Page 31 of Everest

I represented Ms. Baxter in her divorce, where she received a hefty settlement along with the judge's order for her estranged husband to continue paying all her medical bills, including her cancer treatment, after their son had been born. Ms. Baxter hasremained steadfast through it all. She gave birth to a beautiful, healthy boy alone. Underwent treatment for her breast cancer alone. Endured a grueling divorce alone. For the past eight months, she has been fighting for her son, a son her husband never wanted, but has decided to fight for just to hurt my client even further. But today, Mr. Kiefer slipped and showed his true colors by not bothering to show up to court, a true testament that he didn’t care about his son.

“Your Honor.” Marsha stands. “I’d like to call?—”

Judge Hoffman holds up his hand, effectively cutting Marsha off. Now, Marsha’s face turns red from embarrassment. “Save it, counselor. You and your client have wasted enough of my time, which was demonstrated in my courtroom today. I’m granting full custody of two-year-old Lucas Baxter to his mother, Mary Baxter, along with the requested child support. Mr. Kiefer will also be required to pay all back child support.” The judge finishes by slamming the gavel.

“Thank you, Your Honor.” I stand.

Judge Hoffman offers a warm smile. “Best of luck to you and your son, Ms. Baxter.”

Beside me, Ms. Baxter holds her hands clasped together in front of her chest with silent tears running down her cheeks. I can’t help but feel a sense of pride mixed with admiration as I look at this incredibly strong woman in front of me. I’m proud to be standing on the side of what’s right. Unfortunately, we live in a world where the bad guys win more often than not. But on days like today, when justice prevails and victory is sweet, it makes taking on all the asshole Adam Kiefer’s of the world worth it. Watching scum attorneys like Marsha lose is an added bonus.

After court, I stop by Maggie’s to pick up the to-go order I phoned in fifteen minutes prior, then head to see my mom. When I arrive at Golden Hills, I’m greeted by her nurse. “Hey, London. I see you brought lunch today.”

“Hey, Mary. Court ended early, so I thought I’d bring Mom her favorite from Maggie’s.” I hold up the bag. “How is she today?”

Mary's face softens. “She’s a little lost today, but other than that, she’s good. I can take you to her if you like. She’s enjoying the sun out on the lawn.”

“That would be great. Thanks, Mary." I follow Mary outside and spot Mom sitting in an Adirondack chair facing the lake.

“She likes to watch the ducks,” Mary tells me. “Faye, you have a visitor.”

As we approach, Mom's head turns toward us. My chest tightens when she peers up at me without a hint of recognition.

“Hello,” she greets me in a way you’d greet a stranger. “Do I know you?”

I swallow past the lump in my throat and smile. “No. But I saw you sitting out here by the lake and was hoping you’d like to share some lunch with me.”

“That sounds lovely.” Mom’s eyes light up.

Mary smiles warmly before taking her leave.

Sitting in the chair beside Mom, I dig the Styrofoam container out of the bag.

“Whatever that is, it sure smells good,” Mom says.

I open the container and show her what’s inside, and that’s when her eyes light up like a little girl. “Mac and cheese is my favorite. How did you know?”

The ache in my chest returns. “Lucky guess,” I croak, setting the plate in her lap and settling her with a plastic fork and napkin. Macaroni and cheese was a staple in the Monroe household growing up. Mom said mac and cheese was a cure-all, and it truly was. Nothing in the world would cure a bad day at school, a scraped knee, or a broken heart like mac and cheese.

One day, when I was seven, I came home from school in a mood after Bobby Markle pushed me down on the playgroundat recess and stole the sticker Mrs. Nelson had given me for finishing all my homework. Mom sat me down and gave me a bowl of mac and cheese, then explained that Bobby was just jealous because I was an A student. And she gave me permission to kick him in the balls if he ever put his hands on me again.

Then there was the time when I was fourteen. My boyfriend broke up with me the day before the winter dance and asked Beth Arnold to go with him instead. Again, Mom sat me down with a bowl of mac and cheese and taught me that if a boy treated me the way Connor had, he wasn’t good enough for me. It was better to find out early if a boy was worthy of my time rather than finding out later.

Mom was right.

She was always right.

And the mac and cheese ritual didn’t stop as I grew older.

When I was in college, if I was having a crap day, I could come home to my mom, and she’d have a plate prepared for me by the time I walked in the door, along with her words of wisdom.

God, I miss those days.I want to be back in my childhood home with my mom after a bad day and have her tell me everything will be all right. My life is a mess, and I struggle to stay above water every damn day.

Mom is sick, my friend is missing, and I’m looking my best friend in the eyes every day and lying to her because I’m ashamed of the things I have to do in order to take care of the woman who means the most to me in this entire world. I feel like a fraud, a failure, and a shit friend. I just want to eat mac and cheese and have my mom take all my troubles away. But that’s not going to happen. And the reality of that is hitting me like a ton of bricks.

When I look over at Mom, she’s greedily eating on her food in silence while watching the ducks swim around in the lake. I can’thelp but stare at the woman sitting next to me and think how unfair life is. How can the woman sitting here look like my mom but at the same time not look like her? You would think the days when she’s angry and doesn’t understand who she is or where she is are the hardest. They're not. It’s days like today where her eyes are void of the light she used to exude. Days like today are when she’s the shell of the person she once was. She looks lost. But that’s what the disease does. It takes and takes until you have nothing left to give.

I’m taking a bite of my food when Mom’s hand pauses halfway to her mouth. She looks at the fork and then down at her plate. She’s silent for a beat before she turns and looks at me. And just like that, I see a familiar light shining in her eyes.

---