For a woman who lives to solve mysteries, it wasn’t easy to admit that they got one over on me.
I was still trying to figure out how he and Pita bought rings without me finding out but, neither would spill.
Thick as thieves, those two. When they weren’t co-fixing the Mustang, they were doing other things.
Like Dion helping Pita study, prep for his driver’s test and hone is female game.
With Ember off the market, Pita was currently scouting, ‘new talent.’
And I’m proud to say he had them lining up.
Apparently, young women loved a man in a suit.
When Dion proposed, I found it unbelievably sweet that he needed a little liquid courage to do it. He even gave Pita a few sips too because the kid was tripping over his words while trying to give me a second ring.
A beautiful band with his birthstone in it.
The same band that surrounds my engagement ring.
And I adored the fact that they both called Ember to ask permission to be in my life, forever.
So of course, I said yes.
While Dion and I spent all of our time together, Pita had made friends and was starting his life away from us. Between work, living at Dion’s place, and keeping an eye on the kid, I hadn’t been back to see my mom.
Dion reminded me that the longer I stayed away the harder it would be for me to go back.
I argued that she doesn’t know the difference, that I’m the one that suffers when he covered my mouth with his hand and said, “That is bullshit and you know it.”
He was absolutely right.
And for the last ten minutes, I’ve been standing outside of her door afraid to go in.
Sliding his arms around me, Dion promises, “I’ll be right there with you.”
Nodding my okay, I open the door to find her staring out of the window. From the first mention of assisted living, I wanted my mom to have the best care and view money could buy. Though I couldn’t fix her, I could give her this. I could keep her safe.
“Hello, Miss Marilyn,” I say gently, as always. Only this time, I had the man I love supporting me.
“Hello. Who are you?” And God how beautiful she looked today.
“My name is Mercy, Miss Marilyn.”
“Mercy,” she thinks on it. “Unique, it suits you.”
Facing us, she looks from Dion to me and asks cheerfully, “Did you come to play cards?”
“We did,” Dion says ushering me to the table. Wasting no time, she grabs the deck and begins to shuffle.
“That is quite a talent you have there, Miss Marilyn,” he notices.
“Thank you,” she says dealing our cards perfectly. “My husband and I were quite the poker players.”
Meeting her eyes, I wanted to remind her she was the best poker player I had ever seen. That she was nearly unbeatable and how she always let me find their friend’s missing car keys when it was time to leave. Instead, I said nothing and for the next hour, pretended to play cards when in reality, we only held them.
But watching Dion chat with her, laugh with her and put her at ease was comforting and painful. Because my mom would have adored Dion. Just as I did. Another loss for her.
“Beautiful rings,” she says taking my hand in hers to inspect it.
“Thank you,” I choke out because she doesn’t initiate touch often. And right now, she wasn’t letting me go either. The look of confusion on her face killed me because I couldn’t explain myself without confusing her.
Searching my eyes, she asks, “Who are you?”
“My name is Mercy, Miss Marilyn.”
“Mercy,” she thinks on it, again. “Unique, it suits you.”
And just like that, she went back to dealing while I stared at my hand mourning the loss of her warmth. When she began singing, whoa mercy mercy me… I latched on to Dion’s wrist under the table.
“I like that song too, Miss Marilyn,” Dion smiles lovingly.
As if he hadn’t spoke, she goes on, “Oh things ain’t what they used to be, no no.”
“Fuck,” I whisper in agony.
“Language,” she admonishes.
“I’m sorry, Miss Marilyn.”
“My daughter curses a lot.”
“Your daughter?” Dion asks and I had no chance to warn him that she wasn’t referring to me.
“Look,” she says handing him our photo and pointing to the back. “That’s her, and I’m wearing the beige hat.”
I saw it hit him and his wince. Yeah, I understood the feeling. “She takes after you,” he says gripping my wrist now.
“Flip it over,” she suggests and when he did she says, “Would you look at that. Her name is Mercy, too.”
“Yes ma’am it is,” I agree unable to mask my pain.
“Why you two could be sisters,” she smiles as she raises the frame holding it next to my face.
For my mom, time had no start or no end. She had no routine, nothing to anticipate or worry about. She was the queen of her own kingdom, a kingdom of one. And I loved her so much, I begged whoever was watching over her to allow her to see me one last time.
“Do you want to play cards?” she asks absently shuffling.
Unsure what to do, Dion looks to me and I force out the words, “It’s time for us to go, Miss Marilyn.”
Had it not been for him, I wouldn’t have had the strength to stand and we both knew it.