Page 51 of The Facade

But I knew I wouldn’t have much longer to talk to my mom about my various crushes—even if it was sometimes embarrassing talking about these kinds of things with her. So I said, “Maybe I was thinking about a girl.”

“I knew it.” Mom’s smile broadened again on the right side of her face, showing some of her ultra-white teeth. “Is it someone from school?”

“Yes.”

“And does she know you like her?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I mean, I never said I liked her. Just that I was thinking about her.”

“Same thing.” Mom laughed lightly, and I liked how it sounded. Light and joyful, like she wasn’t in the process of dying. “Do you think she likes you back?”

Her question made me suddenly feel like I was back in elementary and passing notes to one of my crushes, asking her to check the boxyesornoto see if she liked me.

But since I did know the answer to my mom’s question already, I said, “She likes another guy.”

“Likes someone more than my boy?” Mom tsked. “Is she blind? Does she even know who you are?”

“I’m as confused as you are by that.” I chuckled. “I mean, there’s no doubt that I’m the better choice.”

“Of course you are.” She patted my arm with the hand that wasn’t paralyzed by her illness. “With two amazing parents like your father and me, there’s no way you can’t be the better choice.”

“Yes, my special charm is all due to you and dad.”

She looked like she was going to say something, but then she winced in the way she always did when a headache was hitting, and I knew our lighthearted conversation would be over.

She sighed. A look that I hated crossed her features—the look of defeat that showed how miserable she was and with no hope that the pain would go away while she was still living.

“I think I need to rest.” Mom sighed heavily again. “Could you shut the curtains?”

“Of course.” I leaned closer and kissed her gently on the cheek.

Then after squeezing her hand three times, I climbed off her bed and pushed the button on the remote to close the curtains.

When the room was darker, I asked, “Want me to help you get more comfortable?”

She looked down at her body. She’d been propped up on pillows for the past hour so she could see the TV on the wall in front of her and my dad’s bed. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

So I walked over to her side of the bed, and after pulling out a few pillows from behind her, I set one of my arms behind her knees and the other beneath her back so I could get her to a lie-down position.

I helped her get settled on her side—in case a seizure came while she slept. And because there was a part of me that always worried she might not wake up again, I kissed her cheek once more, letting myself linger beside her for a second to breathe in her familiar and comforting lavender scent. I whispered, “Thanks for being the best mom. I love you.”

She opened her eyes and gently patted my arm with her good hand. “I love you too, Macky. But you really need to stop looking at me like I’m going to die today.”

“Sorry,” I said softly, my heart squeezing as I took in her face. “I’m not trying to. I just…”

“I know.” And when her eyes met mine, there was an understanding in them that didn’t need to be spoken aloud. We both knew that each day that passed just brought us one day closer to our last goodbye. “But the doctors promised I’d be here for Thanksgiving. And I’m determined to have my pumpkin pie.”

I gave her a sad smile even though the prospect of only having her for a few more weeks gutted me. “I’ll make sure we get the best pie you’ve ever tasted,” I said. “Sleep well, Mom.”

She nodded. “Show me your costume before the Halloween dance, okay? I need a photo with my baby.”

“I will.” I kissed her forehead and smoothed a thumb over the scarf she wore on her head. “We’ll have a whole photo shoot if you want.”

15

Mack

I decidedto take the slow cooker that the Hastings had brought over with soup back to them after I finished talking to my mom.

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