Page 45 of Catch the Sun

After she skips out the door, leaving me in a cloud of candied sweetness, I shift on the bed and quickly open the note from Max. Familiar black ink stares back at me and I bite down on my lip.

Three Reasons You Should Always Swim to the Surface

1. Swimming is good exercise. It’s the reason my arms look so good. (Don’t deny it. I know you like my arms.)

2. The sun is above the surface. The sun suits you.

3. I’d miss you.

—Max

I’m interrupted by my mother bounding into the bedroom with a mug of hot tea, her hair in curlers, eyes bloodshot. I stuff the note underneath my pillow and flash her a semi-maniacal smile. “Hey, Mom.”

“Your fever broke.” She approaches with a sigh of relief and sets the neon-orange mug down beside my lava lamp. “How’s that cough?”

“Phlegmy and grotesque.”

Pressing the back of her hand to my forehead cased in cool sweat, she smiles softly. “You look a little better. Less flushed.”

“Yep.” My head drops to the headboard as I twist to face her. “I’m back to my standard complexion of ghostly and pale.”

“Your friend is lovely, by the way… Brynn.” Mom takes a seat beside me. “She dropped off some homework assignments for you to work on once you’re over the hump.”

I groan. “The anticipation is too much. You shouldn’t overexcite me in my current state.”

“Oh, Ella.” Sighing, she presses her palm to the blanket wad that houses my legs. “You have no idea how thankful I am for Max. I can’t imagine…” Sheblinks away a wall of tears. “The thought of you… I can’t…”

Her voice cracks. She can’t even get the words out.

Guilt comes soaring back to the surface as gavels slam down all around me.

I was so fucking selfish. I almost left her entirely alone. Childless and bereaved.

I don’t reply.

I’m too afraid I’ll confess my horrible sin and my sentence will be a slow death.

Regrouping, she clears the anguish from her throat and forces a smile. “Grandma Shirley sent you a nice card and a check for fifty dollars. I told her you were struggling to find a job and this infection is going to set you back.”

Grandma Shirley is one of those stingy old ladies who has spent her entire life putting her money away. She’s loaded. She claims she’s being responsible, but she’s turning eighty this year.

While she was helpful in our time of need, buying us a used car and purchasing us this little house after Mom went close to broke paying for Jonah’s legal bills, she still gave us a lecture on how important it is to dig our way out of the hole on our own.

I tug the bedcovers up to my chin and make a humming noise. “Cool. Thanks.”

“I’m headed back to the salon tomorrow,” Mom continues. “Will you be okay on your own? Should I wait a few more days?”

“No, I’m fine. I think I’m through the worst of it.” I look out the window when I hear some kind of crashing noise across the street. Nothing looks amiss at the Manning residence from the outside—but I know better than anyone that outward appearances can be deceiving. I blink back to my mother. “I’ll call you if I need anything.”

“All right.” She gives my thigh a squeeze and stands from the mattress before hesitating briefly. “Oh, and Ella?”

I glance at her. “Yeah?”

Mom studies me for a beat, her eyes thinning with contemplation. Then she shakes her head full of pink curlers and asks through a frown, “Why on earth were you swimming with your shoes on?”

***

A tapping sound wakes me from the dead.

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