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“You know you like them too,” my mother teases her back.
I have to laugh. “Ma, you know Emma doesn’t read those books. She’s too busy with school. She only has time to read books about ethics and stuff like that.”
Emma’s head whips around to me. “How do you know what I read?”
I look up at her with my brow furrowed. “I look at your books.” Of course I know what she reads. I wanted to know what she was up to. I wanted to know what she spends all her time doing. Not that I’m interested in reading that kind of shit, but I’m interested in what she’s interested in.
Ma pipes up, “I read an article that said women who readthesekinds of books are smarter than the average woman.” Emma huffs a small laugh with a sweet smile on her lips.
Ma looks straight at me. “I know your girl is smart, Derek. That’s why I gave her a few of my favorites.” Emma and Ma laugh, but I can’t join in. I find myself just staring at Ma. It’s a rare day when happiness is so evident on her face. She’s showing it today. Like nothing’s wrong with her other than the weight loss. Emma brings this out in her. I don’t understand why Ma doesn’t fight harder. She’s been so happy, the happiest I can ever remember her being ever since Emma walked through that door. My chest pangs with sadness and guilt.
Maybe if I’d never let Emma walk away in the first place back then, maybe that would’ve made a difference.
I couldn’t give Ma the happiness she needed while I was building this business and providing for her. But it’s here now. Why has she given up now?
“I may have already read one. It only took me a few hours.” Ma laughs and smacks her thigh at Emma’s confession. The two of them go back and forth for a little while. I’m used to this now. They hit it off. Usually they’re making fun of me. Until today, I enjoyed it. I looked forward to it, even.
But as I sit here watching the two of them, I can’t even focus on what they’re saying. It’s like I'm watching in slow motion. All the sounds are muffled. I don’t know what they’re saying, but I know the way I feel. I know the way they’re making each other feel.
That’s what matters at the end of the day. That’s what memories are really made of. Emotions.
I wish I had a camera now, not because I want to remember Ma looking like this. I don’t. But I want to remember how happy she is right now.
“You all right?” It takes me a moment to realize Emma’s question is directed at me.
I clear my throat. “Yeah, I think I just need some coffee. I’ve had a headache all day,” I lie. I promised her that I wouldn’t lie to her. I promised myself too, but in this moment, I need to do it.
“Time for you two to head out. You don’t need me.” Ma picks her book back up and says, “I’m just an old lady over here with her dirty books.” She smiles. Although Ma is making it sound funny, just joking around like she usually does, it hurts me to hear her say that.
“I need ya, Ma.” That’s all I can say before I gently push Emma off my lap. She stands up easily, although she looks back at me with concern. As soon as her feet hit the ground, I’m up and out of the room. I can hear Emma as she follows me out of the room and down the hall. I feel like a little bitch as tears well up in my eyes, but I push them away. I’m not gonna cry. I’m gonna figure this out. There has to be a way. I go straight to the liquor cabinet in the kitchen. I need to chill the fuck out right now. Emma grabs my arm as the door to the whiskey flies open.
“Derek, what the hell’s wrong?” Emma’s eyes look straight into mine, pleading with me and flashing with worry. It makes me sick. All I’ve done is brought worry into her life. That’s all I’m good for.
“Tell me!” she yells at me.
I can’t lie to her even though I want to. I don’t want to admit what my mother asked. Mostly because I don’t want Emma’s opinion. I swear to God if she says the same thing that Tony says, I’m not sure I'll be able to forgive her. For some reason, Tony gets away with it. Maybe because I know how much he loves her. But with Emma, it would break my heart if she told me to give in to what Ma wants. I don’t think I could forgive her.
“She’s not doing good.” That’s all I can get out now. The other words won’t come. I’m all choked up. I move a couple steps over, ignoring the look on her face, ignoring the pleading of her eyes to tell her what’s going on.
“Is she not responding to the new treatment?” Emma asks. Her and Ma talk a little about the treatments, but it’s just small talk.
Emma doesn’t know the details. She doesn’t even know that Ma’s technically on hospice. The doctors are just waiting for her to die. I had to keep fighting for this. I had to keep getting the medicine for her. I’m trying not to give up hope even when she does. I’m trying not to anyway, just desperately trying to hold on. But in the last few days, hope has been slipping away.
“It’s not that,” I say as I pour the whiskey into the short glass. If Emma wasn’t here, I wouldn’t even bother with it. I’d be drinking straight from the bottle.
“What is it?” she asks me. Her voice is so small, it’s full of fear.
“I don’t know what to do.” I give her that much, but I can’t tell her exactly what I’m talking about. I can’t give that to her. I’m afraid that the more I give her, the more she'll see me and the reality of my life. The more she’ll realize that she shouldn’t be with me.
“You’re smart, Sweetheart,” I say and take a sip of my whiskey before looking at her. She’s gripping the granite countertop tightly, looking at me like she’s barely holding on for dear life. “Tell me what to do.”
“You’re smart, too,” she says softly. She takes a small step closer to me, her hands rubbing soothing circles on my back. I know she means it to be comforting, but all I want to do is push her away right now. I don’t want to be comforted. I realize I don’t even want a distraction as I take another sip of the burning whiskey. I slam the glass down on the counter and almost shove her back, but I don’t. I can’t take this shit anymore.
But I can’t risk losing her and having no one. Even though that’s what I deserve.
“I can’t figure out what to do,” I tell Emma. “There’s no way to win.”
“Sometimes it’s not up to you.” Emma stares straight at me as she says the words.
