“I know you’re having your weekend away, so I hate to bug you.” His voice is quiet, like he’s trying not to let anybody overhear. “But Mom grabbed a hot pan and burned herself pretty good here, so uh, if you could come take a look at it.”
“Shit.” I watch Denver take a slow bite of melty ice cream in my periphery. “Yeah, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
He’s already out of bed and slipping into a pair of blue jeans when I hang up. And for a second, I do nothing except watch him with adoration.
“You gonna get dressed, or continue to eye-fuck me?” he quips. “Maybe do both at the same time, so we can get to your parents faster.”
“You’re coming with me?” I throw back the sheets, and stand to find my legs still wobbly from last night.
Covering the last traces of bare abdomen, he pulls the hem of his navy T-shirt down. “Of course I am, silly. One day you’ll understand how serious I am about being here for you.”
—
The antibiotic burn cream smooths across Mom’s blistered palm, and the muscles in her forearm contract under my touch in an attempt to pull away.
“Almost done, Mom. Those painkillers kicking in at all?”
“Maybe a bit,” she says through gritted teeth, clarifying thatno, they’re not kicking in.
Despite the pain of a second-degree burn—one which hopefully we’ll be able to keep from getting infected, so longas Dad and I can stay on top of her to ensure she doesn’t mess with the bandaging—she’s smiling and cheerful. The entire drive to town was tense as I prepared myself to deal with an indignant Alzheimer’s patient. Instead, I found my lovely mom sitting with a cool washcloth over her hand, watchingWheel of Fortunewhile eating a chocolate chip cookie, seemingly without the dementia fog clouding her memory and judgment.
She’s herself today.
Thank God.
“Thanks for taking care of your clumsy old mom, honey.” Her free hand brushes across my cheek, and I continue the methodical wrapping of her hand. Hopefully if it’s wrapped in the perfect way, it won’t annoy her, and she’ll be less tempted to rip it off. “I can’t believe I grabbed a cast-iron frying pan—Iknewyour dad had just used it to make breakfast, too, because I watched him cook it.”
“It’s our klutzy nature.”
“Thank God there’s a nurse practitioner in the family.”
“You just like that you didn’t have to waste a whole day going to the Sheridan hospital for this.”
“Thank you for taking care of me instead. I know it’s hard on you sometimes.”
With a gulp, I dare to look at her red-rimmed eyes. A crease is wedged between her eyebrows, and the corner of her smile falters for a mere second before coming on even stronger than before. It’s not genuine—I know the expression because I’ve worn it well many times. It’s a smile despite it all. A smile to spite it all.
“It’s fine, Mom. It’s totally fine—I went to school for medicine for a reason, right?”
“I don’t just mean the burn, although this part of it sucks a lot, too.” Her injured hand squeezes mine despite the bandages, and she blinks away the flash of pain in her eyes. “Ihate knowing you’re here when you should be out enjoying your life.”
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” My voice cracks—an unstable attempt at reassuring her again.
“Oh, bologna, Blair.” She laughs quietly, stealing my gaze as her eyes cut to the patio door. We’re both staring out at my dad and Denver relaxing under the summer sun, chatting over a beer in a pair of lawn chairs. “I know you’d rather be with him right now.”
“Honestly, I want to be with you.” The bandage tucks around her hand, and I release a pent-up exhale. “Good as new.”
“Thank you. Go have fun, and don’t skip out on another second with him. I know that’s where you’d rather be, although the lie was fairly convincing.”
Wanting to spend time with him on a day when Mom’s mind isn’t muddied, and the fog’s cleared, feels selfish. I should be taking advantage of the opportunity to be with her.
The one thing Denver and I regained when I moved home is time.
Time to learn each other again. Time to fall in love. Time to be together.
Time is the thing my mom fights every day, because there’s a constant countdown ticking in the back of our minds. A foreboding reminder that we don’t know how much she has left, but it’s insufficient.
“I know what you’re thinking, hon. But it’s okay to want to get back to your weekend plans with your boyfriend.” She winks, clearly grasping the full reality of my situation with Denver today—a nice change of pace from her typical confusion. “By some miracle, you’re one of the lucky ones who found their soulmate. Spend every second you can with him.”
