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“Did he say anything?”
“He was mumbling something about not understanding women, but I didn’t manage to get anything more from him. Have a hunch it’s got to do with you.”
I stare at my hands, unable to look her in the eyes. “Are you mad at me?”
“Do you love my brother?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation.
“Then I’m not mad at you.” A grin lights up her face. “Let’s go.”
***
Max
“Mother, I’m fine,” I say for the hundredth time, not that it helps. I’m in the hospital bed, and she’s been hovering around me for the past fifteen minutes.
“You’ll be more comfortable if I move this pillow,” she explains. I stop protesting and just let her do her thing, because it seems to bring her some peace of mind.
“Thank you. Is everyone else still outside?” I was given a room to rest in between scans and tests, and when they brought me in here, most of the family was camping inside already. Alice made them all go back out into the hallway and they took turns coming in to see me.
“No. Just Christopher. I sent everyone else home. And Alice went to Emilia’s clinic to let her know what happened.”
“Okay.” I attempt to keep a neutral expression, because otherwise, I’ll practically serve myself on a platter for Mom to question me, but she sees right through me.
“Did anything happen with Emilia?”
For a split second, I actually consider placating her with a nonanswer such as Nothing, but if there is one person I can’t fool, that’s my mother. So instead, I tell her in detail what happened since we went to New Orleans. Mom listens quietly, nodding and cursing Emilia’s bastard of a father, her eyes tearing up when I mention our search for her grandmother.
“Poor Emilia. That’s a lot to go through in twenty-four hours,” she says. Then I fess up about putting my foot in my mouth. Mother’s expression instantly changes, becoming more severe.
“You need to apologize for that. It was the last thing that poor girl needed.”
“I know, Mom. And I did apologize. I just don’t think she heard me. Still, she didn’t have to push me away.”
“My dear boy,” she says gently, sitting at the edge of the bed. “Fear can make us irrational. It’s an emotion, and it can cripple anyone. When your father had that accident last year, I was a mess.”
I remember that night crystal clear. My mother, who always keeps her cool and encourages everyone else, was almost catatonic with fear as we were waiting for Dad to come out of surgery. It was the first time I saw Mom in that vulnerable state, and it scared the shit out of me. Even now, talking about it makes her teary-eyed. Right, time to cheer her up.
“You mean you weren’t a mess when you heard about my accident? I’m offended.”
“Keep upsetting me, and I’ll give you something to be offended about, young man.” Mom smacks my good leg with the back of her palm. “You know, I always hoped you and Emilia would end up together.”
“What do you mean?” I ask quickly.
“You’ve been in love with her since you were nine years old. It was puppy love, but still love.”
“Not true. We were best friends.”
Mom rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “Then why did you scare off all the boys around her?”
“Because they weren’t good enough. One had made a bet with his friends that he’d be Emilia’s first kiss. I heard him. He was lucky all I did was scare him off.”
She offers me that patented smile of hers that says, You know nothing, son of mine.
“Is that what the Johnson boy did too? You scared off that poor boy too, and Emilia was heartbroken because she couldn’t participate in the dance competition.”
“He did want to kiss her, and he was also a lousy dancer. Why would you offer to take a girl to a dance competition if you can’t dance? He would’ve embarrassed her.”
