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‘How you doing, kiddo?’ Mam says, when I wake up after yet another nap. ‘That was a long visit. You seem exhausted.’
‘Yeah,’ I say, honestly. ‘But it was a really good day, wasn’t it?’
Mam nods. ‘It was nice.’
‘Are you going to talk to Doctor Patterson?’
‘Of course.’
‘I mean about the kiss and not medical stuff.’
‘I know exactly what you mean, Kayla.’ Mam raises her eyebrows and I can tell she’s about to launch into an excuse or a speech when her phone vibrates in her bag, distracting her. The beeping is relentless as message after message bombards her phone. I hold my breath as she reaches in, rummages around and finally drags it out.
‘Oh,’ she says, surprised as she stares at the screen. ‘I’ve a tonne of messages from Aiden. I hope the train hasn’t been cancelled or something. How on earth will he get home?’
I throw the covers back and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. Trying to hurry and not hurt myself in the process is really tricky, but I don’t want to be here when Mam reads Aiden’s messages about me stopping treatment.
‘I need to pee,’ I lie, looking for the only reasonable excuse I can find to leave the room so suddenly.
‘Here, let me help,’ Mam says, popping her phone down on the chair behind her as she stands up.
‘No, no. I’ve got this,’ I say, reaching for the single crutch next to my headboard. Mam continues to stand in front of me, blocking my path, trying to help. ‘Mam.’ I wince, pain shooting through my entire body as I finally stand, crutch in one hand, weird coat-stand-on-wheels drip-holder-thingy in the other. ‘I really, really want to pee by myself. Really. I do.’
‘Okay,’ Mam says. ‘But don’t lock the door. Okay?’
‘Yeah.’ I choke back tears of agony. ‘Sure.’
I hobble towards the tiny en suite, close the door behind me and flop onto the loo. I pee. Not because I need to, but since I’m here I might as well make use of the opportunity, so I don’t have to go through this hell again later.
It’s hard to leave the tiny bathroom knowing Mam is reading – some possibly very long – messages from Aiden. And she’s been reading themwhile I hide in here. The longer I leave it the more time she has to stew over everything he’s saying. I hope he kept to the script and didn’t add in any bits that we didn’t talk about. He was supposed to wait until tonight to text her. I wanted her to have at least a few hours to think everything over and then we could talk about it all in the morning. But now we’re going to have to talk about it tonight. And I’m not ready. And suddenly I feel this might all be a very bad idea.
I flush and give myself a mental high five for standing unaided as I wash my hands. I grab my crutch and finally open the door and hobble back into my room.
It is painfully quiet. The only sound is the loo guzzling in water after a flush and I wish I’d closed the bathroom door behind me. Mam is still sitting in the same chair as when I left but her back is bent and her arms are folded on the edge of the bed with her head resting on top. Her shoulders are shuffling, and I realise she’s crying silently.
Mam doesn’t move as I brush past her. I rest my crutch in the usual spot next to the headboard and climb onto the bed. Mam lifts her head and I can’t miss the mascara streaking down her cheeks as I try to get in under the sheets. Mam helps me and I note we’re getting better at making it seem like much less effort than it actually is.
Mam sits back down and stares at the floor. She can’t even look at me.Oh God. Why did Aiden have to text so soon?
‘C’mere,’ I say, our roles weirdly reversed as I pat my legs and Mam’s head settles onto my lap. She’s so careful not to touch my knee and I know she’s paranoid about hurting me and won’t relax fully. ‘Mam, don’t cry, please,’ I say as I stroke her hair the way she used to stroke mine when I was a little girl. ‘I’ve made my decision. Please try to understand.’
Mam sniffles and finally sits up. My legs are instantly cold when her head isn’t in my lap and I pull the blanket over me.
Mam shakes her head while rubbing her eyes with her finger tips. ‘Kayla, no,’ she says. ‘I can’t let you do this.’
‘I’m not asking for your permission, Mam.’ I swallow, hating how dry my mouth feels and my lips sting where they’re all dry and cracking from the hospital aircon; no amount of lip balm can sort them out. ‘I’m telling you what I want.’
‘You’re fifteen years old, Kayla. You don’t get to make this decision. I do.’ Mam slaps her fingers against her chest so roughly I wonder if she hurts herself. ‘I’mthe adult here.I’mthe parent.’
Mam’s words are clipped, and her voice is so angry. I didn’t even know she could sound so cross. And maybe if you didn’t know her as well as I do you might even believe she’s furious. But, I don’t believe it. Not for a second. Her scrunched-up forehead and gritted teeth can’t hide her sadness. And it breaks my heart.
‘If this is your way of trying to force me to talk to Doctor Patterson, Kayla. It’s not cool. Not cool at all.’
‘Mam, c’mon. Please.’
‘Sorry. Sorry, I know you wouldn’t do that,’ she says. ‘But Jesus, Kayla. You can’t just stop treatment all together. Don’t you know what that means?’
‘Yes,’ I say, worrying about how pale she’s suddenly become. ‘I do.’
