CHAPTER 3
Maddie
I should be dead.
I fell asleep twice on the way home. Waking up just as your car is swerving into oncoming traffic really gets your blood pumping, let me tell you.
And after the first time, I thought for sure I was wide awake, but then it happened again.
One of these days, I won’t wake up in time.
I wonder if being dead is anything like sleeping.
If it is, make my coffin pink and bury me now, because I’d do just about anything to get more rest.
A customer stayed past closing again. I hate that. I have so little time as it is, so every precious minute counts, and the last thing I need is to be getting home at this hour.
As I walk through the front door, I wish I could go straight to my room and collapse.
But that’s a fantasy I simply can’t afford.
There always seems to be too much to do.
Like right now. Before I round the corner, I already know what to expect in the kitchen.
I toss my car keys into the wood bowl sitting atop the entryway table, then confirm my suspicions.
Standing under the archway that leads to the dining area, I let out a long sigh in defeat.
This time I was wrong—it’s worse than I imagined.
The sink is completely full of dirty dishes, the trash is overflowing, there’s food on the table, and the countertops are disgusting. I want to scream. Why am I the only one who cleans around here?
But as bad as the mess is, the kitchen cleanup will have to wait until after I check on Mom.
As I pass the laundry room, I notice piles of dirty clothes strewn everywhere, which reminds me that I’ll need to throw a load of my own in tonight.
I stop and take a second to check. Yep, the washer is full of wet clothes.
And yep, just as I suspected, the dryer is empty.
Why am I not surprised? They’re my brother’s clothes.
Guess I’ll put them in the dryer for him.
It’s a small thing, but still, why couldn’t he finish his own laundry instead of leaving it for me?
I find Mom sitting up in bed, playing solitaire on a special hospital table that swivels around to hover over her lap.
She’s not wearing her scarf. Her baldness always takes my breath away.
You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but I don’t know how you get used to something like that.
She looks so frail and emaciated. Breast cancer is a real bitch.
Right after she was diagnosed, Mom insisted that I get tested for the brCA gene. I don’t know who was more relieved when the test came back negative, me or her.
“Did you take your meds?” I ask with a forced smile as I step into her room. To see her like this pains me down to my very core.
“Oh, you’re finally home,” she says with a hand over her chest. Apparently, I startled her, but her smile lets me know she’s relieved to see me. Then she does what I love most. Her thin arms, with IV ports taped to them, reach out. “Come give your mother a hug.”
Like I said, this is my favorite part of my hectic days.
I pull her table out of the way, careful not to disturb her cards.
As I lean down, I have to be gentle and not squeeze too tight.
She’s lost so much weight that there’s not much of her left to hug.
But it’s still nice. Her body is still warm, and that’s a blessing I don’t take lightly.
Still, she’s just wasting away, and I don’t know what to do about it.
There has to be something, right? But what?
I check her oxygen. The doctor said to keep it at two liters, but she seems to do better at three. I turn it up a little more, all the way to four this time to see if it’ll make a difference.
Next, I bend over to fluff her pillow. “Mom, did you take your meds?”
She rubs the back of her neck, a reminder of her constant aches and pains. “I took my morning and afternoon pills. And before you ask, I didn’t forget my evening pills. I was just about to take them.”
I believe her. She’s been good about taking them lately. Thank goodness I don’t have to worry about that anymore. “Hold on, I’ll get a glass of water.”
I head back to the kitchen with thoughts of strangling my dad and brothers.
Mom has been alone in that room since I left this morning.
She’s alone all day, every day, and it breaks my heart.
Why am I the only one who spends time with her?
I’m with her as much as I can be, and I still wish I could do more. Why don’t they feel the same?
I return with the water and help with her meds. She has a hard time swallowing the larger pills, so I break them in half with a device I found online. There are a lot of pills, and I have to give them to her one at a time.
“Did you eat anything today?”
“I had some oatmeal this morning, and later I had half a tuna fish sandwich.”
“Mom, we talked about this. You have to eat more.” It’s the same conversation every night. “How about some eggs and hash browns? You always liked that.”
“Maybe. I’m not really—”
“I’ll be right back.” She was about to tell me she’s not hungry, but I don’t care. She has to eat.
I poach two eggs and place them on a pile of hash browns I just finished frying, then add two slices of toast with honey to the plate.
She used to love this, but she doesn’t seem to care for a lot of her favorite dishes anymore.
Hopefully, eggs and hash browns will appeal to her today. She needs her energy.
After she’s eaten as much as I can get her to, about a measly third of what was on her plate, I take a seat at my sewing machine.
I set up my dressmaking station in her room so we can talk while I work.
I love the time we get to spend together, and I think she does too.
She taught me how to make clothes. Dresses were her specialty, and I found there are plenty of girls who want something special, so I never seem to run out of customers.
It’s a little after ten and I can hardly keep my eyes open.
Mom finally fell asleep. It’s the same every night.
I can’t help it. I always have to watch her for a moment to make sure her chest is moving up and down.
I don’t know what I’d do if she stopped breathing.
I don’t think my heart could take it. She has to find a way to beat this thing. She just has to.
To my relief, she’s breathing just fine. Now comes the familiar routine. I turn my sewing machine off and tuck her in. After pulling her blanket up, I kiss her forehead with a soft whisper, “I love you, Mom.”
I turn off her light and wander down the hall back to the kitchen.
I’ve been working on laundry throughout the evening, so at least that’s done.
Now I just have an entire kitchen to clean.
If I hurry, it shouldn’t take more than an hour.
I like to get to bed before midnight, then I’ll start again at four in the morning. The dresses won’t make themselves.
Mom is usually up by three-thirty, so she’ll be wide awake by the time I return to her room. She sleeps only a few hours at a time, but at least she naps throughout the day.
As I walk into the kitchen, to my surprise my phone pings. Who would send me a text at this hour?
Rhonda: Did you open it yet?
Open what? I look at the stack of envelopes on the kitchen table.
Sure enough, one is from Ms. Southerby. She could have brought what she calls our “special bonuses” to the store and handed them to us in person, but she’s seventy-one and loves envelopes with Disney-themed stamps.
April is her bonus month. Rhonda and I think it’s because it’s when she files her taxes.
Whatever her reason, it’s the same every year—a fifty-dollar gift card with a handwritten note.
Maddie: Not yet. Why?
Rhonda: Open it!
What’s she so excited about? I consider it for a second. Business has been good lately. Maybe there’s an extra fifty dollars this year. Lord knows I could use it.
Maddie: Hold on.
As soon as I open the envelope, my jaw drops nearly all the way to the floor.
Temporarily immobilized with shock, I find myself standing rigid, staring in disbelief, barely able to comprehend what I’m looking at.
A plane ticket to California, along with a car rental?
For what? And there’s more! A reservation for a four-day weekend at a resort called Antelope Lodge.
There’s a brochure. My fingers are trembling as I pull it open.
It says it’s a ski resort in Yosemite National Park, and the photos make it look…
luxurious! As I flip through the pages, I don’t understand any of this.
There’s even a heated pool and seven hot tubs.
Seven? Holy shit! What is all this? Old Ms. Southerby has never done anything like this.
In fact, I would have sworn she wasn’t capable of it.
With a suspicious eye, I check everything again.
Is this some kind of joke? Then my gaze falls back on the giant hot tubs, and I can’t help hoping the whole thing is somehow real.
I’ve experienced a hot tub one time in my boring life. It was at a party I went to with Jake. Relaxing in water that was almost too hot for comfort while getting the most amazing massage from the water jets made me feel like royalty. I remember wishing it could last forever.
That was back when I was in love with Jake.
The hot tub belonged to one of his coworkers at the lumber mill.
While he and his friends got drunk and ran around doing stupid stuff with a bunch of fireworks, I just sat there in that bubbly heaven, by myself with my head tilted back, eyes closed, enjoying the whole thing while thinking it was the best night of my life.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice something else in the envelope. As I pull it out, my breath leaves my lungs. A check for five hundred dollars!
I grab my phone.
Maddie: Is this real?
Rhonda: Yeah, can you believe it? I’ve never been on a plane before.