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I wanted more. As a kid, I never dared to want anything. But I craved her touch, even just a glance from her.
She hustled across the street and didn’t even see the black ice until it was too late. I was out of my car just as she landed hard on the ice, her palms slamming against the cold hard ground. Fuck, it hurt just watching. What was worse was that the bottom of her bag split from the impact, and her books were falling out. They weren’t scattered or ruined, but still. She needed help.
She sat wincing and sucking in a breath between her clenched teeth in the middle of the street. Her jeans were torn, and there was a bad scratch on her one hand.
I felt for her. I wish I could’ve stopped her from falling in the first place, but at least I could help her up.
I didn’t speak as I bent down to help her up off her ass. Picking her up like she was mine, like I was meant to be there for her.
I’ll never forget the look in her eyes. How the sight of me took the breath from her and all of her pain seemed to wash away. There was a spark between us. I know I’m not making that shit up in my memory, 'cause it's stayed with me all these years. A heat burned between us as we locked eyes.
She seemed surprised that I even talked to her. I never talked much. Still don’t. I know I was unapproachable at the time. Ma had just been diagnosed a few months back. I didn’t feel like talking to anyone. I was just doing what I had to do. I was surviving day-to-day. A kid shouldn’t grow up like that. It wasn’t Ma’s fault and I didn’t blame her or anyone else. She never stopped trying.
The trace of a smile from the memory of my sweetheart vanishes from my face as I punch in the code and open the door.
Even though Ma’s home, I keep it locked. She’s probably sleeping anyway. The thought brings me down from the anxious high I’ve been riding on.
It brings me back to reality.
I close the door softly and wait for the faint beep of the security system as I slip off my boots. Bits of ice and snow fall off onto the mat as I set them off to the side and look down the hallway. Ma’s on the first floor, and the light is shining through from beneath the door to her bedroom. She moved into my house a few months ago. With the cancer wearing on her, she couldn’t be alone. I needed to keep an eye on her.
It’s late for her to be up. And lately she’s been more and more exhausted.
It’s why she’s down here now. She’d get so winded from climbing the stairs.
I think about just going up the stairs and crashing, but I can’t.
I walk quietly to her room and knock gently, rapping my knuckles on the door and waiting with my ear almost pressed against it.
“Come on in,” I hear her say, barely loud enough to hear.
The door opens with a faint creak and she tells me, “Leave it open.”
If there’s anyone in this world that I take orders from, it’s Ma.
I do as she says, watching the lines on the screen of the monitors as I walk closer to her. If the sound was on, there’d be a steady beep filling the room.
They’re calling this hospice, which I can’t stand. It’s not the first time they’ve hooked her up for a day or two to monitor her. But I hate it when they call it hospice. She’s making it through this one. Just like the last time. She’s gonna be alright.
I know she is.
She’s not doing too well, but she’s still smiling. She’s never stopped.Smile today without fear of tomorrow. That’s her motto.
“Tell me something new, Derek,” she says as I rub the sleep away from my eyes. I need to get some rest, at this point I’m working on a couple hours at most from last night. And tomorrow I have a long day, too.
For a moment I consider telling her about Emma. She’s the only thing thatnewcomes to mind. The only thing that matters. But as I pull the chair up closer to her bed and take my usual seat, I clear my throat and shrug. I don’t know what I’d tell her about Emma anyway.
“Same ol, same ol.” I answer her and sit back in my seat. My muscles ache as they try to relax against the hard back of the chair. She’s got her reading glasses on and an old romance novel with worn pages closed on her lap, although her finger’s holding her place.
“Did I interrupt your reading?”
Her thin lips pull into a soft smile. “Never, baby. I’ve always got time for you.”
“You find a wife yet?” she asks, slipping the glasses off her face and tapping them against the book impatiently. “You know you’re not getting any younger?”
A rough chuckle vibrates up my chest.
“There’s no woman on this earth who could replace you, Ma.” She rolls her eyes at the hint of sarcasm in my voice.
