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Sydney’s knee knocks mine as it bounces below the table.
I have no assurances to offer my sister.
I’m not going to tell her it’ll be fine, but I’m expecting it won’t be. That this will break her heart more than it’s already been shattered.
There’s no welcoming smile on our mom’s face as she draws closer. None of our short conversations have given me the impression she wishes our relationship was anything different than what it is.
I conveyed that to Sydney, clearly.
But I know from personal experience that’s different from hearing it straight from the source. And I want to shield my little sister from that pain.
I can’t, though.
She reaches our booth, pausing at the end instead of taking a seat. “Hello, Holden.”
I nod in acknowledgment.
“Your voicemail didn’t mention Sydney was coming.”
“I’m surprised you remember my name,” Sydney says. Her anger is a tangible thing in the air, humming with tension.
“Thirteen hours of labor left an impression.”
“Isthatwhy you left?” Sydney snaps. “Because I took too long to arrive?”
“There were several reasons I left. But no, that wasn’t one of them.”
It’s bizarre, that’s she’s here. That I’m witnessing my mother and my sistertalking. It’s just been me and Sydney for a long time, it’s felt like. Even when my dad was alive, he was often gone. I adjusted to that. I got used to my mom not even being a thought, much less a breathing body standing a foot away.
Sydney leans back, crossing her arms. “Care to share them?”
Our mom looks to me. “I already told Holden. I thought you called me because of the cancer.”
“You have cancer?” I ask. Gasp a little dramatically.
And I think I catch a glimmer of something different on my mom’s face. Amusement, maybe a trace of affection.
She blinks, and it disappears. “Vincent said he told you.”
My gaze flicks to the man sitting at the counter, sipping a cup of coffee and reading the paper. Looking like he hasn’t a care in the world. Acting like this is any old Sunday, and accompanying my mom to a diner to talk to the two kids she abandoned is some normal occurrence for him.
“You two married?” I ask.
“No.”
My mom finally sits down. Maybe she’s just tired from her sickness. But it feels like a tiny step forward. A choice to stay, when all she’s ever done is leave.
“Kids?”
Sydney straightens beside me.
“No.”
Knowing that helps a little. As much as anything could. She didn’t go out and replicate the life she had somewhere else. She truly didn’t want it.
Sydney is saying nothing.
I’m expecting my mom to get up and leave at any second, so I ask the question that’s been bugging me. I know she’s dying. I know it’ll happen soon. But it sucks wondering when that clock will expire. Not knowing when I won’t have a mother in every sense of the word, instead of just most.
