Page 51 of Someone to Hold
“I was wondering if you’d like some fresh flowers in your room, Brittany,” she says gently, like they’ve known each other for years.
“Daffodils,” Mom says, pointing at the bouquet. “I like those.”
“I remember,” Molly says, her voice like spun sugar.
God, she’s sweet. Sweeter than I deserve. I didn’t even know Mom liked daffodils, and I definitely never thought to bring her flowers. Only chocolate as a bribe for a better mood. But Icoulddo more. Ishould.
“I’ll put them here on the end table.” Molly moves closer then gives me an encouraging smile.
As Mom stares at the flowers, her brows furrow and her mouth pulls down into a frown.
“He hates flowers,” she mutters. “Says they make him sneeze. He thinks I buy them on purpose to make him miserable.” She shakes her head. “I just want something pretty in the house.”
My heart stills, then thumps wildly against my ribcage. “Mom, you’re the only one here. You can have flowers whenever you want.”
I figure she’s talking about my father. I don’t remember his allergies, but Idoremember how much he hated joy. Hated anything that made us happy. Whether it was flowers, bikes, or birthday parties, it didn’t matter. He’d find a reason to ruin it.
“If the flowers start bothering you, let one of the aides know,” Molly offers, gentle as ever.
But Mom’s not looking at her anymore. She’s staring atme. And there’s no recognition in her eyes.
I offer her what I hope is an understanding smile, even though my cheeks feel frozen. “Mom, if you don’t want?—”
“Why are you here?” she snaps. “I don’t want to see you. Haven’t you done enough?”
“Mom...” I hold up the chocolate like it’s a peace offering. “It’s me. Chase. I brought chocolate.”
I try to hand her another piece, and she flinches.
“Don’t touch me. You can’t be here.”
“I’m not?—”
I start to move closer, but step back the moment she cowers.
“Call the police,” she tells Molly, her tone frantic. “There’s no telling what he’ll do.”
My gaze locks on Molly’s and the understanding swirling in her green eyes nearly brings me to my knees. “It isn’t me she’s…”
My mom has gone completely still, almost catatonic, staring through me like I’m not even there.
“I know.” Molly lays a hand on my arm, her touch grounding me in a way that feels like it’s the only thing keeping me tethered to this world.
“I’ve got this,” she says. “Go find someone on staff. It’s not your fault.”
I want to believe her.
But I’ve done enough. Just by looking like the old man. Just by being here.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I whisper.
But she doesn’t respond. I’m not even sure she can.
At the door, I glance back. Molly’s kneeling in front of my mother, holding her hands and speaking so softly I can’t make out the words. But Mom is nodding.
That’s something.
I stop the first staff member I see and explain that something’s upset my mom, and she needs help. The woman gives me a strange look when I don’t follow her down the hall.
