Page 76 of The Blue Rose
I just stare at her, frozen. The words I want to say, the tears I want to cry, don’t come. They’re stuck. Refusing to come out. Dead. Just like she will be.
“Serena, everything is going to be okay. Doctors make mistakes all the time; it is a part of life. I’m here if you need to talk, hunny. You know I’ll always be here.”
I nod my head knowing it’s what I should do but not hearing her words. The world around me stands still, I feel like I’m floating. I feel like I’m in a wave pool, and waves are trying to pull me back as I try to swim free.
Dad curses the doctors, as they leave, and he comes over and hugs Mom. She starts to sob in his arms, he rubs her head telling her they will figure this out, and Dad pulls me into their embrace.
We stay like that for a while, simply holding one another. Mom crying, dad holding back his tears, and me staring into the abyss.
It isn’t until we get back home and I take a scalding hot shower that the tears finally fall. I have the music loud so my parents can’t hear me fall apart. They don’t need my pain added to theirs. They never have. Especially not now. We all need to be strong, and I need to be there for Mom for whatever time she has left. I hug myself crumpled on the shower floor, letting the waterhit my back, and cry and cry and cry. It isn’t until my fingers and toes start to prune, and the water runs cold, that I finally get out.
I head to my room, not bothering to get dressed or turn on the light. Laying in bed, wrapped in my towel, I watch the fan go around and around, until finally my eyes start to drift closed. I tumble into the abyss of my sweet nightmare knowing nothing could be worse than my current reality.
It’s beensix months since we got the news from the doctor. Longer than anyone expected, and for that, we are grateful. But it hasn’t been easy. Mom is dying. The light that once shined so brightly has been completely snuffed out. She is bedridden and can’t even eat anymore. She has food bags, and hydration IVs. Her skin is pale, and she can barely speak. Dad only visits her at night to say goodnight, but every Saturday he sets up little dates in her room. Every Saturday they both look forward to it, and the light returns to Mom’s eyes briefly, until sleep claims her.
I visit her every morning and every night, talking to her and telling her about my day. Most days it’s to complain about Jessica and how she’s being cruel or mean. I try not to complain too much, but Mom insists I tell her everything. She said after that incident in high school I needed to ditch her, and I did. For a while. Then I got lonely. I had no friends, and Jessica apologized. We were really good for a long time after that, she would only make rude remarks every once in a while. All I would need to do is give her a look and she’d shut up.
Lately though it feels like we are right back in high school, and I am getting fed up. With my mom being as sick as sheis, Jess should understand I want to spend as much time with her as I can. I don’t know how much time I have left. But she’s always been a selfish narcissist and canceling on her every time she wants to go somewhere is making it all worse. The rude comments, the snide remarks, her commenting on my weight, or what I’m wearing. She’s looped back into her old habits of bringing me down to make herself feel better. I can’t handle being her personal punching bag anymore, so the best solution I’ve come up with to avoid the drama she brings is to just ignore her. Until I can erase her from my life for good.
It’s time for me to go see Mom, I’m going to tell her how I’ve finally decided to follow her advice. To let Jessica go once and for all, and not fall back into old habits. I’m bouncing with each step I take, getting excited, knowing how happy the news will make Mom.
Walking in, I see Mom in her bed, IV’s hooked up and her hair a mess. Dad is sitting next to her, holding her hand. They’re talking in soft voices, both of their eyes closed. They don’t notice I’m standing in the door, I freeze and just watch them. Soaking in a moment I don’t know if I’ll ever see again.
My parents are so in love.The look in my dad’s eyes while he talks to her about his day is like how a couple looks at one another when they first fall in love, but there is also sadness shining in his eyes. An understanding. A begrudging acceptance.
Mom is the first to notice me as she looks past Dad and gives me a small smile. Dad turns around, following her gaze.
“Serena, is it time already for you to see mom?” he asks, a pitch of sadness in his tone. I nod my head, and Dad kisses Mom goodbye, Gripping my shoulder he looks at me and whispers, “She isn’t doing too good today, don’t stay long, she needs rest.”
I tap his hand to let him know I heard him, something we’ve started doing when difficult news needs to be shared in front of Mom. He leaves the room but doesn’t close the door all the way.
“Hey, Mom; how are you feeling today?”
Dad’s right, Mom doesn’t look good. She looks paler than usual, and her lips are so chapped the skin is flaking. Her arms and hands have become so boney, and her cheeks have sunken in more, she looks like a barely breathing skeleton.
“I’m okay, honey,” she wheezes, unable to say anymore.
I take the glass of water on her nightstand and hold the straw to her lips so she can take a little sip. “How’s that, Mom?”
She coughs a little, drinking too much, but nods her head. “I want to talk to you about something important, Serena.”
My body tenses and I set the cup down, bracing myself for what’s to come. She only uses my name when it is serious. “What is it?” I ask, wariness in my voice.
“I’m dying,” she whispers.
We all know that, but we don’t talk about it. We like to live in denial, yet Mom is flat out saying it now. Why?
“I know, mom.” I say looking down.
“Not fast enough,” she rasps.
My head shoots up, and my eyes go wide.What does she mean by that?
“I need you to help me go,” she croaks.
I start shaking my head violently. “No. Mom, you can’t be serious. I know things are bad, but they could,” my voice breaks, tears filling my eyes. “No; theywillget better. Don’t say things like that. Please, Mom!” I cry.
She can’t ask me to do this. She’s my best friend. My rock. Myperson. Without her to guide me, I know I’ll fall apart. She wants to leave me forever, and she wantsmeto be the one to do it? No. I can’t. I won’t. I refuse.
