AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I hadn’t been lying when I said I had to go home and help prepare my mother’s room. I feel that it is something that I can focus on, something that is remotely within my control.
I stay as long as I can at the shop before I decide to head home. My employees appear to have sympathy for my situation, despite having only a slight idea as to what it really is.
“Get home, boss,” one of the young girls says. “Your mom is going to be so excited to see you.”
It lights something in me. An example of an undeniable love is the one my parents share. Not something I have to work for, or puzzle over its existence, like with Aiden.
I climb into my car as the sun sets on the horizon. It spills over the parking lot, casting everything in a semi-artistic light. It cheers me up, finding a slice of beauty in an otherwise horrible day.
I drive on, feeling immensely lighter than when Aiden had come in. I’m not some damsel in distress that needs to be saved by her fake husband when his ex ruins their photos with old, cold coffee.
Still, I admit, I would have liked it if he tried even a bit more. I would have liked it to feel more genuine. It seems silly to admit that, even to myself. Our whole relationship is fake. What did I expect?
I slow down to a halt at a red stoplight. With the window down, I relish the warm air on my skin. For a split second, I am at peace. For a moment, my mind is still, holding tight onto the joy of my mother’s return.
Then, a doubt slips into my brain. What will my mother think of the situation I have found myself in?
“Shit,” I whisper to myself.
The green light glows, and some impatient person behind me honks. I jolt back into the present and press on the gas, my mind drifting off once again.
I had been afraid to tell my father about my deal with Aiden. He had been understanding in the end, of course. But my fear of his judgment was a very real reason I kept it to myself as long as I could.
I love my mother, but somehow I doubted she would be as patient about the whole thing as my father. My father had been willing to leave it alone, thinking of it as a decision only I could make for myself. He never quite came out and said it was right or wrong, just warned me to not get carried away.
My mother probably had no idea any of this had happened. I certainly hadn’t told her. Had my father?
She had been detached from most of the current events, off at the hospital. But the surgery had gone swimmingly.Now that she’s returning home, there’s no way she won’t catch on. She is a smart woman. She must have questions as to how on earth we could afford such a procedure.
I am probably going to have to tell her everything right off the bat. The thought fills me with dread.
I pull into the driveway, the diminishing light winking off the windshield. I turn off the engine and sit in silence for a moment. In that short window of time, I find serenity. Brief and wonderful serenity.
My mother loves me, I know that for sure. But she also knows me well. This means she will recognize the awkwardness of my deal with Aiden.
The awkwardness of the growing affection I have for him, every time he walks into the room. He is a masterpiece in the gallery of my mind.
I climb out of the car, glad that my father will not be home later. He wants to spend as much time with my mother as possible before she is set to come home tomorrow. I told him I would do the room, so he had nothing to worry about.
I open the front door of the only home I have ever known. I feel the echo of the memories as I walk past the living room, the kitchen, my childhood and current bedroom, my parents' shared bedroom, and finally, the room that will soon be my mother’s.
There are hopes that she will recover in her condition. There is always a likelihood that it could return and whisk her away from us. But I will not let myself think that far ahead.
Aiden helped us order a hospital bed, which arrived the day before. The workers had put it together for us, which was helpful. My mother will likely hate the sight of it; it will only make her think of the sickness and the hospital.
So I am going to brighten up the room with fairy lights, photographs of pleasant times, and bedsheets that make her laugh. Anything to make it feel homey and less sterile, anything to bring a little cheer to the space.
There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for my parents, and I know that there isn't anything they wouldn’t do for me. I think about this as I start the laundry on the new bedsheets, place photos into frames and look into the fridge to start dinner. My father will be home late, and will likely not have the energy for cooking.
Love is strange, isn’t it? It’s a lot like finding yourself on the outside, someone you have to pry into sometimes. But we try to find the balance because we love each other. That is why I do this for my parents. It would be the same way I would love Aiden, given that there was a chance for that real feeling.
I sit on the side of my mother’s bed. It is propped up so she can watch TV or talk to us without having to get up. I try not to let my thoughts get dark and dreary. There is much light to come.
“We’ll get through this,” I whisper.
36
AIDEN
