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Paisley
I ALWAYS KNEW I’d be here someday.
For a while I was blind enough to believe it would be years from now.
Part of me hoped that might still be true. That somehow my mother would overcome the cancer eating away at her body and her mind.
I knew it wasn’t possible, but hope does funny things to reality.
“You need to eat.” Andre’s voice is low in my ear as his hand strokes down my hair.
I lean into his touch, letting the warmth of the connection push away some of the sadness I’ll probably carry forever. “I’m not hungry.”
I’ve been sitting on his lap in an uncomfortable hospital recliner for almost three hours, using my mother’s coat as a blanket, watching her chest slowly lift and fall in a countdown that’s moving way too fast.
“She would want you to take care of yourself, dusha moya.”
“Then she can wake up and tell me that.” I don’t want to admit that I’ve probably heard her voice for the last time.
Witnessed her final smile.
Andre hesitates. “Paisley—”
“I know it’s not going to happen.” I’m not delusional. I understand what the doctors have told me.
That doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.
“I’ll go grab us something to snack on.” Madison stands up from her seat on the other side of the ICU bed they transferred my mother to before it became clear there was nothing they could do. She taps Julian on the shoulder. “You want anything specific?”
He shakes his head, eyes carrying a sadness that touches me deeper than he will ever know.
I wanted to prove to the world that my mother was good. That while she might have sold her body to take care of me, to take care of us, that didn’t mean she wasn’t wonderful and loving and deserving of respect.
But I ran out of time.
I thought I failed her.
Failed myself.
Then I saw the faces of the people who came into this room to give her a final goodbye. Watched as they filed through, one after the other, still dressed for the party we were supposed to be having.
She touched their lives for such a short time, but in that time they grew attached.
Fell in love.
Because they all see her the way I do.
Her warmth. Her loving heart. Her gentle nature.
Her goodness.
They might not be the world, but maybe I don’t care what the world thinks anymore.
Victor’s phone starts to ring and he quietly answers it, his eyes lifting my way. “Tamara is on her way back. Do you want her to bring you a change of clothes?”
I glance down at the red velvet dress I’m still wrapped in. It’s beautiful, but not the most practical thing to wear for hours in the hospital while I wait out the inevitable. “That would be nice. Tell her I said thank you.”
But I’m not the only one sitting here wearing their Christmas finest.
