Page 75 of Unmatched

My mother says nothing. Which is pretty much like saying everything for a woman who never shuts up.

“How are Celia and the baby?” I try.

She doesn’t take the bait, and I’m about to look for an excuse to end the call because I don’t need whatever judgment she’s stewing on right now. But then she speaks again.

“When your dad...” she starts, then trails off. And now I’m fully alarmed. My father took off when I was four, and we never saw him again. She does not bring him up, not unless she has to. “There were times certain things happened when we were young, and I...I just wished I’d done things differently.”

I don’t know what to say. She has always maintained that their marriage had been perfect up until our dad abandoned us, that he’d left her totally blindsided. I am floored by the sorrow in her voice.

“That was a long time ago, Mom,” I say carefully.

“Yes. It was.” She sniffs like she’s dismissing a bad odor. “I just don’t want you to get to my age and feel the same way.”

I swallow, wondering if the damage has already been done. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Now, I need to chat with your sister.” She returns to her normal, directive tone. “She has this idea that just because her husband is Jewish, my grandson shouldn’t be christened. You really should give her a call, Lydia.”

“I’ll leave you to that,” I say.

“Keep me updated on Sharon,” she says quietly. “I’ll be praying for her.”

“Thank you.”

I end the call and find myself staring at the picture from Celia’s wedding. Anton in his suit, me in my blue dress. A tender thread of regret weaves its way through my gut.

I hate when my mother is right.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

“Hey. Uh, she seems pretty settled. I mean, as much as she can be,” Seth says. “You wanna go grab a burger or something?”

I can tell my brother just wants out of here. I want the hell out of here. But I’m reluctant to leave my chair. I’ve been in Dallas almost a week, and things with Mom have shifted out of crisis mode, but no one will really say what’s next because no one knows. Her vitals remain surprisingly strong, but she still hasn’t woken up at all. The hospital couldn’t keep her, so she’s back in her room at Sunny Cove.

“Yeah, okay. Just give me a minute.”

“Sure, man. I’ll wait in the car.”

He tromps out of the room, and I take my mother’s hand. Like I have every day for the last five days. I know she’ll be fine—as fine as possible under the circumstances. The staff come in regularly to care for her. They feed and toilet her, and they’ve been wonderful. But I’m worried something will change as soon as I go.

“I might have to go back to Denver for a bit,” I whisper to her. “Sethie’s going to be here, but I just have to—” My voice breaks. Return to work? Get back to normal? All the reasons I can think of to leave make me feel like the world’s shittiest son. But it’s worse than that. Because what I’m actually dreading most about going home is facing my own damn problems. “Mom, Lydia and I?—”

Her fingers tighten around mine.

I freeze, staring at her face. Nothing has changed in her expression, but her hand stays firmly closed around mine for at least a minute before finally letting go. I’m not sure what to think of this. It could be a coincidence, just a muscle reflex. Her nurses warned us about that. But my distraught brain convinces me there’s some significance in her reaction to my wife’s name. There has to be.

My mom was so stupid excited when Lydia and I got married. Her own marriage had been cut short after my dad died in a car accident when I was ten, but growing up, she made clear how grateful she was for the brief time they had together. People used to tell us how much she adored our dad, that they were made for one another. She never said she thought the connection between Lydia and me was similar, but it shined in her eyes every time she looked at us.

I never wanted to tell her otherwise.

It feels like we lost my dad a million years ago. I’ve known for a while Mom would slip away too, but for the longest time I thought I’d be okay with Seth, with Lydia, and maybe one day even a child of our own to fill the family-sized void in my heart.

I squeeze Mom’s hand back, then rest it gently on the sheet. “I’ll stop in again to say goodbye before I go.”

My brother and I don’t say much over dinner. We go to some greasy spoon he likes mostly for the beer, and I pick at my burger and fries.

“So, then. When are you thinking of heading out?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” I say. “My boss would probably let me go remote. That way I could be around in case something...”

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