Page 34 of Take It Till You Make It
Mom turns to look at Queeny who lounges innocently in a spill of sunshine in the middle of the room.
“Is there something I can get for you?” I ask. “Do you want dinner?”
“No, I’ll eat some leftovers of that chicken dish you made last night, if that’s okay.”
“That’s great!” I hop up, slamming my laptop closed. “I’ll heat it up for you.”
“I’ve already got it in the microwave. Oh! There’s the bell. It’s already done.”
“You’re dressed! Are you going somewhere?” I mean, I can’t imagine where she’d go.
She shakes her head but stops and gazes out at the ocean. “Why don’t we walk over to the beach when I’m done eating. Have you eaten?”
“I have, and I’d love to! It’s so nice out there with the constant breeze. This heatwave is miserable.”
“Yes, the air conditioner isn’t really very good, is it?” Mom saunters back to the kitchen, and I follow, thinking it might be because I leave the door ajar for the cat that the air doesn’t work well.
Queeny curls around my legs as I watch Mom grab her food out of the microwave, stir it, and take it to the little table. I grab a sparkling water from the fridge and sit across from her.
“How’s the movie going?” she asks.
I almost burst into tears. It’s the first time she’s asked me. But I’m afraid if I make a big deal about it, she’ll run and hide in her room again, so I answer like it’s no big deal.
“It’s more difficult than I expected. It’s hard work. Long days. Even with my limited hours on set because I’m a minor. I can’t imagine what it’ll be like after I turn eighteen and those limitations don’t matter anymore.”
“Isn’t there another seventeen-year-old on the set with you?”
“Yes. Her birthday is after mine. She won’t be of age during filming.”
Mom looks around the living room. “You’ve done a good job settling us in. You even hung pictures.”
I nod, blushing at the hole in the wall from my second attempt. I watched videos about how to hang pictures and bought a stud finder, so now we have more decorations hanging. “I’ve tried to make it comfortable.”
“It was nice to come out of my room and see you sitting so precariously on the chair. I wanted to tell you not to lean back like that, but well, I didn’t want to scold you after all you’ve done.”
I can’t help the tears that flood my eyes, even if they do scare her away. She sees them and reaches over to pat my hand.
“I’m going to try harder, Ari. You deserve for me to try harder.”
“There’s a grief counseling group that meets just a block away.” I hate that I’m so afraid to say anything to Mom for fear she’ll scurry back into hiding. But this is an important conversation. One I’ve been waiting weeks to have with her.
She nods as she stares at the table. “I don’t think I’m ready for that yet. Right now, I’m afraid of going across the street to the beach with you. But, I will work toward that. Is that okay?”
I burst into tears. Covering my mouth like that might protect her from hearing the worst of it. “I’m sorry. I’m just really happy to hear that.”
Her tears fall silently, while I battle against the sobs fighting to escape. She squeezes my hand lightly. Her expression is so sad. “I’m so sorry, Ari. I’m so sorry I left you to deal with all of this.”
“I don’t care, Mom. I just want you back. Whatever it takes. However long you need. Just please, come back.”
“I’m gonna try.”
She doesn’t eat much, and I must splash water on my face to wash away the salt that made my skin stiff, but then we head outside. After being in bed for almost three quarters of a year, she’s forced to move slow, but I’m happy to stand next to her and hold her hand while she finds the strength to take her next step. We don’t make it across the street to the beach. There’s no way she could cross the street before the light turned red. But we stand on the corner so she can watch the rollerbladers, skateboarders, shopping cart pushers, bicyclists, and tourists. We laugh when a gal walks down the sidewalk on stilts, and I point out a man with a chest of tattoos and a live iguana resting on his shoulder. On our way back up the stairs, I begin to worry that she won’t be able to make it all the way. Her eyelids are literally drooping when she stops to rest on each step. She’s not much taller than me, and she can’t weigh much anymore. Maybe I can give her a piggyback ride. But in the end, it just takes a lot of patience and effort. I help her to her room, and we agree that she will change into her pajamas later. I slip her sandals off and tuck her under her sheet, happy to see a smile of accomplishment on her face as she fades into sleep.
Alone in the living room, I collapse onto the couch, astounded by the turn of events. My head drops onto the back of the couch, and I let the tears fall all over again.
Chapter Fourteen
Though I haveto agree to a lot of rules, I get the approval to start my behind-the-scenes podcast surprisingly fast.
