Page 173 of Things I Wish I Said
Seconds later, the door creaks open.
My mother hovers in the doorway before stepping inside and making her way over to me. She sinks down onto the edge of the bed, her eyes puffy and swollen, the tip of her nose red.
Guilt snakes through me, knowing I’m the reason for her sadness.
“Hey,” I say, breaking the silence. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
She nods, glancing down at her hands, and I hate myself a little for making things harder for her than they already are when it’s the opposite of what I wanted.
“John told me the two of you spoke in the hospital.”
It takes me a moment to respond, surprised by the direction of the conversation. “Yeah, we did.”
“I thought things felt different.”
“Yeah.” I swallow. “Turns out he’s pretty nice. I think maybe I misjudged him.”
Mom grins at my choice of words, remembering our prior conversation before she sobers. “He told me you overheard the proposal, that you thought we were waiting . . .”
I swallow, feeling slightly sheepish at her stern expression. “I thought you were waiting until after I was gone, that it would be easier without me in the way.”
“You know that’s not true, right?” Mom reaches out and squeezes my hands. “Ryleigh, you’re my daughter. You’re my number one, always. Whether you’re here or not, nothing changes that. My life would never be the same again without you in it. I’d be . . . lost, damaged beyond repair, and that’s the cold hard truth. No one, not even John or a new family, could ever mend the hole you’d leave behind.”
“But you’re so much better off without me,” I say, my voice shaking.
Mom reaches out and cups my face in her hands. “Oh, Ryleigh. What have I ever done to give you that impression?”
“The debt. The constant worrying. Trips to the hospital. All of that would be gone.”
Mom barks out a laugh. “Do you really think life is that simple? Erase one source of stress and another one comes along. Ryleigh, a world without you in it isn’t a place I want to be. I’dtake all the debt in the world just for another day with you, let alone a lifetime. I’d give my right arm. My job. My life. Anything if it meant saving you. I do not want you gone. Ever. Parents aren’t supposed to outlive their children. Do you hear me?”
I nod, silent.
“So, don’t leave me.”
“Mom . . .” I choke out, my heart swelling inside my chest. “It’s not that easy.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Mom’s lips tip in a rueful smile. “Now, are you ready to tell me about what happened with the award?”
My stomach turns at the thought, but she should know.
I blink back at her and inhale before filling her in on everything that happened with the award. How terribly the filming went for the promo videos. How all the other nominees reacted to the revelation I had cancer. How the interviewer focused on my illness instead of my success. How I overheard them talking and finding out I got the award solely because I’m sick. Missing them call my name. Heading back to the hotel room. Breaking up with Grayson but glazing over the things we said to each other. All of it.
“For someone who did the breaking up, you seem pretty miserable. I can’t count the number of times you’ve checked your phone, scanning it for new messages. I still don’t get it.”
I sigh, biting my lip as I stare past her at the wall. How do I put into words how I feel about Grayson and why I broke up with him?
“It’s hard to explain,” I say.
“Try.”
I scowl, wanting to tell her no, but then I remember the anguished look on her face before she broke down in front of the coffin in the garage, and I try. “I broke up with him for a lot of reasons.”
“Which are . . .?”
“He’s going to college where he’ll play baseball in the spring. He has this big, bright future in front of him while I have nothing. No future. Just cancer. There’s nothing else interesting about me. Nothing on the horizon. I’m just . . . existing. It’s like soccer defined me and now that I don’t have it, I’m already gone.”
For some reason, I don’t tell her about the wish. I can’t bring myself to say it wasn’t real when I know it was.
