Page 85 of The Wallflower

I hang up the phone, grab my purse, and run out the door. Rushing to my car, I throw the door open, climb inside, and turn the key, bringing the engine to life. I back out of my spot and start toward the house. Part of me is angry. Why would she lie to me like that after all I'm doing to help her? But at the same time, fear gnaws at me from the inside that something is wrong, that something's happened to her. It will kill me if something has happened.

I race through town, watching for cops so I don't get pulled over and screech into my mom's driveway. I slam the brake in place and rush to the door. Of course, it's locked, and my fingers are shaking so bad, I fumble with the keys to unlock the knob and the deadbolt.

Inside, I spot my mom on the couch, eyes closed, completely still. My heart drops into my stomach. "No." It comes out in a rush of breath. I slide on my knees across the old carpet to her side. "Mom."

I give her a shake, feeling the warmth of her skin. "Mom. Mom. Please wake up."

She flicks her eyes open slowly, then focuses, rearing back. "Baby, what's wrong?"

Slowly, she swipes at the tears I didn't notice on my cheeks. I bow my head against her hands and let the tears fall, my whole body shaking. "I'm sorry I thought...the doctor called me, and I thought something had happened."

I sit back on the floor and wipe my face while she sits up. "Baby, I..."

"Why did you lie to me?" I demand. "I would have been here to take you. I need to take you to these things so I feel like I'm doing something. Like I have some kind of control over what’s going on."

Her forehead wrinkles, and she tucks the blanket in around her tented knees. "I'm sorry, Bel. I don't know why I lied. I guess, I'm worried you’re throwing away your life and all your future opportunities for me. For what, a chance that I'll live another couple of years at most? You heard how experimental this drug is. I don't want you to throw away your life for me, and then I die anyway."

I hate hearing these words from her lips. I hate them so much that all I can do is lash out in anger. "Stop. Stop saying you're going to die. Medicine has progressed since the last time you were sick. You can beat this. You just have to fight it and stop fighting me. I want to help you, but I can’t if you refuse to listen to me.”

We sit in silence for a moment, and I hate the scared, defeated look on her face. I ease up on the couch beside her and lean my head against her chest like I did when I was a little girl. "I can't lose you, Mom. I'll do anything to keep you with me."

She hugs me tight, her arms wrapped around my body. "That's what I'm afraid of, baby, you doing anything and everything and regretting it a few years down the road."

I sink into her, let her hold me, and enjoy the scent of her shampoo and the way she feels comforting me, like she's always done. Every scraped knee, every heartbreak, all of it—she's beenthere for me. Now, I can be there for her, and she keeps pushing me away.

I pull back and look at her. "I understand your apprehension, Mom, but I’ll do anything to have another day with you. There’s no regret in being able to have more time with a loved one. If you’re up for it, the doctor says we can still go get your treatment." Standing now, I turn to face her. "Come on, I'll help you get cleaned up, and then we can go. Maybe stop for pancakes at the old diner while we’re out."

She frowns and gives me a look of defeat. What am I doing wrong? Is there something I’m missing? That she isn’t telling me? She’s so determined to give up. It makes me think there is more than what she’s shared. I help her up off the couch and then into the bathroom. Soon, I have her bundled into my car and on the way to the hospital.

I try to make small talk with her on the way, but she doesn't give me more than a few words or sounds.

At the hospital, I grab a wheelchair to make the long trek to the treatment room easier on her. Inside, the doctor shows up immediately with a smile on his face. "I'm so glad you girls could make it today, after all."

He sits across from us on a rolling stool and looks my mom over. "I'm glad you were okay. I was worried when you didn't take my calls."

My mom clears her throat and gives a wan smile. "I guess I slept right through them. I'm so sorry to waste your time, Doctor."

The doctor squeezes my mom's hand and shakes his head. "Don't you worry one bit about that. It's my job to take care of you, not the other way around."

Then just as quickly as he arrived, he spins on his stool, grabs the tablet off the counter, and makes a few clicks and swipes with his fingers. "Okay, we have you down to start a course of drugstoday to treat your illness. I’m obligated by law to tell you there is no guarantee it will work and that you are participating in an experimental trial."

My mom tenses beside me but keeps her eyes on the doctor, who continues his spiel.

"Now, with today's hiccup, I need to confirm that you still want to participate, and you agree that I've told you the warnings."

There's a long moment while I look back and forth between my mom and the doctor.Why isn't she saying anything?

The doctor cocks his head to the side. "Ma'am?" He holds out the tablet with the legal jargon and a place to sign. "If you agree, sign here, and we can proceed. I promise, it's a painless procedure, just a quick injection, and you can go home and rest. I'll have the nurse print out side effects and questions that might arise."

After a moment, my mom lifts her finger and scribbles on the tablet.

The doctor smiles, nods, lays the tablet on the counter, and moves to a small refrigerator by the door. He punches in a code and then opens it, pulling out a small vial.

I watch him bustle around the room, grabbing a few more things and taking his seat again, then depositing his handful on a small rolling tray.

He moves my mom's arm to the side of the chair and rolls up her long sleeve. There are small scars from all the IVs she's had lately, and seeing them makes my stomach clench.

The doctor chats away about some upcoming early fall snow while he fills a syringe and cleans my mom's skin with an alcohol wipe.

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