Page 76 of The Breaking Pointe
takes her away, to refrain him from viewing such things. He’s far too old to be withheld from the situation, but he harbors this lost look, deep in his eyes as we watch her being carried out the door. He is quiet like a mouse, and as empty as I’ve ever seen him look. The graveness of his look won’t leave.It’s stuck with him, and I don’t think there’s anything that I can say or do that would be better than what my mother could say herself.
Hedoesn’twantcomfortfromme;hewantsitfromher.
Untilrecently,Ihaven’tthoughtanythingaboutwhat life would be like without my mom. Without both parents. It’s important to me that my mom meets the person I’m seeing, and that’s the real reason I invited Noelle over for dinner.Maybe it’s short notice, but I needed her to see that I won’t be alone like she fears. Without a thought, I wanted nothing more than for her to meet Noelle, specifically.She’s different from the others. So, when my mother leaves me, which I’m now coming to terms with, I can say one thing: she left only knowing that the last person on this Earth I’m imagining a future with is someone good. Or at least that’s what my conscience tells me.
I tell myself that deep down, my father would’ve loved the moment at dinner with Noelle, and every moment of my career. We would’ve felt like a real family. He would’ve adored her just as much as me. I know that for sure.
I think I just hate that I know how this is going to end.One of the worst things is being unable to recall my dad’s face. I can’t tell you what the man looked like off the top of my head. Not without a picture reference. I have no idea what he sounded like anymore, either. I can tell you some things I do remember, though.I can remember climbing trees in
the summer.It was hot.Humid.The kind that made you just wanna sit right in front of a fan. Instead, I was outside, picking berries. Being rewarded with a nice, big iced tea.
My mom would cook with the windows open so you could smell everything.And then, when my dad finally got home, I remember sitting in the living room with him while he watchedWheel of Fortune, yelling out answers over a cold brew. My mom would shake her head and peel me from the television for a bath.
It’s funny how your memory only stores the things that hold little value, that way.
In the grand scheme of it all, that’s how my deluded mind remembers everything, but truthfully, my dad was always mad.The tree was an escape.And the tea was my mom’s way of saying she was sorry for all the bullshit from the previous night. It’s really all about how you allow yourself to perceive things, or just how much you decide you want to remember. I pick and choose what I want to think about.Most of the time, the bad shit is all I can think about. So in a way, Trey was right, too, about it being up to me. But I don’t even know where to begin.
I believe that every parent gives you warning signs before the end approaches. Each one is more painful than the last. Slowly, they prepare you for the unthinkable. Let’s face it— nobody is ever ready for that storm.Even still, the clouds will still keep rolling in. Whether you want them to or not.
I stick around the house after the ambulance left to clean it of the debris left from them. Something I know my mother would’ve appreciated. I also did it to keep an eye on Steven. Though there isn’t much to observe, I think he deserves the option to see her in the hospital, if he wants to. I don’t want
togo,butIdon’thaveachoiceinthismoment.
“Steve, I’m gonna go see her. You can ride with me, if you want. If not, I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go. The offer is up to stay at my place so you aren’t—uh—alone.”I say the last words hesitantly.
“I don’t want to see her like that. Just leave me here,” he says, walking to the bottom of the stairs as I stand by the front door.
“Steven, I’m not leaving you here.You don’t have to come with me, but maybe there’s a friend or something around?” I suggest, holding back a sigh.
“Does it really matter?” he asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets with a disinterested expression.
“Uh—yeah, it does, kid. So make a decision for me, please? Mom said something about maybe a girlfriend?”I nod, shrugging.
“I don’t have a girlfriend.” he snaps. “Can you just take me to the skate park?”He sighs, grabbing his board that leans against the wall and his backpack off the floor.
“Fine.I’ll wait in the car,” I say, a little stunned by his aggression towards the mere suggestion of a girlfriend.I don’t know if I should apologize or ask further questions. I softly chew the insides of my cheeks, watching him get his shoes on before I turn to walk out.
19
don’t panic
COLTON
Going to the hospital is as antagonizing as I imagined it would be.So antagonizing that I can’t even stay in the building.Which didn’t matter because overnight visitors haven’t been allowed for a few months now due to the rapid illness outbreak within the building. So the doctors left me with a few major things to consider.
At-home hospice, or in-house hospice.And if I choose to keep her home, which I already think I will, I’m left to search for an at-home nurse who I can trust.I can trust a lot of things, but a random person to take care of my dying mother is not something I can settle over in one night. So, upon coming home, I do what I do best to think it over.
Running.
I park my car near Noelle’s dance studio for a decent foundation. There are a lot of streetlights, and the sidewalk ismoreopen.Itmakesforamorecomfortabletrailtorun
along.It’s also free of people since it’s now reached eight o’clock. That means I have little to no human objects in my way, and I can book it as fast as I want to.
The disaster inside my brain isn’t letting up, though, no matter how fast I run. I somehow carried the thoughts with me outside, and they are bringing my run to a light jog. The good feeling that usually comes along with it is absent this time. Every feeling is absent at this moment. I’m becoming numb the longer I go, giving myself a familiar feeling that I haven’t had that’s overpowering the numbness.
When I feel trapped in my emotions, I feel like I’m trapped in a steel box. I call it The Panic Box.
Not to mention, I’m gaining tunnel vision of the sidewalk in front of me, and if it wasn’t for the streetlights, I wouldn’t be able to notice my surroundings in the slightest. There is a familiarity about the street since it’s where Noelle’s studio resides, though. Late as it might be, my heart is longing for her to walk out and find me—maybe to tell me that things will be okay, and that I’m panicking for nothing.
