Page 78 of Let’s Be Real

He responded before I could knock on our mom’s door.

Adrian: Yeah, you not sleeping is another thing we need to talk about. I’m adding it to the list. You don’t get to hide this kind of thing from us.

Me: Not hiding anything. I’m putting my phone down now. I’ll text you later.

Slipping my phone back into my pocket, I knocked on Louise’s door. Within moments, her nurse had let me inside and I was sitting across from my mother.

She was even more frail than the last time I’d seen her, but smiled like she was the picture of health when she laid eyes on me.

“You’re here,” she said. “I wasn’t sure you’d come back.”

“I’m here.”

Some of the sparkle left her gaze as she looked me over and slowly shook her head, tsking. “Oh, Nate, you don’t look great.”

A dry laugh emerged from me like a cloud of dust. “You’re one to talk.”

But as withered as she was, as weak and brittle, she had a lightness to her I found myself jealous of. And it wasn’t often I felt that way.

Feeling jealous of a dying woman…I wasn’t going to examine any more closely. That was dangerous territory.

She snorted. “I’ll get my second wind any day now.”

“Sure. Any day.” I nodded toward her nurse, who was keeping herself busy in the kitchen. “Are they keeping you comfortable?”

She lifted her shoulder, and it took great effort. “There’s not much comfort to be found anymore. Most days, I feel like my bones are going to burst through my skin at any moment. But they’re taking good care of me, if that’s what you mean. And I’m on enough painkillers to put down an elephant. That’s something too.”

“Good.” I nodded sharply. “That’s good.”

“I’d offer you some to take the edge off, but I kind of need them.”

That had me laughing again. This time, in bemusement. How could she even joke when she was facing her end like a runaway train? “Thanks for the thought.” I dragged my fingers through my hair. “I haven’t been sleeping.”

“That explains the shadows.”

“Yeah.”

We looked at each other, and though my sadness was present, it was dull. Standing behind the curtains, barely peeking out. I’d mourned this woman long ago. Cried and cried, asking the unanswerable question: why hadn’t I been good enough to make her stay?

The person across from me barely resembled my mother. I didn’t know her. But still, I wanted something from her. I didn’t know what, but then again, I’d never been able to keep up with my own thoughts.

“You look like you have a question or something to say,” she said.

“I might. I’m not sure what I can ask.”

She stacked her hands in her lap, shifting minutely. “As long as I’m here, I’m an open book to you.”

The why of it all was always on the tip of my tongue, but she’d already answered that. I wasn’t satisfied with her reasons for leaving and staying away, but I sensed I was at a dead end there. Nothing she told me would ever justify her abandoning us.

So, I settled on—“Did you have another relationship after Dad?”

She rolled with my punches. “I did. It took a lot of healing before I was willing to even try. And in the end, it wasn’t on purpose. She was my best friend. Rebecca. I’d never thought of myself being with a woman…but it had been as natural as breathing.”

I took that in. Not just my mother being with a woman, but that she’d had a partner at all. I wasn’t great at reading other people’s emotions, even when they were written all over their faces, but even I couldn’t miss her wistfulness.

Despite it all, she’d found someone who’d made her feel that way.

“Were you a good partner to her?” I asked.