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“I do have a bit of bad news,” I said. Her plump lips pressed into a furious flat line. “We’ll be staying where my mother had her treatment. There’s a room, but my father gets the bed when he rests, and my brother and his wife have dibs on the sofa. The waiting room chairs aren’t all that bad—”
“I had a bed,” she shrieked, pummeling my chest. Then abruptly, she stopped. “Wait a minute. You don’t even go home at night?”
“No. It’s the best chance I have to spend time with her.”
Her brow furrowed, her steps slowing. “Isn’t she asleep?”
“Most of the time, but I read to her or just sit with her.”
Sonya’s blank expression unnerved me. At least when she was angry, I knew what she was thinking. “So all of you are staying with her?”
“Yes.”
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” she asked quietly, almost as if she didn’t want to know the answer.
“It is. We’re praying this experimental treatment works. If it doesn’t . . .” I shut that thought down immediately. “The doctors say she may be able to leave in a couple of days.”
“That’s good news.” Sonya stepped in front of me, walking backward a few steps until I came to a stop. She took my other hand in hers. “She’s a fighter. I don’tknowher, but that was easy to see.”
“The toughest lady I know.” My voice cracked, betraying the hard exterior I put up, and I hated the weakness. Sonya pushed up on her toes and brushed her lips against mine, the gesture comforting, easing some of my tension.
“I hope you at least have a blanket for me,” she said, thankfully putting us back on more comfortable ground. Pushing each other’s buttons.
“You should have brought your own. I have one, but I don’t share.”
“Bastard.”
She didn’t complainone time about sleeping in a chair that was only marginally comfortable. I’d made up the part about not having a blanket, but I sweet-talked one of the nurses into giving me one. She liked me so much she threw in a pillow. The biggest thrill I got was when I returned to the waiting room and draped the blanket over Sonya before tucking the pillow between her head and the wall. The stunned expression on her face had me fighting a laugh. She really did think the worst of me and rightly so.
Sometime in the night, I stirred from a light sleep to find us sharing the pillow. The blanket was covering me too. The lobby was dark, though light spilled in from the hall, enough for me to see her face. I hadn’t realized how much stress she carried around when she was awake. Lines of worry relaxed as she peacefully slept. I watched her for a long time, wondering if this was the woman behind all the fictitious layers and if it was possible for this person to ever see the light of day. I wanted to know why my tigress lied to the outside world about everything. Seeing her this way, I believed the person she deceived the most was herself.
I pressed my lips to her forehead and brushed my fingers down her cheek. I should have left her in peace, but I couldn’t help myself. I had to touch her. If this Sonya ever surfaced during the day, I’d be in graver danger than I was now. I liked the bitchy one, but I was drawn to this side of her too. Even though she’d lit into me again before bed about how I’d taken her actual comfortable bed, I found myself looking forward to waking up next to her, and that hadn’t happened since Erin.
Since I was up, I decided to go sit with Mama for a while. I tucked the blanket around Sonya, though I was reluctant to leave her. If I didn’t, I’d repeat the mistakes of the past. I was already headed in that direction as it was.Reverse course! Reverse course!My mind screamed the warning, though I wasn’t sure I was listening.
My mother was asleep when I stepped inside her room. Sam was on the bed beside her. How he’d gotten up there, I didn’t know, but Mama’s hand was resting on his back. It was sometime in the wee hours of the morning, the only time my father would leave her to get some rest. I gently shut the door, taking the seat I always did by her bed. It was selfish to disturb her, and I debated for a moment whether to take her hand in mine. I wanted her to know someone was there for her, that she wasn’t alone.
“I’m awake,” she said, keeping her eyes closed. I threaded our fingers together, and she gave them a little squeeze.
“Did I wake you coming in?”
“No, baby. I’ve just been dozing.”
“Want me to read to you? The book is just getting to the good part.”
“Let’s just sit together.”
Her head rolled toward me, but her eyes remained closed. We were quiet for a long time, me watching as she rested. Seeing her like this tore me to pieces. And it made me angry. I’d known anger and jealousy for years, but this was different.Why her, God?I was the one who had ruined my family’s company. I had felt justified. I was the one who had blackmailed a woman to keep her silent. Again, I had felt as though my actions were perfectly acceptable. But here I was, pleading for God to take this from her. Silently, I begged God to let me trade places with her. This world would be better off without me, but losing her . . . there would never be anyone who could take her place. My mother had done nothing to deserve this suffering. It should have been me. I was the vile, disgusting human being. I had no regard for anyone but myself. I should be the one slowly being eaten from the inside out by the monster. Not her. Not. Her.
“Stop it.” She spoke into the darkness, her voice firm. “I couldn’t stand it if you were here in this bed instead of me.” Had I spoken aloud?
“Mama, I’m the one who deserves this, not you,” I spit out, angry with cancer, angry with God. Angry with everything.
“That’s not how it works. No one deserves this, but it’s a part of life. Would I rather be healthy? Of course. Do I hate this disease? You know I do. But if I dwell on that stuff, the sickness wins. I have to do everything I can not to let that happen.” She opened her eyes as if it took a great strength. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of either. It’s called being human.”
“I don’t have a soul anymore,” I said quietly. “I’m not human.”
“Then what are you doing here with me?” She waited a second, but I didn’t want to answer. “Would you get my purse, please? I believe it’s in the closet.”
