Page 9 of All We Thought We Knew
Tears glistened in her eyes, and she stretched her arms toward me. “My Mattie. You’re home. You’re finally home.”
I’d told myself to be strong and not fall apart, but her motherly words unearthed every emotion I’d tried to bury over the past twelve months.
“Mama,” I whispered and stumbled to the bed. I knelt on the hardwood, took her hand in mine, and buried my face in the soft sleeve of her gown. As I sobbed, I felt her other hand stroke my dirty hair while she crooned, “My girl. My poor, poor girl.”
I don’t know how long I stayed there, but when my weeping subsided, I looked up to find compassion and love in her eyes rather than the condemnation and disapproval I deserved.
“I’m sorry, Mama,” I croaked, the words sincere. I wasn’t certain what I was apologizing for, but I knew it was long overdue. For leaving. For coming back. For her diagnosis. For Mark’s death. Maybe all of it.
“I know, sweetheart.” She sniffled and wiped her nose on a hanky. “We all are.”
I searched her face, trying to find my beautiful mother in the swollen flesh. “Why didn’t you tell me, Mama? I would have come home. You know I would have.”
She squeezed my hand, although there was no strength in her grasp. “I didn’t want you to come home for me. I wanted you to come home for you.”
It wasn’t an answer I would argue with. Not now. There were more important things to discuss. “I’m taking you to the hospital. Today. Let them do what they need to do to get you well.”
She removed her hand from mine and caressed my cheek. “I know this is hard to accept, Mattie, but there isn’t anything they can do. The cancer spread too much, long before we even knew it was there. They’d have to remove nearly all my innards, and still, they couldn’t be sure they’d gotten it all.”
Panic surged through me. “There must be something.” I heard desperation in my voice.
“You’re home now, and that’s the best medicine in the world,” she said with a soft smile. “Tell me about your trip. I bet you saw all sorts of interesting things.”
Mama always changed the subject when she decided the current topic of conversation was played out. I’d humor her for now, but I wasn’t giving up on the hospital and doctors. For the next thirty minutes I described Arizona’s tall saguaro cacti and the forests of pine trees we passed in Arkansas. I told her about the grumpy lady who boarded in Albuquerque and the bus driver who took a wrong turn in Oklahoma City. Mama laughed the way she used to when Mark told his stories, and although I detected a forced joviality in her smile, I treasured the sweet sound.
“I always thought I’d like to travel and see more of the country,” she said, her voice weakening. “But I suppose I’ll have to be content listening to you tell of your adventures.”
I closed my eyes, but tears escaped anyway. “It’s not fair,” I hissed. First Mark and now Mama.
“Maybe not, but I’m not afraid. God has his hand on me. On you, too.”
When I looked at her again, the expression of peace on her swollen face made me mad. “I can’t believe in a God who would fill your body with a vile disease and then sit back and do nothing to help. I won’t believe in a God who let my brother die a horrific death, fighting a horrific war that should have never happened. This is all wrong, Mama. Don’t you see?”
My raised voice brought my father to the open doorway. “Ava?” he said, concern in the single word as he came forward. He went to the opposite side of the bed and sat on the mattress. He didn’t look at me at all.
Mama’s lips lifted in a tired smile. “It’s good to be together again.”
Dad didn’t voice his agreement. “You don’t want to wear yourself out with too much talking.”
“I want to visit with Mattie a while longer.” She sounded like a little child, begging to stay up past her bedtime.
“You didn’t sleep well last night. It’s important for you to rest.”
I watched him place a small white pill in her mouth, then he held a glass of water to her lips. After Dad helped her into a comfortable position, Mama reached for my hand again. Her eyelids were already beginning to droop. “Come see me after I’ve napped a little. We have a lot of catching up to do.”
I nodded. By the time I’d gotten to my feet and kissed her forehead, her eyes had drifted closed. I stood and watched her for a long minute while Dad tidied up the bottles of medicines and other items on the bedside table.
“She’ll sleep a while now,” he said when he’d finished.
I didn’t look up. “Why are her face and hands swollen?”
“The medicine.”
His answer was woefully inadequate. A dozen questions poured through me. What medicine? What’s it for? Why isn’t she in thehospital? Why are you letting my mother die? On and on, but I didn’t voice any of them. Anything he had to say, I suspected, would not satisfy me.
I turned and left the room without another word.
Despite the desire to crawl back into bed and pull the covers over my head, I trudged downstairs. I wasn’t much of a coffee drinker, but I was in serious need of some caffeine or something to keep me going. Ever since my overdose, I’d stayed away from drugs, but I had to admit I wouldn’t pass up a line of coke or some LSD right now. The thought of facing my first day back on the farm without something to take the edge off reality terrified me.
