Page 41 of Breathe Again

I printed off twelve pages of information. Then I went through the document on the computer again and blacked out all the stuff I didn’t want Zale to know yet and printed that copy out too. I could have made a new document with none of the disturbing stuff included, but at least this way he’d know there was information I was withholding.

I would deal with that later.

Although I’d never kept anything from Zale, I wasn’t ready to tell him any of it, not yet. I was not looking forward to sharing and I needed to prepare myself in case he was horrified. I needed to prepare myself because I fully planned on giving him an easy out. One that I was only half praying he wouldn’t take.

Olivia was still fast asleep on the couch. I took my phone into the sunroom to phone my mother. I wouldn’t tell her about my diagnosis yet, but I needed to cancel our visit, and I needed comfort.

“Hello?”

“Hi, mom.”

“Hello, dear.”

“How are you, Mom?”

“Well! I emptied the dishwasher. Took an entire week to fill it with just me eating here. I did all my laundry, as well as the towels, and I just finished folding it all. I stripped my bed to wash next. I’m thinking about getting a new bedding set. I’m tired of these colors. I’ve been online shopping for the past two hours. I found a nice set for you. I’ll forward it to you. You should get it. Your bedroom needs a fresh-up, I’m sure. You’ve never been one to stay on top of decorating. I haven’t found one for myself yet. I have not decided if I want to paint my bedroom, but everything I’ve liked so far will require the bedroom to be painted. You know I can’t do it, it’s so frustrating to not be able to do what I want to do. Is there a time Zale could paint my bedroom?”

She spewed out a lot of words, the words dribbling from her lips in an unhurried fashion. She didn’t babble so much as she rambled.

“No, Mom, Zale is working a lot of hours right now. He has little free time.”

“It wouldn’t take that long,” she scoffed. “In my younger days I’d have it taped and painted in a single afternoon.”

She stopped talking and the silence stretched out between us. This was her game, and I’d learned not to keep on saying no or I’d soon find myself saying yes.

Finally, she sighed. “It’s not easy being a widow, Mara. When your father was here, he’d do all these things. God knows Willa won’t lift her hand to do anything for me. Never did. She was always selfish and self-centered…”

“Change the subject, or I’ll let you go, Mom.”

“No need to be touchy, Mara,” she reprimanded. “She is my child you know. No one loves like a mother does, but no one knows a child like a mother does either. You should know this. But I have to be honest, she’s a selfish girl.”

“Okay, Mom.” I sighed. “I’ll let you go.”

She huffed. “Fine. I suppose it’s good that you’re as loyal as you are. Just don’t forget to protect yourself. You’re much too trusting. I see something I like here. What do you think if I choose something sunny and yellow? That might work with the paint I have now since Zale can’t paint for me.”

“You could hire someone, Mom. There are lots of painters out there. You could freshen up the living room and the hallway as well. You’ve been talking about that.” I needed to appease her and get her off the idea of Zale painting her house. He didn’t even paint our house; I don’t know why she’d think he’d paint hers.

“I suppose so. I’ll see if one of the teens at the church is looking for volunteer hours. I’ll look at furniture too. I’ve had the same furniture since before your father died.” She sniffed. “Maybe it’s time to get rid of it and get something new. It’s hard to move on, Mara.”

My mom had more than enough money, a fact she liked to remind me of often, to hire someone to paint. She should be giving someone a job instead of playing the poor widow card to get someunsuspecting teen to work for free. I needed to rein it in. My mood was worse than I thought. I refocused on her last words.

“Of course. When you’re married as long as you were, it’s a huge change.”

“Aren’t you coming over here soon? I can show you the bedding and the furniture, get you to take a look at my bedroom.”

“I can’t come today, I’m sorry, Olivia’s not well.”

“What’s wrong with her?” she snapped.

“She’s got a migraine. I got the meds into her on time, but she's still sleeping on the couch, and I don't think she’s going to be well enough to go anywhere.”

“Does she really have a migraine, or does she just take advantage of her mom being her teacher?” She spoke knowingly, “Maybe she’d do a lot better surrounded by her peers, she’d maybe do more if she saw the other kids doing their work.”

This was a favorite topic of conversation for her, not at all for me. I remained silent.

“By the way, I ran into Rebecca the other day, met her fiancé,” she chirped, enunciating the three syllables of fiancé.

“Oh, yeah?” I brightened. Here was a topic I could happily discuss.

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