I wrap my arm around Nan’s shoulder, walking with her to the front of the trailer where she left her scooter. I give her another hug, then we watch her head back toward the entrance of the park, trailing at the edge, doing her best to avoid potholes before disappearing around the corner.
She lived a few blocks over, it wasn’t too far for her to come and go, and I know she liked finding a reason to get herself out of the house.
I spin around, ready to eat Nan’s pasta bake and finish getting ready for the night when out of the corner of my eye, I see movement, the cream gauze fabric at the front window of the trailer shifting before slipping back into place. The slight creak of a door follows, then my mother slowly emerges through the opening.
Her pale skin looks paper thin and lifeless, and I know she notices that we are staring at her bruised and tracked arms when she curls one across her body, sliding the plain gray crewneck from the bend in her elbows to her knuckles. Her nails are lacquered the same hot pink as mine and Jade’s, only hers is almost completely chipped away. Her fingers curl and twist over the edge of the fabric.
The three of us were supposed to have a girls day last weekend. We watched a movie, painted our nails and ate too many sweets. But then it felt like it had finished before it had even started. When the closing credits began rolling, Mom snatched up her handbag and told us she needed to besomewhere.
Every week I clung to the hope that there'd be a change, but I knew deep down that Mom wanted to see Dad again, and I often wondered if succumbing to the needle took her there, to the entrance gates. I just wasn’t sure what kept pushing her back.
Was it Dad? It had to have been Dad.
Still alive, still breathing, meant she was still here for me, right? That I wasn’t alone?
It didn’t matter that most of my days were spent with her unconscious on our sofa. That I’d already somewhat adjusted to being alone.
“She looks like shit,” Jade mumbles beside me.
“Yep,” I reply, voice empty.
Jade’s fingers slide between mine, squeezing before slipping away. “I’m going to go grab the food.” She offers us her privacy.
And when Jade corners the trailer, I shuffle toward the ghost that used to be my mother, taking a seat on the cinder block step. I fall down next to her, and she wraps her small arms around me, dragging me into her side. My arms coil her waist, and I feel her lips touch the top of my head, her breath cool as she breathes over my scalp before letting go.
I match the way she sits, elbows to our knees, left hand supporting our chins.
“Is she okay?” Mom croaks, then clears her throat. She was talking about Nan, her mother.
I shake my head, sarcasm crawling across my face. “Funny that, she asked the same thing, Mom.”
When Mom doesn’t reply, I snap my gaze to her matching pale green orbs. “Why don’t you just talk to her? She’s so worried about you.”
Mom exhales, then runs her fingers through her tangled lilac-toned hair. It sits wispy and uneven around her bony chest.
“It’s always the same thing, Laik, you don’t?—”
I cut her off, “Because she fucking cares about you, Mom. We all do.”
My mother scoffs, then curls her right hand beneath the fabric on her left arm, scratching at her wrist. “Don’t swear, Laik.”
I push from the step and find that same pot plant I’d tripped over earlier, reeling my foot back and kicking it again.
Anger and confusion swirl through me.
“Why, Mom? Why are you doing this!?” I ask, voice heightened, arms wide.
A tear rolls down my mother’s cadaverous cheek and drops off the ledge of her chin. She pushes it away on the fabric at her bicep, leaving a wet trail of salty pain behind.
“I lost my best friend, baby.” Another tear, another swipe. “One day, when you meet that one person that sets your entire soul on fire, you’ll understand.”
I pause for a moment, trying to process sensibly what she’d really said.
I lost my best friend.And it breaks my goddamn heart.
Sympathy and softness replace the confusion and rage swimming through me and I exhale, falling back down beside her.
Mom reaches out, lacing her bony, trembling and freezing cold fingers with mine.
