Her mother huffed. “I managed without you living here for seventeen years, you know.”
“Yes, and I have no idea how you survived. Besides, I like to cook.”
“But you do so much for me already.”
Eva squeezed her mother’s shoulder gently. “You know I don’t mind. How about we cook together tonight?”
“Okay.”
“I’ll be back soon—do not start without me.” Eva gave her one last squeeze before jogging up the stairs, swapping her pencil skirt and stained blouse for leggings, a sports bra and a loose-fitting top.
Back downstairs, she pulled on her trusty running shoes, lacing them with Franklin peering at her hopefully. “Come on.”
Eva reached for his harness, and she slipped it onto his wriggling frame with practiced ease. Her earbuds sat on the table by the front door, and, once they were in and connected to her phone, her carefully curated running playlist sounding in her ears, Eva stepped out the front door with Franklin at her side.
She shivered as the cool air hit her skin, but Eva knew she’d soon be grateful for it. Once they were at the end of the street Eva broke into a light jog, enjoying the wind on her face. Eva pushed herself faster, until her lungs were burning. Running had always been her release, the sound of her feet pounding on the sidewalk bringing her a sense of calm nothing else could.
Wary of staying out too long, she turned back after fifteen minutes. Her mother was still by the television when she returned, but soon joined Eva in the kitchen, the wheels of her wheelchair squeaking on the linoleum.
“What do you want?” Eva poked her head into the refrigerator. She needed to go shopping—the shelves were getting bare. “Salmon pasta?”
“Sure.”
Eva passed her mother the bag of fusilli and tried not to be obvious about keeping an eye on her when she moved out of her chair to stand at the counter, checking how steady she was on her feet.
“I’m not fragile, you know. I’m not at the point where I can’t stand yet.”
Clearly, Eva hadn’t been subtle, and she averted her gaze, concentrating on preparing the salmon. “And hopefully you never will be.” Her mother’s multiple sclerosis had worsened in the two years since Eva had come to help look after her, but the doctors were optimistic about her long-term prognosis.
Something her mother found hard to share.
And Eva understood it. The two of them were similar, particularly when it came to their independence, and Eva, too, would hate becoming reliant on another person. Her mother had vehemently resisted the idea of Eva moving back in—but they shared their stubbornness, too, and Eva had given her little choice in the matter.
Moving from Washington D.C. to the suburbs of Chicago—giving up her dream job and her girlfriend in the process—had never been part of her grand plan, but Eva didn’t regret it.
She’d missed her mother when she’d been across the country. Missed nights like this, a pan sizzling on the stove, her mother chattering away about her day while Eva stirred with a wooden spoon.
“Angela has a neurologist appointment on Thursday so she’s coming over tomorrow instead,” her mother said when they sat to eat. “You can stay late at school if you like.”
“Okay. Are you going out somewhere?”
“No, there’s a new Netflix show we want to watch.”
Eva shook her head. She worried about her mother spending too much time indoors, growing more reclusive as she deteriorated. Joining an MS support group was supposed to help, not encourage it, though she was glad her mother was making friends.
“Will you remind me how to set it up again before you go to bed?”
“I’ve shown you a million times, Mom.”
“I know, but I always forget.”
“Want me to write you some instructions? Step by step, like I give my students when they’re struggling with a problem?” Eva said, laughing as her mother’s eyes narrowed into a signature Thomas glare. “I’ll take that as a no.”
“As you should. Anyway, you can’t get on my case about not getting out more. When was the last time you went somewhere other than work?”
“I got those new toys for Franklin at the weekend.”
“I meant with another person, Eva.”
