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“I know you’ve had your hands full.” I clear my throat. “I want Ma to meet my wife.”
Da studies Katya, surely remembering how I punched a hole in the wall when he told me I couldn’t go to seminary. Then I swore I’d never get married to spite him, knowing he wanted another generation of O’Rourkes. Now here I am, parading a wife around. Happily. Willingly.
When Da’s eyes turn down, wisely choosing not to argue further, I step forward. “How is Ma?”
“Not good.”
I lean into Katya and whisper in her ear. “This is why you haven’t met my mother.”
She blushes. “I’m sorry. I had no idea. What can I do?”
I kiss her hand, amazed at how giving she is. “Nothing, angel. Just…love me. Let my ma see that I’m loved.” I assume she cares about that.
“I do love him.” Katya speaks up, hugging me. “And I’m so sorry for Mrs. O’Rourke.”
The way she holds me must put a look on my face Da’s never seen. My father’s expression changes immediately. Like what we feel is so obvious, it’s undeniable.
“You call her Clara or Ma,” Da demands.
“Thank you.” Katya lowers her eyes. “I’d like that.”
“Can we see her?” I ask.
“The nurse is cleaning her up,” Da says, running a hand through his graying hair.
God, he looks like shit.
After a few minutes, we walk through the living room and down a hallway into the master bedroom. I hide my gasp seeing Ma look so frail.
“We think the stress of Riordan being in that coma triggered a stroke,” Da whispers.
I remember those days, how she struggled with her cane and eventually used a wheelchair. MS is a slow killer.
“Lachlan,” Ma calls out to me in a weak voice, reaching for my hand.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been here. I’ve been busy.” I step toward her, judging how comfortable Katya is being close to someone who looks that sick. There’s not an ounce of resistance. She’s right there with me. “Ma, this is my wife, Katriane. I’m sorry you haven’t had a chance to meet her yet.”
Ma’s lips form a smile. “Hello, Katriane, I’m sorry I can’t offer you a cup of tea, or make you a nice meal like a good mother-in-law.”
“I’m only sorry we haven’t met sooner.” Katya immediately studies Ma’s body.
“We met before,” Ma says. “Briefly. You were at the swim club with your sister.”
“Right.” Katya turns to the nurse. “Have her muscles atrophied?”
“We’re trying to prevent that, Mrs.,” the nurse responds.
“I hate that physical therapist,” Ma mumbles.
“I can help.” Katya smiles at me. “I have another month off until school starts again. I understand muscles and tricks to keeping them strong.”
Shite, she’s positive she won’t get the conservatory spot. But she doesn’t sound upset. She loves me and wants to stay with me. Now wants to help my ma.
“Can I massage your legs?” she asks my mother.
“Sure.” Ma sits up.
Katya and the nurse hover over my mother, and my father pulls me out of the room.
