“Then you’re not sick or dying?”
“No.” She chuckled.
“Is this some kind of strange New Year’s resolution, then?” No, the weirdness had started at Thanksgiving.
“Son, I want us to have a relationship where we talk to each other. Where we share what’s important to us.”
“Since when?” He winced. Okay, even he could hear the skepticism and a stronger coat of bitterness than he’d realized existed within.
Was he ...madat his mom?
He’d always figured he loved her for who she was. A single mom who fed him, clothed him, and put food on the table. The fact that she didn’t do anything else wasn’t a shock to his middle-aged system. Only now he could feel anger stirring in the depths of his heart, and he didn’t like that one bit.
Whether it was because he didn’t want to be angry or because he’d have to deal with the source of his anger remained to be seen.
Get her off the phone first, then contemplate the phone call and her motives later.
“You’re right in thinking a sickness started it. But wrong that I’m seriously ill or dying.” She cleared her throat. “They found a lump in my breast, but after some biopsies and removing it, they determined the mass to be benign and not a threat to my health. Nevertheless, the whole ordeal put some things into perspective.”
Yeah, like how he had no clue his mom had gone through anything like that.
“When did you have the surgery?” he asked.
“Last September.”
“It’s January, Mom.”
She sighed. “Hence the reason I’ve been trying to connect more. I would’ve come to visit for Christmas, but you said Erykah wanted a quiet Christmas. When you got hurt,I wanted to come up and help, but you said you didn’t need it. So I’m calling instead.” She sounded almost hurt.
Despite hearing every word and listening to the tone of her voice and what she hadn’t said, Chris was having difficulty processing it all as true. “I’m not sure what to say.”
“How about we start with how youreallyfeel?”
Could he? Could he accept the step forward she offered? “About the leg or the phone calls?”
She let out a short laugh. “Pick one.”
“All right.” He paused. “I hate being dependent on crutches and that I can’t move as freely as I want.”
“That’s understandable. You’ve always moved about, even as a child. I used to discipline you by telling you to sit still.” She chuckled. “You couldn’t stand it, and I’m not ashamed to admit that amused me.”
They were sharing memories now? He didn’t actually remember his mom disciplining him. Yet he’d known as a kid and teen that he’d better not break a rule his mom had put in place. Guess that meant he’d have to have been disciplined to understand that. Cheye liked to test Erykah’s boundaries on a daily basis. That kid had to apologize so many times throughout the day it wasn’t funny. ... Okay, yes, it was.
“I believe that, because this feels like torture.” He waffled between wanting to move and help out and wanting to crawl right back into bed and complain about how painful this all was.Mentally, spiritually, and emotionally.He was exhausted in all the ways.
“Are you allowed to walk?”
“Not without the aid of the crutches. Still, my leg just hurts. I’m not sure if I’m not used to the crutches, or if this is all part of the healing process.”
“Did you know you can buy cushions for the crutches? If they’re bothering you so much, add more foam to them.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I’ll text you a link. I used some when I broke my foot a few years ago.”
“You broke your foot?” His mouth dropped open. “When? Where was I?”
“You were in Wyoming for some work thing, so I didn’t want to bother you. All I had to do was wear a boot and get through the pain. Now I’m simply waiting for arthritis to show up. It will, as old as I am.”
