Page 18 of You Had Me At Thirteen

‘Look at me,’ she says, wiping the back of her hand over her chin. ‘I’m a mess.’

I take the glass and place it back on the bedside table. ‘You’re fine. The doctor said the medication would have some side effects, remember?’

The side effect list is a kilometre long, but Mum only has a few of them – tremors, nausea and constipation – but once she is cancer-free, those side effects will go away too. At least that’s the plan. This is the second month of treatment, and so far, she seems fine. Her next scan is in a week, so until then, I’m choosing to believe the drugs are working. I don’t want to think what it will mean if they aren’t. More like, I can’t.

‘I know.’ She places her hands back in her lap, running her fingers over the cover of her book. ‘You’re too good to me.’

‘Well, I have to be, otherwise I’d be homeless.’ I try my best to smile, but I’m sure it falls flat.

‘Hilarious,’ Mum says, a small smile playing on her lips. ‘You should be a comedian.’

‘Nah, I’m too good looking for that.’

‘And humble.’ Mum pinches my cheek. Maybe I don’t need to scream my love after all. She knows.

‘Do you need anything else?’

She shakes her head. ‘No, thank you sweetheart, you’ve done enough.’ Tears well up in her eyes before she blinks them back, and the meaning behind her words isn’t lost on me. She’s not stupid, but she lets me do what I need to do, if only to avoid an argument.

I rub the back of my neck. ‘Listen, before I go, there’s a party on next Friday night…’

Mum waves a hand in front of her. ‘Go have fun. I’ll be fine. It’s your last year of high school, Wren. You should be out enjoying it, not here looking after your mother.’ She grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze.

I imprint into my brain, the touch of her clammy skin against mine. ‘I don’t mind hanging out here with you.’

‘I know,’ she says. ‘But you should go. It’ll be good for you. And maybe that girl will be there?’ She wiggles her eyebrows at me.

‘Nice try, lady. Not happening.’

Mum exaggerates a sigh. ‘I’ll get you to talk to me one day.’

‘I’m talking to you now.’

She squints at me. ‘You know what I mean.’

‘I know. Anyway, I’m off to bed.’ I kiss her cheek. ‘Good night.’

‘Night, sweetheart.’ She gives my hand another squeeze, then picks up her book again, opening it to the last page she was reading.

As I walk to the door, I take my time. When we first moved here, I hated it. I spent most of my sleeping hours during the first three weeks in this room because Mum decided she wanted to paint my room, make it fresh so I didn’t despise this house so much.

I argued it had nothing to do with the house, and everything to do with the fact that my parents dragged me away from my previous life. Didn’t they remember what it was like to be a teenager?

Anyway, Mum insisted that with a bit of fresh paint and a room makeover, I’d move on and deal with the change. She set to work, painting my room, hanging curtains and buying furniture. At first, I thought she was wasting her time, but by the time she finished, I didn’t hate it so much. My room became my new favourite place, especially when I got to see what was on the other side of the window.

Mum’s focus remains on the pages in front of her, so she doesn’t notice me lingering. Her dark hair is thinning, and the greys are more pronounced, but she still has some brightness left in her hazel eyes, which gives me some hope.

What I don’t want to think about is what happens when that brightness fades.

NINE

Matilda

* * *

The scent of pancakes wafts up from the kitchen and into my room. I’m ready for school in a matter of minutes, jumping stairs two at a time as I race to greet my mum and fill my stomach with pancakes smothered in butter and maple syrup.

Mum sits at the island bench, a knowing grin on her face when I enter the kitchen. She’s still in her blue scrubs as she presses her lips to a giant mug of coffee. ‘I wondered how long it would take you to sniff those out.’ She nods towards the stack of pancakes in the centre of the island bench.

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