Page 39 of Meet Me in the Blue

She wiped her hands on a dish towel and leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, the soft locks of her salt-and-pepper hair tickling my face. The feeling was as familiar as the scent of her perfume. Coco Chanel.

“Chicken noodle soup. I’ve made some for your father, but there’s plenty. Grab yourself a bowl.”

“Thanks.” I grabbed two bowls from the cabinet and dished myself and my dad some soup. “I’ll sit with him if you still want to go to lunch with Nat.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, toying with the sleeve of her pastel flannel shirt sleeve. “You’ve got work to do.”

“I need a break.” I set both bowls onto the tray Mom set out earlier and opened the loaf of bread sitting on the counter. “And Dad is always sleeping, it will be good to have some awake time with him.”

“The nurse will stop by at two, will you have time to—”

“I have time for him,” I said, and she gave my arm a gentle squeeze. “I can handle it.”

She took the butter knife out of the drawer and tapped my hip with the dull blade. “Let me do this.”

“Mom.”

“What? I can butter bread.” She briskly dragged the knife across the bread, smearing the butter into hectic little waves.

“Mom?”

“I can do it,” she said, her voice wavering, spilling over into the deep creases around her eyes and mouth as she fought back her emotion. “I can do it, damn it.”

I reached for her wrist, and she dropped the bread and knife onto the plate. I pulled her into a crushing hug, and she shook in my arms as she cried. Her tears weren’t silent like I was used to. They were loud and big and ugly. Unrestrained, breaking through the solid bone of her chest. It was overdue. Ever since I’d come home from California, all her threads had started to fray like that favorite blanket of hers with loops of yarn sticking out every which way. The worry she’d tried to conceal became more evident as each day passed, and the control she’d held onto with all her might had finally slipped.

“Mom… you can take a break, too, it’s okay to step away. You can’t take on everything, you can’t wrap yourself up so tight.” She leaned back and wiped the tears from my cheeks. “Stop trying to take care of everyone else and take care of you.”

“What if I leave and…”

“It could happen…” That set off another river of tears. I dipped down to her height and made her look me in the eyes. “But he would never want you to be a prisoner in your own home,” I whispered the last part, hugging her to my chest again.

I ignored the guilt I had for allowing this to happen, for allowing my mom and my sister to take on everything. This wasn’t about my guilt or what I did and didn’t do. I had to be here, be present, and let my mom know she was safe to take a breath. I could deal with my guilt later with a scotch on the rocks.

“Fine… yeah…” she mumbled into my sweater. “I’ll call Natalie.” Mom rubbed her eyes, her smile sad and shaky. “Thank you. I know you have feelings about staying in California, but your dad wouldn’t hear of you coming home.” She smoothed her hands over my chest, wiping away the wrinkles in my sweater. “‘Not yet,’ he’d say. ‘You tell him, not yet.’ I wish it was still not yet.”

I didn’t blink, didn’t even flinch. I knew what she’d meant. It wasn’t that she didn’t want me here. Not yet meant he was still okay. Not yet meant we had more time.

“What did the doctor say yesterday, you never told me.”

“Any day now. His labs looked terrible. All we can do is keep him comfortable.” She cleared her throat. “Make sure he eats enough, he’ll fight you on it, but he has to eat something, alright?”

“Yeah.”

“And when the nurse comes, tell her that the soap she used the other day left a rash on his back, and I’ve left her a bottle of the stuff he likes in the bathroom.”

“Okay.”

“And tell her to make sure to take his blood pressure on his left side, it’s always lower on his right and—”

“Mom… I’ve got it.”

“I’ll write it down before I go and leave it on the kitchen counter.”

I laughed despite the scowl on her face. “Okay, thanks.”

“Thank you.” She pressed another kiss to my cheek. “Need anything while I’m out?”

“I’m good, tell Natalie I said hi.”

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