MY FEET ACHED from a full day of work. I wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and catch up on the sleep I hadn’t received because of Bryce, but I made a promise to my mother and I wasn’t about breaking it.
She’d sounded really good over the phone this afternoon, only requesting something other than hospital food for tonight’s meal. As exhausted as I was, I happily made a stop for takeout on the way to see her. It was the least I could do. I missed her warm, cheery presence at home and looked forward to spending quality time together. Not that dining beside her hospital bed could be considered quality, but I’d take what I could get if it meant seeing her face.
Yawning, I clutched the paper bag that held Mom’s favorite French onion soup and a turkey club and pressed the elevator button. The tempting aroma of crisp bacon from my BLT caused my stomach to growl with hunger pangs. I hadn’t eaten since noon time when I quickly scarfed down a granola bar during the afternoon rush. Thursdays were always busy with the old biddies in town getting their hair-dos in for the weekend, but today it seemed as though I washed over a hundred heads of hair, a never ending flow of shampoo, rinse, and repeat.
By the time the elevator doors pinged open to Mom’s floor, I was clenching my eyes shut to wish away the images of my fingers massaging countless scalps. I exited the empty car and was greeted by a friendly smile from one of the residents who worked with Bryce on my mother’s case.
“She’s been waiting for you,” she sang with a sideways grin.
“I know. I ran a little late. Terrible daughter.”
“Psssh.” She flapped her hand. “You’re wonderful. You’d be surprised how many kids leave their parents here to rot. I wish my mom was still around; I think that’s why I’ve taken such a liking to Ella. She reminds me of her.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I offered, empathizing with her. Doctor Bronson was about the same age as me, so I imagined her mother passed well before her time. I hated to think that would eventually be me. Ever since Mom was diagnosed, it seemed as if her time on this Earth was that much more precious, vulnerable. I couldn’t picture losing her, but it was naïve to think she was invincible.
“Thank you. Now, go on.” She pointed to the bag of food in my hands. “You don’t want to keep Ella waiting any longer. I’m certain you’re the highlight of her day.” With that she winked and I smiled in return.
It was comforting to know my mother was in good hands. Between the nursing staff, the residents on his team and Bryce, of course, I was confident she was receiving the absolute best care possible. Now, if only my brother would get back to me about being tested as a donor. I made a mental note to check my email and try contacting him again as I walked past the nurses’ station and approached Mom’s room.
“There you are,” she bellowed before I even put one foot over the threshold.
“Sorry I’m so late. Work was a nightmare and I’m freaking exhausted.” My muscles were sore and weary, fighting every motion, no matter how small. It was no doubt a combination of working my ass off at the salon and having the rest of my body worked out by Bryce last night.
I hid the wicked smile that curled my lips as I rolled the food tray over from the corner and placed the bag on it. Uncrumpling it, I neatly arranged our meal before us, pouring two cups of water with a dramatic sigh.
“You feeling okay, baby? You didn’t have to come tonight. I know you’re busy and I hate being a burden.” Mom’s forlorn expression dug at my gut. I should have walked in here all smiles and ‘Hey, Ma! Good to see you!’ Instead, I’d dragged my feet and huffed and puffed since entering the room. My mother was battling a disease and I was pissy over losing a few hours of sleep—for incredible sex. Get your scruples in check, missy!
I pondered what Doctor Bronson said about missing her own mother and how some children took theirs for granted. I would never be that daughter. Especially since my brother wasn’t offering any compassion her way.
“You’re not a burden. Don’t ever think that, okay?” I pushed the tray closer to her, removing the lid from the still-piping-hot soup and handing her a plastic spoon.
She took it from me, but her hand stilled as her eyes scanned my face. “I don’t like how you look, London. You’re running yourself ragged.”
Of course she was right, but she didn’t need to know that. Somehow, I imagined that after my amazing night with Bryce, everything would change. My worries about my mother would magically vanish the same way my heartbreak over Hunter was dwindling to a dull, distant ache.
I was certain Bryce was capable of miracles, but he wasn’t God.
I reminded myself of that as I sat in the recliner and unwrapped my BLT. Before I took a bite, I had to put this conversation to rest and reassure my mother that everything was fine. “Mom, if you must know, I’m not tired because of you or work or running ragged. I got very little sleep last night because our beloved Doctor Owen kept me up way past my bedtime.”
Mom dropped the spoon, and her jaw. I ignored her shock by taking a long awaited bite of my sandwich.
“London Paige, you let a man spend the night in my home?”
“I sure did.” Chewing the crunchy mouthful, I nodded flippantly.
“That’s my girl!” Mom slapped her blanket-clad thigh with a boisterous laugh. “But I can’t believe you went all day without telling me!”
“Eat.” I swallowed and spoke. “And if you finish it all like a good girl, I’ll fill you in.”
“Nonsense!” Her eyes widened, a glow that had been missing since she was admitted into the hospital returning to her cheeks. “I want to hear all about it, and leave no stone unturned.” She retrieved the spoon from where it had fallen into her lap and dug into the layer of melted cheese that covered the soup.
“Ma, I love you, but there is no way I’m rehashing, detail for detail.” My cheeks warmed at the thought. There were certain things—naughty things—a mother should not envision her daughter doing.
“Oh, that spicy, huh?” She giggled.
“Mom, please.” I shook my head and stifled my own laughter. “Can we not?” My mother and I had a very open relationship, but there was no way in high holy hell I was going to tell her all the things Bryce and I did to each other last night. Those scintillating memories were for me alone, to cherish and replay the way I had all day long.
“Come on!” She pouted. “Give a dying woman a reason to smile.”
Although I was sure it was in jest, her statement and the way in which it eased off her tongue as if it had been waiting to be said, jarred me something awful.
“Oh my God, Mom!” I dropped my hands into my lap, sandwich and all. “You’re not dying! Don’t ever say that again! You lose hope, we all lose hope. And you’re the queen of hope, for Christ’s sake.” I jumped up from my seat and abandoned the BLT. My appetite was gone. Hearing her talk like this was so unnatural, so out of the blue, I had to think the worst. Had she or Bryce failed to tell me something since we last spoke?
I grabbed my purse and frantically started for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To find your nurse. To call Bryce. To see if Memphis has finally checked his goddamn email.”
“Now? Why?”
“Because . . . there’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?” I stopped mid-stride to turn and face her.
“Of course not, London. What would make you think that?”
I marched to her side, kneading my hands together in frenzied knots. What happened when the most devout optimist lost hope? I couldn’t even fathom the outcome. It seemed catastrophic. It crushed me to imagine that my mother’s infallible hope was fading. Even if she meant nothing by it, she still said it. She released it unto the universe and that scared the shit out of me.
“Never once since the start of this have you ever said anything about death or dying. I know things have taken a turn, but Bryce—hell, everyone we know—is doing whatever they can to make sure you stay healthy and get this transplant as soon as humanly possible. Even Sam offered to be tested as a donor!” My hand flew to my mouth as soon as the words were set free. I’d held off from telling her about Sam because I still wasn’t sure whether I would take him up on it. I instantly regretted my outburst.
“He did?” Her eyes watered with unshed tears, her bottom lip trembling.
I rushed over and sat on the bed, taking her hands in mine. “Please don’t cry.”
“How can I not?” She pulled out of my grasp and fanned her face in futile effort to prevent the waterworks from coming. “Why didn’t you tell me? He’s not a match either; that’s it, right?”
“No, no, it’s nothing like that.” I reached forward to caresses her cheek. My fingertips were rough from a day’s worth of hair washing but her barely wrinkled skin was soft and supple to the touch. How could I explain without giving her too much to stew over? If she knew the way my brain reeled on a daily basis, she’d worry herself sick. For me. Because that was my mom, always putting me and my brother first. I had to word this properly. I had to channel my inner Bryce. “I didn’t tell you because we don’t want to jump the gun. Bryce wants Memphis to get tested first. He said blood relatives are the best match. There’s no reason to put Sam through the trouble once Memphis pulls through.”
“Have you heard from him yet?”
I silently shook my head. I had to bite back the impatient anger I felt toward my brother. He was one of those kids Doctor Bronson was talking about earlier. The ones who took their mothers for granted. I didn’t rely on his help or support but, right now, our mother did. He knew she wasn’t doing well, and yet he failed to even check in on a regular basis. The more I thought about it the more furious I became.
“Don’t be mad, London. You know how he is.”
“Yeah, selfish.”
“He’s not selfish, he’s—”
“Careless. Ignorant. Absent!” I threw my hands up and paced the room. I couldn’t help being pissed. He was my only sibling, Mom’s only son. Where was his loyalty? Why was he ignoring us?
“When was the last time he called, Mom? Name one instance when he took the time to see if we need anything. Do you know he hasn’t mentioned Hunter since January? January! Memphis was the best man at our damn wedding and he hasn’t had the decency to ask me one single question about why he left or how I feel!” I took a deep breath and exhaled through gritted teeth. I hadn’t realized how much I resented him until that very moment.
But one look in her direction and I could tell I was upsetting my mother. Shit! The tantrum had to stop here. It was pointless anyway. I couldn’t make Memphis email me back and I couldn’t guarantee he’d be a match. I could only apologize for making this about my issues with my brother when it had nothing to do with the reason I brought his name up in the first place.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I shouldn’t have made this about me. You need him now and that’s why I’m angry. I didn’t mean to go off on a tangent. I’m just a little . . . overwhelmed.” I hated to admit that aloud to her. She was the last person I should be confessing that to. I really was a terrible daughter. Doctor Bronson had no idea what she was talking about.
“Baby girl, come here.” Mom curled her index finger and beckoned me to her side.
I did as told, feeling horribly selfish because I was in desperate need of my mother’s comfort. I should’ve been putting her at ease. Maybe I was just as selfish as Memphis. Maybe I was worse. But I rested my head against her frail chest, basking in the way the beat of her loving heart filled my ears and seeped into the empty parts of me that most needed its sweet song.
“I’m so sorry.” It was a meek attempt, a flimsy whisper.
“Don’t be.” She patted my head. “This isn’t anyone’s fault, nor is it anyone’s responsibility. I’ll be okay. I can feel it. We hit a bump but it’s not a mountain. Shit happens, London, but we can’t allow it to define us. Right?”
I recalled a similar conversation after my breakup with Hunter. All those months ago, her logic sounded ridiculous, so far out of reach the words were almost foreign. But she’d been right. I met Bryce. I found some semblance of happiness again. I managed to not let losing Hunter define the rest of my life.
“Right as always.” I smiled and lifted my head to meet her eyes. “So, what do we do now?”
Long, lanky fingers reached out to swipe at my tears. She inhaled through her nose, fast and loud, and then sat up tall. “We wait. We pray. We don’t lose hope.”
I knew she was right, yet again, but I wondered how someone in her position could still hold true to her faith. It had been tested so many times, yet she still believed. I was in complete awe of her resilience.
Bending forward, I kissed her softly, right on the mouth, like we had countless times when I was a little girl. I couldn’t remember the last time I did that and it stung to consider maybe it hurt her when I stopped.
The long-forgotten gesture made her giggle and a smile erased any worry from her face as she pressed her head into the pillow behind her.
I stood and plumped the crappy excuse for a cushion, then repositioned the food tray in front of her so she could resume eating the remainder of her dinner. When I settled back into the recliner to finish my own sandwich, I caught Mom glaring at me with a playful grin.
“What?” I wiped away a blob of mayo that had dripped out of the BLT and onto my lips.
With that glimmer of unrelenting hope and optimism ever-present in her big blue eyes, she tilted her head and brought her hands together in prayer. “Can I at least get the PG version of your date with Bryce?”