Page 16 of Can't Get Enough

“Why should I feel discouraged,” I sing softly, pressing a finger to my other ear as my voice runs headlong into the song the DJ is blasting. “Why should the shadows come? Why should my heart feel lonely and long for heaven and home?”

I draw a deep breath, the reverent words juxtaposed against Lil Jon screaming from the window to the wall at the top of his A-town lungs.

“When Jesus is my portion. A constant friend is He. His eye is on thesparrow and I know He watches me. I sing because I’m happy. I sing because I’m free. His eye is on the sparrow and I know He watches me.”

The final note melts into the little bit of silence Mama and I share, and my eyes prick with tears. Whether it’s the spiritual lyrics or the sadness of the moment, I’m not sure.

“Yes,” Mama sighs, finally sounding more like herself. “I love that one.”

“I know,” I choke out, blinking to keep the tears from falling in the middle of the party. “You feel better?”

“I do.”

“I think you should go lie down, yeah?”

I hold my breath, hoping against hope she doesn’t disagree.

“Okay,” she says after another beat. “I-I’ll go lie down.”

“Is your sister still there? Can you give the phone to Geneva?”

There’s a bit of a shuffle as Mama hands the phone back to my aunt.

“Night, Bet,” Aunt Geneva calls before turning her attention to me. “Thank you. I hate to bother you.”

“Please don’t hesitate, Aunt G. Nothing’s more important. I’m just glad that trick still works. One day it may not.”

“I’m glad, too.” Aunt Geneva chuckles. “You do sound like Ma.”

“I do?” I ask ruefully.

“Yeah, she had a deep voice like yours. I can see how it calms Bet. Thinking Ma’s back.”

“Well, I hope she stays calm for the rest of the night.”

“She should. I’ll give her some tea in a bit.”

“Thank you. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

We disconnect and I take a few seconds to compose myself. It always throws me, being mistaken for someone else in my mother’s past, usually my grandmother. It’s only happened a few times, but it makes me that much more desperate to spend as much time as I can with my mother while she still knows me.

“Everything okay?” Chapel asks, stepping close and laying a gentle hand on my arm. “Your mom?”

“Yeah.” I cover her hand with mine and offer a weary smile. “Got a little agitated.”

Zere and Maverick stand closer now, too, giving us space to breathe, but obviously in earshot. They probably heard everything.

“My mother,” I say, turning my head to catch their curious gazes. “She has Alzheimer’s.”

“Oh, Hen,” Zere gasps. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine.” I shrug. “I mean, it actually sucks, but it is what it is.”

“My grandfather had it,” Maverick adds softly, his brows bunched over the dark concern of his eyes.

“Had?” I ask, looking directly at him and bracing myself for the truth of the past tense that will find me eventually.

“He…” Maverick glances down for a second before looking back up to meet my eyes squarely. “He passed away.”

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