She lifts her head, and the look in her eyes will stay with me for the rest of my life.
“You might hate me for this, and you have every right to,” she says quietly. She swallows hard. “But one day, you’ll understand that I’m out of options.”
Taking a breath, she stands and walks toward me, her shaky hand reaching up to cup my cheek.
“You’re all I’ve got, baby girl. And when I’m gone, you’ll be alone. The streets are unforgiving, and I don’t want you to join me until you’re old and gray and have a million stories to tell me.”
A tear slides down her cheek as she talks. This is the closest she’s come to admitting she’s dying.
“Men will always take from you. It doesn’t matter if it’s on offer or not, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be smart about it. I can’t get you out of the game, but I can teach you how to play it. I can make it so you’re a key piece on the board, but you have to understand—safe doesn’t always mean happy. Happy can come later. Right now, safe is all that matters, okay?”
“Okay, Mama,” I say softly, trying to understand it all.
“Good girl.” She pulls me close and presses a kiss to my forehead. Her chest hitches, but this time, I don’t think it has anything to do with her cough.
“Now, let’s practice that walk again.”
I walk until my feet are sore and blistered, and she’s finally happy with the way I move. Later, when I’m lying in bed, I go over everything she’s ever told me, scared I’ll forget something. But my biggest fear is forgetting her.
Our relationship’s a mess. It’s so broken there’s no fixing it, even if we had more time.
We’re just two versions of the same story. She lost her parents too young, and now I’m losing her. I’m scared to my bones of what’s to come. But there’s still a tiny piece of me that hopes my story will have a different ending. That maybe one day,I’ll live in a big, fancy house with a handsome husband and a big dog that yanks my arm when I walk him.
We’d have pretty babies—two of them. A boy first, then a little sister. ‘Cause every little girl needs a big brother to protect her.
I roll onto my side and let my tears fall. I want a family so bad it hurts. My own happily ever after. I close my eyes and hope I fall asleep fast. My dreams are the only place I can escape all this.
I toss and turn until I finally fall asleep, and when the dreams come, they’re full of monsters. I wake up gasping, my heart racing and my body soaked with sweat. Then a chill runs down my back, and I’m covered in goosebumps––like something bad’s about to happen.
I climb out of bed, wincing at the cold floor under my bare feet. Grabbing a sweatshirt, I pull it on over my Hello Kitty pajamas and tiptoe down the hall to my mom’s room.
The second I open the door, my stomach cramps. It’s like all the color’s gone, and everything that made her room warm and safe has disappeared.
I walk over to her bed, my heart pounding. She’s lying so still, tucked under the blankets like Sleeping Beauty.
I reach out and touch her foot. “Mama?” I whisper.
When she doesn’t move, I walk around to her side and lean over her, holding my cheek above her nose, waiting to feel her warm breath on my skin.
But there’s nothing.
I fight down my panic and shake her. “Mama, wake up.”
I shake her harder. “Mama. Mama, please wake up.”
Tears run down my face and drip onto her cold skin.
“Please,” I beg. “I’m not ready. “I climb onto the bed and curl up beside her like I did when I was little. Wrapping my armaround her waist, I lay my head on her chest and hold my breath as I listen for the comforting thud of her heart.
But it’s silent.
I bury my face under her chin and breathe her in. Someday I’ll forget how she smelled—like licorice and coffee––like home. My tears come faster now, soaking her nightshirt as I cling to her.
It’s the silence that forces me to accept the truth. She’s gone, and I’m alone.
My chest hurts as I sob. I fist the fabric of her nightshirt, overwhelmed by sadness and so much anger.
Why her? Why me? What did we do to deserve this?
