Twelve
I bolted up in bed. My heart was pounding and I couldn’t see anything in the darkness. I was terrified and I didn’t know why. I’d had a nightmare, but it was the kind you can’t remember, you just know you’re afraid. All I could remember was a feeling of falling and feeling as if I was about to die. I turned and looked at the clock. It was only five. I didn’t have to be up for another three hours. I laid back down in my bed, staring up at the ceiling. I could barely see as my eyes adjusted to the dark, but I couldn’t calm myself. I wouldn’t be able to sleep again.
Instead, I grabbed my laptop and headed into the living room. I tried to be quiet. I wasn’t sure if my sister was back from her shift at the hospital and I didn’t want to wake her if she was sleeping. I opened my laptop to boot it up so I could work on a paper. It wasn’t due for another week, but since I was up, I might as well get something done. I started the coffee and then went back to the couch, quickly getting engrossed in the project.
“What’s going on?” My sister’s voice interrupted my concentration. She sounded tired and I knew despite my best efforts, I’d woken her. “What are you doing up? It’s not even five-thirty.”
“I couldn’t sleep. I thought I’d get some work done instead of just lying there.”
“Is everything alright?” Rachel sounded concerned now and she sat down beside me, tucking her legs into a knot as she leaned against the couch.
“Yeah,” I said dismissively, trying to reassure her. “Just a bad dream is all.”
“What about?”
“I don’t remember,” I told her and she looked at me curiously, but didn’t say anything for a few moments. “How’d everything go with the cop?” I could tell she was nervous to ask me, but I found myself smiling when she brought it up, causing Gabe’s face to flash in my mind.
“We had a nice time.”
Rachel raised her eyebrow again, the concern from earlier seeming to lessen.
“You look happy, Sam.” She reached over and took my hand.
“I am,” I told her, still smiling. “It wasn’t anything really. Just a football game. We talked a little. He kissed me on the cheek. He didn’t try anything else.” Rachel was smiling now. A smile of relief and she squeezed my hand. “He’s a nice guy, Rache,” I said and then paused, looking down for a second as the doubt made its way into my mind. “I mean…I think he’s a nice guy. Seems to be anyway.” She knew what I was getting at and I felt her finger on my chin, pushing it up until I was looking at her.
“They’re not all like Tyler.” Her words were soft and I nodded slowly.
“I know,” I said, almost in a whisper. I did know that. I also knew you could never really know someone. I thought I’d known Tyler. I’d thought he was a nice guy too. He wasn’t.
“I’m glad you had a good time with Gabe, even if it turns into nothing. You needed this.” I nodded again and she leaned in, hugging me briefly before pulling back. “I’m heading back to bed. You should too.”
“We’ll see,” I said and then she stood up, walking back to her room, leaving me in the quiet of the living room once more.
~~~
I was just taking dinner out of the oven when I found myself glancing to my phone on the counter. I wondered when Gabe would call. It’d only been a day since the football game. I knew he was busy, but then the doubt started to seep in, a side-effect of my constant self-doubt. Perhaps he hadn’t had the good time I thought we had. It didn’t matter anyway. I didn’t need a guy in my life right now. I just needed to be me.
I’d made a spaghetti pie recipe I’d found on Pinterest. I didn’t cook much, but Rachel had the night off and I only had one class in the morning, so I thought it’d be nice to spend the evening with my sister and binge watch something on Netflix.
She’d gone out shopping and she eyed the casserole dish on the counter curiously when she walked in, setting her bags down.
“You made dinner?” she asked.
“Yeah. I hope that’s okay.”
“That’s great. I’m starving. I’d thought about getting something while I was out, but didn’t. It smells good, whatever it is you made.”
She walked over and looked at the concoction. I had to admit it wasn’t much to look at, but hopefully it tasted alright.
“It’s ready whenever you want to eat.”
“Let me just use the bathroom and wash my hands,” she said and then disappeared down the hallway.
I grabbed two plates and dished up some casserole and salad for each of us. I bypassed our little dining room table and placed the plates on our coffee table instead, turning on the TV and starting up Netflix.
I heard Rachel’s footsteps down the hall and then she was opening a cabinet. She appeared a few moments later, holding out a glass of wine to me.
“I picked this up while I was out,” she said as I took the glass from her.
“This is perfect. Wine, food and binging,” I said with a laugh as Rachel held out her glass to me with a smile. We toasted and then found the show we’d been working our way through.
We both decided the spaghetti pie definitely tasted better than it looked and were both on our second helping when the buzzer went off, letting us know someone was downstairs. Rachel motioned she’d get it and set her plate down before going to the intercom.
“Yes?” she said to whoever it was.
“Hi, honey! It’s Mom!”
My eyes got wide when I heard my mother’s voice. Rachel looked just as shocked as me.
“What the hell is she doing here?” she whispered to me, even though our mom couldn’t hear her.
“I have no idea,” I told her and I really didn’t. It’d been months since I’d spoken to my mother.
“Come on up, Mom,” Rachel said and I could hear the apprehension in her voice as she buzzed our mother up. “You didn’t know she was coming, Sam?” she asked, walking quickly over to me.
“No. I haven’t spoken to Mom in forever.”
“What the hell could she want?” I knew Rachel was annoyed. Our relationship with our mom was rocky at best.
I shrugged my shoulders, but there was a pit in my stomach; the same pit that always formed when I saw my mom. It was a pit bore from pain and disappointment that I didn’t think would ever go away.
We were quiet until we heard her footsteps outside the door and then a faint knock echoed through the apartment. Rachel opened the door and then I heard my mom’s voice.
“Rachel, honey. How are you?” I couldn’t see my mom, but I could see her arms wrapped around my sister.
“Hey, Mom,” Rachel said. I could hear the apprehension in her voice though. Rachel had always been less forgiving of our mother, probably because Rachel had seen more. I was the younger sister she was always trying to protect so even though I’d seen a lot, I knew she’d seen more.
My mom pulled away from Rachel and her eyes met mine. She looked the same as she always had. Small, frail and afraid. She looked much older than her forty-five years. If I didn’t know her, I’d assume she was in her late fifties at least. Her face bore the brunt of the life she’d led. Her blue eyes were dull and her skin was weathered. She had too many wrinkles for someone her age, especially around her mouth, presumably from the pack of cigarettes she smoked almost every day. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, but there were traces of gray in it. She was bundled up in her winter coat that looked to be at least a few years old.
“Samantha, sweetie,” she said from across the room and then after a moment, I stood up from my spot on the couch. She came over to me and then leaned in for a hug. She smelled like cigarettes and mothballs.
“Hey, Mom,” I said softly and then she pulled back to look me over again.
“How’re you feeling, baby?” I hated the pet names she always used with us. Honey. Sweetie. Baby. It was her way of trying to show affection because she didn’t know how else to do it.
“I’m doing better.”
“Do you have any idea what happened yet, sweetheart?” she asked as she sat down on the couch. I sat down beside her and Rachel sat on the chair.
“I still don’t remember. I’m sure I just lost my footing or something,” I said dismissively and I waited for Rachel to jump in about Tyler. She didn’t though. She remained quiet.
“You always were so clumsy,” she said with a laugh, but neither Rachel or I joined in.
“What’re you doing here, Mom?” Rachel said and I could hear the abrasion in her voice. Rachel never was one to beat around the bush, especially when it came to our mother.
“I was in the city and thought I’d stop by to see my girls,” she said.
“Why are you in Boston?” I asked.
“Tim’s seeing a specialist at Mass General. He’ll be busy for a while so I thought I’d stop by while I waited.”
“What kind of specialist?” Rachel asked and then our mother sighed. Her hands were in a tight ball and there were tears in her eyes.
“What’s the matter, Mom?” I asked her and when she looked at me, a tear spilled down her face.
“Tim’s got cancer. Stage four. In the lungs.”
I didn’t know what to say. My eyes met my sister’s and I could tell she was trying to figure out a response as well. I wasn’t surprised. Tim smoked like a chimney. I couldn’t recall ever seeing him without a cigarette. My mom looked devastated and I knew I should reach for her and hold her in my arms as I told her how sorry I was. The truth was though, I felt nothing because Tim was nothing. He was nothing but a man who beat my mother and destroyed our lives. He was nothing but the man she’d always chosen over us. He was a loser who hadn’t done a redeeming thing in his life. Looking at Rachel, I knew she was thinking the same thing.
“What’s the prognosis?” Rachel asked as my mom wiped her eyes.
“They’re not sure yet. Our doctor back home referred us here in hopes they might be able to do more.”
It grew quiet for a few awkward moments, but then I uttered the words I knew I shouldn’t because I didn’t mean them. It was just something you say automatically when someone is hurting.
“I’m sorry,” I said softly and she looked over to me with a grateful smile.
“Thank you, honey,” she said, reaching for my napkin on the coffee table and wiping her cheeks.
“Are you hungry? We’ve got some spaghetti pie left,” I offered and she eyed the plate.
“Thank you. Yes, I would.”
Rachel got up before I could and she pulled a plate from the cupboard, setting it down louder than I expected onto the counter. She reappeared a few seconds later, setting the plate in front of our mother.
“Thank you, baby,” she said, smiling up at Rachel, which she didn’t return. “This is delicious,” she said after the first bite.
“I found it on Pinterest,” I told her.
“You’ll have to get me this recipe. Tim would love it.”
“Sure,” I said and then we went about eating quietly, the show still on pause on the TV.
The loud ringing of her cell phone cut through the awkward silence and my mom dug quickly through her purse until she found it.
“Hello?” she said into it and although I couldn’t hear the words, I knew it was Tim’s voice. “Yes. Yes. I’ll be right there.” The voice on the other end got louder and I could see my mother tensing up. “I’m sorry. Yes. You shouldn’t have to wait. I’ll be right th…” But she didn’t get to finish her sentence before Tim hung up. She looked down at the phone for a second before sliding it back into her purse and then looked up at my sister and I. “I have to get going. Turns out Tim’s tests weren’t as long as I thought they’d be. He’s ready to go home.”
“But, you just got here, Mom. You haven’t even finished eating,” I pointed out, but I knew it didn’t matter. Tim had beckoned and she would go to him, just like she always did.
“I know, sweetie, but you know how Tim can get,” she said, looking apologetically at me.
“Oh, we know,” Rachel mumbled, but if my mom heard the slight, she pretended not to. My mother was perfectly happy living in her world of delusions. She always had been.
“Thank you for the casserole. It was delicious.” She leaned down and gave me a quick hug before going over and doing the same to Rachel before grabbing her purse and walking to do the door. “I love you girls,” she said and then left.
Rachel and I didn’t say anything for a few moments. We just sat in silence, staring down at the half-empty plate.
“That was not what I was expecting tonight,” Rachel finally said.
“Are we supposed to feel sorry for Tim?” I asked and Rachel shook her head.
“I know as a decent human being we’re supposed to, but…but I don’t,” she said, her voice dipping as she said the words.
“I don’t either,” I said quietly and then met my sister’s brown eyes. “He’s not a good person, Rache. He’s an awful person.”
Rachel nodded, but she didn’t say anything. She just left her spot on the chair and picked up her plate from the coffee table and then looked at mine.
“Want me to nuke this for you?” she asked, but I shook my head.
“I’m not all that hungry anymore,” I said and I saw her frown.
“Same here.”
She picked up my plate and then walked them over to the sink. I heard her scrape them off and then put them in the dishwasher. I got up and put the lid on the casserole dish and after putting it in the fridge, I wiped off the countertops. We made our way back to the couch and hit play on the show again. We didn’t say anything else about our mother. Nothing had changed with her and I knew nothing ever would.