Page 24 of Embers of You
After I get off shift,I’m exhausted as usual, but I still make sure to check in with Ma as soon as I get home. Instead of finding her inside resting like she should be, she’s out on the back deck taking care of some of the plants.
“Ma, what are you doing?” I ask, approaching her.
“Something I love. So if you tell me to stop I’m going to bury you with some of these flowers,” she threatens, pointing her gardening gloves at me.
“It’s not nice to threaten your one and only child, you know?”
“It’s also not nice for my one and only child to try and take away my favorite activities.”
“That’s not what I’m doing. I’m looking out for you.”
“So am I. Because if you ever tried to stop your future wife from doing something she enjoys she would already have you six feet under. I’m giving you a courtesy warning.”
“Have I ever told you that you’re vicious?” I laugh.
She joins me with her own laughter that quickly turns into a cough, and I rush to help her to the bench. Her coughing subsides and she waves me off. “I’m fine, you overreact.”
I wish that’s what it was, but I know she’s downplaying it. I know we all want to believe she’s not as sick as she is, and luckily most days she seems like she’s not sick at all. But there’s glimpses like this that bring us back to reality. The unknown ofher diagnosis and treatment, the unknown of the disease as a whole.
“Can I go back to my gardening now?” she asks sarcastically.
“You don’t need my permission.” I gesture toward the flower boxes with an open hand, and she goes back to working on them.
I don’t move from my spot on the bench, taking my phone out to act like I’m doing something on it.
“Go get some rest, you look exhausted,” she tells me.
“I’m fine, if you’re going to be out here then so am I.”
“You’re worse than an overbearing parent.”
“I’m not a parent.” I chuckle.
“You’re not, so maybe you should do something about that and give me grandkids instead of hovering over me.” She gives me a pointed look.
I shake my head, still messing around on my phone and end up pulling up the text thread with Sutton.
Jameson: How’s your schedule looking?
“Are you texting a girl?” my mom asks suddenly. I look up at her, wondering if she has a superpower I’ve never been informed of.
“Who says I’m texting anyone?”
“So you are. Good, she can get you off my back for a little bit.” She smiles over her shoulder at me.
“No woman will ever get me off your back, Ma. You come first.”
She sighs just as my phone signals that I got a text.
Sutton: I’m free tomorrow.
Jameson: Perfect, come by any time.
Sutton: Can I bring my dog?
Jameson: Of course.
I send her my address and feel my mom sit next to me on the bench again. Her cool hand rests on my arm, pulling my attention to her.
