"Thank you, Mrs. St. James."
"Now," she says, remaining in position in the door. My heart breaks a little, knowing she's standing there only because she needs the assistance. "What's this all about?"
"Oh, it's nothing," my dad answers before I can. "Penn is selling his old house and wanted to run a few things by an old friend."
She doesn't know? The relief consumes me. Already I feel this is all too much to carry. I couldn't possibly hold the weight of being upset with my dying mother.
My dad's eyes plead with me. Two different thoughts war within me.She should know!competes withWhy put that on her?
I look at Penn, and suddenly I want to cry. Scream, sob, fucking lose it. This dance we do to keep my mother happy, to facilitate the least painful end of life for her, is draining me.
Does Penn sense this? Read my mind? He must, because he steps up. Smiles his winningest smile, and I think if he'd given me that wide-mouth grin the first day at Summerhill, I would have recognized him in an instant. "I haven't given you a proper greeting, Mrs. St. James." He folds my fragile mom into a gentle embrace, saying, "It's been so long, and it's nice to see you again."
Her gaze sweeps to me, and she smiles. "He always was a good hugger," she remarks.
"The best," I confirm, and damn if there isn't a tear rolling down my cheek.
Penn pulls back, but stays close. "Selling an old house brings a unique set of problems, and I wanted to bend your husband's ear."
"Ahh," she nods, eager to accept the words. The last thing she needs are old transgressions paraded around. I understand my dad choosing not to tell her. I'm not any better.
"Pardon the interruption, folks," Bonnie says apologetically, peeking around my mom. "Ms. Brenda, it's time for your medication."
"It certainly is," my mother responds, sighing heavily. "I'm aching from head to toe."
My gaze collides with my dad's, a conversation passing between us.She will be gone, and it will be just us. We're not ready.
"Daisy," my mom says, like she's only just thought of something. "I can't wait to see you in my dress, baby girl. You're going to be a dream."
"You've already seen me in it, Mom," I remind her gently. "At the fitting."
"Ahh, yes, but the aisle and the flowers and your hair and makeup done makes all the difference. Tomorrow's not so long to go." She smiles, but her lips quiver. She's in pain.
Bonnie seems to understand. She loops an arm around my mom's, saying, "You just wait until you all see how I'm doing Ms. Brenda's hair for the wedding."
Penn twists a pinkie finger around mine, support I need. A reminder that he is here. "You can't be prettier than the bride, Mom," I tease, like there isn't a knife ribboning my heart.
Mom makes apshhhsound with her lips. "Such things are not possible."
I tell her I love her, and I kiss her sunken cheek.
Bonnie walks Mom away, making it look like they are going the same pace, when in reality she's leading. I look to my dad.In her absence, he's sobbing silently. I rush to him. I am so, so mad at him, furious. But this terrible pain he's in supersedes my anger.
"Dad." I wrap my arms around him.
"Just when I think I've come to terms with her dying, it hits me all over again." He dabs at his eyes with a tissue from the box on his desk.
"Me, too." I wipe at my wet cheeks.
"Daisy, I'm sorry for everything. For the way it all happened. I never wanted to hurt you, and I know you're looking back on it now and thinking I was in the wrong, but?—"
"You weren't totally wrong, Mr. St. James." Penn, an observer of the grief in the room, comes closer. "I don't like the way it all happened, and I have a lot of complicated feelings around it, but I don't think you were all the way right, or wrong." His eyes shine, so pure of heart, and I fall a little more in love with him. "If my life had continued on that way, there would've been a lot of mistakes in my future. Mistakes going far beyond taking my mother's car and crashing it with Daisy in it. Living the way I was, becoming a teenager with a mom who had checked out? She needed help, and there was no way I could've gotten her the help she needed."
Penn. Sweet, kind Penn with his good heart and his wry sense of humor and his openness to let me feel what I feel. I love him, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
I let go of my father, rounding the desk. My hands slip over Penn's shoulders, wrapping around his neck as I bring him to me for a hug. I breathe him in and I hold him close, and my heart feels like it's home.
My dad clears his throat. "Daisy?"
