Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rochelle
I watch from the front porch as Hunter’s car exits our lot and sigh in relief.
Well, that wasn’t so bad. I honestly don’t know why I dreaded it so long, or was worried he wouldn’t see past our little existence. I always knew he was different. I was just too scared to let my heart believe the truth.
With a smile, I turn to make my way back into the house. My heart feels lighter than it has in a long time. When I walk inside, I see my mother standing from her chair and rush to her side.
“Momma,” I scold. “I know you do this when I am not around, but if I am here you need to let me help you.”
She takes a few steps and leans on me for strength. I hold her up and help her walk towards the hallway, certain that she is going to the bathroom. But she makes a turn for her bedroom and I take each step with her into a room I can’t remember the last time I saw her use.
“He is a nice young man, Roshie!” She smiles, her breathing is labored. “He will take care of you.”
I help her to her bed and watch as she lowers herself into a spot I haven’t seen her sleep in in years. Even though I clean and wash the sheets weekly, hopeful that she will decide to make a change and forgo the recliner in the living room, she never does.
“He is a good man, Momma. The best I have ever known.” I confess as I help her by propping a few pillows up behind her head. I smile at her and pat her hand as she eases back against the bed. When I go to leave, she grabs hold of me, keeping me still.
“He can take care of you, make you not have to worry for nothing baby.” She says as her eyes sternly hold mine. Confused, I wonder just what she is getting at.
“Well I am sure there won’t be something along the way, but…
“Listen to me, Rochelle,” she barks out before a coughing fit interrupts us.
I wait patiently for it to subside. When it doesn’t, I rise and make my way to the kitchen to fetch her a glass of water.
Returning to the room, I hand it to her.
She drinks quickly before catching her breath. “He comes from a good family?”
“Yes, Momma. He does.” She nods in agreement as if she already knew the answer to my question. “But I don’t understand…”
“Don’t let him steal your heart if he’s not willing to fight for what matters most,” she whispers, her eyes search mine desperately. I know she is talking about what happened with my father, but I push back the emotions the thought evokes.
“I won’t, Momma. I promise.”
She nods her head and slowly lowers back to her spot against the pillows.
I sit with her for a moment, and take the glass out of her hand, setting it on the table beside her.
Peace becomes her, and soon I hear the sound of her slumber through the room.
Rising, I make my way to the hall and stop just outside her door.
Turning slowly, I take in my mother in this new way.
In her bed, as if the person she succumbed to being in that chair all of these years doesn’t define her anymore.
Something has changed. Something just Hunter’s presence alone has shaken up.
Dumbfounded, I stare at the woman before me and wonder what it could be.
Momma and I used to be closer, used to be inseparable back in Georgia.
But time, years, the West Coast, has forced a wedge between us.
A wall, I was never sure I could beat down again as I watched her resort to sitting in her chair day and night, waiting for me to come home, watching me leave, and never saying more than a few words to me daily.
I put the blame of the wall between us on my shoulders. I took it personally. Like maybe I wasn’t providing enough, or couldn’t care for her enough in her sick state.
But today, with him, it was almost as if she was putting on a show.
A show I am not sure I enjoyed watching.
Almost like… she knew him, heard of him, knows his contacts and where he comes from.
I never pegged Momma for that type, the kind that would care about names, titles, and money.
She always made me feel like we had enough because we had each other, at least she did in Georgia.
Now, watching her lay in a spot I haven’t seen her in in years, I can’t help but wonder why she’s suddenly trying? A sinking feeling settles in my stomach. It warns maybe there is a whole lot more I don’t know about the woman in front of me.