Page 111 of We Were Something
She blinks at me a few times before letting out a sigh then closing her eyes. “Fine,” she whispers, and I slump back in my seat.
The rest of the day is spent at my mother’s side, with her waking up here and there, her mind less and less foggy each time she opens her eyes.
Her memory is a bit of a jumble, and a few of her questions and comments don’t make sense. Like when she asked when Jen would be here to pick up the baby, or when she mentioned how much she loved the flowers Paige brought in. Explaining to her that Jen hadn’t given birth yet made her cry, and when I asked her if she knew who Paige was, she couldn’t tell me.
At one point, I call Jen to let her know my mom is awake and she can come say hi if she wants. That leads to Mom finding out Rodney passed away, and she and Jen cry for quite a while about that.
It’s the first night I leave her at the hospital to go to her house and sleep without any worries about the following day. Whatever I face, we will figure it out together. Memory problems, speech delays, motor functions, walking—it doesn’t matter. She’s alive.
“Thank you for bringing me something I can enjoy eating after two weeks of no food,” my mother says as I walk into her room the next morning.
“Well, Dr. Ramos said you can have a bit, but your stomach hasn’t had solid food in a while. You don’t want to overdo it.”
My mother just gives me a mischievous smile as I prep her bagel and cream cheese.
“So, how have you been managing work since you’ve been here?” she asks as she takes a bite of her food with her left hand, her right still in a cast from the accident.
“Other doctors took my cases,” I tell her, “which works out better anyway since I’m planning to move back here.”
Mom sets down her bagel and watches me, her eyes narrowing into a glare I haven’t seen from her in a long time.
“Mom, you’re recovering from a traumatic brain injury,” I tell her. “You need to remain calm.”
“Well if you want me to stay calm, don’t tell me things that piss me off.” Her voice returns to its natural softness. “Don’t tell me this conversation can wait until I’m healthier, or until I’m up and running marathons.”
I snort. My mother hasn’t run a day in her life.
“I don’t need to talk to a doctor. I need to talk to my son,” she continues, “and I need him to listen to me when I tell him he is making ahorriblemistake.”
Shifting in my chair, I lean forward again.
“Mom, what are you talking about? You never wanted me to move back to California in the first place.”
“I’m not talking about moving, Logan. I’m talking aboutPaige.” She shakes her head.
My brows furrow. “How do you…”
“I’ve been unconscious, but I haven’t been sleeping. Some of it is blurry, but I’ve been listening to a lot since the day they put me in this bed, and I think you’re making the biggest mistake of your life by breaking up with her.”
I stare at my mother, feeling…I don’t know. Feeling a million things. Confused. Surprised. Shocked. I’m overjoyed that she’s able to have this conversation—that her mental faculties are present enough to not only use all these words but also to have taken in things while she was unconscious—but I also feel railroaded that she has any idea who Paige is and has suddenly flipped the script on her opinions about what I should be doing with my life and my time.
From the moment Jen and I filed for divorce, my mom has had an opinion about my life, and it usually painted me as the man who wouldn’t give my wife a child.Iwas the one breaking up our family, not Jen, which is why she’s seen no issue with continuing to spend time with my ex even after we split. Why she considered Jen’s baby her grandchild even though it wasn’t mine.
She didn’t understand why a little infidelity would tear apart a happy family. In her opinion, I should have stayed with Jen and been a dad, probably jointly with Rodney.
I couldn’t imagine anything less desirable.
So her sudden comments about Paige are shocking. Not only because she hasanyidea who she is, but because I really never thought she would care about a partner of mine ever again, though I didn’t dwell on it much because it wasn’t a big priority.
Clearly, something for my mother has changed.
“You and Jen were together nearly twenty years, and I can’t remember a single time I’ve ever heard her talk about you the way Paige rambled on.”
I blink. “What are you talking about?”
“That girl sat at my bedside and gushed about you so much. I can’t tell you how many times she was here because they kind of mix together, but the way she talked about you…” My mom gives me a sweet smile. “That’s the kind of love I want for my son.”
I lick my lips and shake my head. “I appreciate it, mom,” I tell her, not wanting to sit and talk about Paige and all the amazing parts of who she is. “I do. But things with me and Paige…it’s just not going to work.”
