Page 46 of Fight Or Flight

I’d look at her and even though her organs were shutting down, there was still life inside of her. Sure, she looked sick, and she slept more than she was awake, but today, she had these crazy bursts of energy from time to time. I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, that I was holding onto a hope that didn’t exist. The nurse explained that it was normal and part of the dying process. She called it a surge and encouraged me to make the most of these precious moments because they wouldn’t last for very long.

“Why don’t you let me do your makeup?” my mom asks. “I can curl your hair like I used to when you were little too.”

I would love that, one of my fondest childhood memories is when she and I would play dress-up together. I remember thinking I couldn’t wait to be a teenager and play with her makeup. I imagined her helping me get ready for school dances and the usual teenage social activities.

Sadly, we never got around to any of that and if today is all we get, I won’t deny myself one last beautiful memory. After all, you are never too old to play dress-up.

“Are you sure?” I ask hopefully.

“Go grab my makeup bag,” she replies, treating me to a smile. It’s not as bright or even as big as the ones of my childhood, but nonetheless beautiful.

I slide out of the bed and cross the room to grab her bag of tricks.

“Help me put this thing upright,” she says as I reach the bed.

I hand her the makeup bag and press the button on the side of the bed until she’s sitting upright. Patting the bed, she orders me to take a seat. I quickly gather my hair and pull it away from my face with a scrunchie as she gets to work on making me look beautiful.

“You have your dad’s eyes,” she murmurs softly. “So big, bright, and full of unspoken dreams. Promise me you’ll find the courage to chase your dreams, sweet girl.”

I may have lost the courage to say goodbye, but my mom hasn’t.

She’s the true hurricane out of the two of us.

The strongest.

The bravest.

The fiercest.

“I promise,” I whisper.

“Don’t be afraid to take chances either.”

“I’ll embrace the detours.”

The tears pool and spill down my cheeks.

“That’s my girl,” she says hoarsely, and this time, it’s her who cries. But she quickly blinks those tears away.

The strongest.

Bravest.

Most fierce hurricane of all.

“Another thing,” she continues, pausing to grab another makeup brush. She dabs it against the eyeshadow palette. “Don’t be afraid of the love bug.” She brings her eyes back to me and smiles softly. “When it bites you, run with it, even if it scares the hell out of you. I promise you, sweet girl, life is short, and depriving yourself of love is a regret you don’t want to have. It won’t always be easy, but love is beautiful. In the darkest hours, when everything seems hopeless, love will blanket you. It will lift you and carry you to the light.”

She brushes the tears from my cheeks with her thumb and leans forward, resting her forehead against mine.

“I’ll be there for you, Brooklyn. When you’re too scared to tell him you love him, I’ll be there. When he asks you to marry him, I’ll be there. When Lauren fixes your veil, and Riggs walks you down the aisle, I’ll be there. I’ll never leave you, not really.”

But she is leaving me.

“Quit crying,” she chides, pressing her lips to my nose. “You’re ruining your makeup and I’m too tired to do it again.”

“It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Actually, you are.”

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