold, weathered gray. Her head that once had boasted the same brunette curls as Brinley’s was now bald, her body wilting away beneath a green striped bedspread.
“It’s not so bad today.”
Brinley knew it was a lie. It was always bad.
“Is there anything I can do?” Brinley would give anything to take it away.
Her mother reached for her hand and twined her spindly fingers with Brinley’s. “You do more than enough. I hate that this burden has fallen on you.”
Fighting the burn at the back of her eyes, Brinley ferociously shook her head. “It’s not a burden. I don’t want you to worry about anything. We have it under control.”
Her mom unwound her hand and softly touched her cheek with her fingertips. “You’re sixteen. You should be running free and wild, not looking after me and your brother.”
“I wouldn’t want to be doing anything else.”
Her mother’s smile was tweaked in sadness. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I tried so hard.”
Grief clotted Brinley’s throat, and she gathered her mother’s hand back up in hers, her words rushed, “Please don’t apologize. It’s fine. It’s going to be fine. I promise.”
“You’ll take good care of him?” Pain broke from her mother’s tongue.
Brinley wanted to drop to her knees at the side of her bed, throw herself over her and weep, but she forced herself to nod. “You know that I will. I promise.”
Her mother nodded, and a tear slid free. “My sweet girl. So beautiful. So selfless. I want you to promise me that you’ll take care of you, too. Use those math skills to their fullest.” For one flash of a second, her mother’s yellowed eyes twinkled. “Become a doctor or an astronaut.”
“I’m scared of blood and of flying.” Brinley stumbled over the tease.
“Okay, fine, an accountant.”
Brinley’s eyes squeezed tight for a beat. “I will, Mom.”
“I love you so much.”
“I love you more than you know,” Brinley choked.
“I think I need to rest,” her mother said, and Brinley nodded, touched her forehead again before she crept back out.
Her footsteps laden with the weight.
Dereck was in the kitchen, peering through the pantry door.
“I need to leave for work,” she told him. “I need you to make sure you have your homework done and your room cleaned before I get home.”
“What’s for dinner?” he asked.
She went to the fridge, cringed when she opened it up and there was an inch of milk at the bottom of the gallon. A couple of apples. Ham and cheese.
“You’re going to have to have a ham sandwich until I can get to the store after I get paid tomorrow.”
“I hate ham sandwiches,” Dereck groaned.
“I know, Dere, I know. I’ll figure out something better soon.”
She slung her arm around his shoulder and kissed his temple before she headed for the door, slipping into her shoes and grabbing her bag before she stepped out and locked the door behind her.
