12. The Phone Call #2
I took the seat next to her bed and gently picked up her hand in both of mine. A tear fell down my cheek as I waited for a sign that she knew I was there. When she didn’t open her eyes, I glanced up at the nurse for answers.
“She’s been tired, but I think she can hear you,” the nurse said. “Go ahead and talk to her.”
And with a comforting pat on the shoulder, the nurse left us alone. Machines beeped all around us. Reality crashed down around me, making more tears spill down my cheeks.
The first thing I did was give Mom’s hand a little squeeze.
It was our signal when I was a kid. In church, whenever I was afraid or needed to be close, I took her hand and gave it a squeeze.
It was our sign for her to put her arm around me so everything felt okay again.
It worked while I was a child, but as a teenager who could never please my parents, I stopped going to either of them for comfort. I went to Paul instead.
Swallowing back the feelings from the past, I said the first thing that came to mind. “Mom? It’s me, Maggie. I know it’s been a long time, but when I heard you were sick, I came right away to see you.”
When I gave her hand another squeeze, Mom’s eyes fluttered and opened slowly. Her lips parted, but no words came out.
Looking on her tray, I saw a cup with a straw and a pitcher of water. “Do you need some water?”
She gave me a nod, so I lifted the cup in front of her to help her drink.
When I moved it away, a little smile tugged at her thin lips. “Maggie?”
Setting the cup down, I took her hand in mine again, leaning forward to place it on my cheek. “Yeah, Mom. It’s me. I came back. Uncle Isaac said you were sick. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
She let her head fall to the side, facing away from me.
“I didn’t think it would be fair to ask you to come back.
You’re busy at work, you’ve got the life you always wanted, and …
” She trailed off, taking a few breaths before she met my eyes.
“I’m dying, Maggie. You shouldn’t have to watch that.
I was selfish to ask your father to message Isaac to tell you, but I wanted to see you again. ”
Tears blurred my eyes. “Hey, don’t say that. You’re so young. You have so much more life to live.”
“You have to know that sending you to live with your aunt and uncle was mostly about getting you on track to have a good job and a secure future. A few years ago, I knew something was wrong, but I ignored the signs until I passed out, they took me to the hospital, and found out I was in stage three.”
My jaw fell. “Why didn’t you tell me then? Why didn’t you get help sooner?”
“I was scared,” she admitted. “And I kept it from you because I didn’t want you to see me go through treatments, lose my hair, and feel awful.
Knowing you were there in Chicago with a good job, where your aunt and uncle were there for you, was a comfort to me.
You were doing well on your own. Your father has been on edge because of my health, so I didn’t want to cause even more of a rift between you two. ”
I blew out a breath. “Oh, Mom. I wish you would have told me.”
She pursed her lips. “It’s not a mother’s job to worry her daughter.”
I rose and slipped into bed beside Mom, holding her close. “There’s not enough time to say everything I want to say.”
A tear of hers fell onto my hair. “We’ll have enough time to say the important things.” She paused, softly stroking my hair. “So, when are you going to see Paul?”
“I’m not here to see Paul,” I said, cuddling into her side.
“Oh, dear girl,” Mom said, citing one of the phrases she said when she was frustrated with me as a child. “The world works in mysterious ways. Do you think it’s a coincidence that he’s never dated anyone? Or even took a date to a wedding in town?”
I swiped a tear from my nose. “He doesn’t care for me that way, Mom. He made that perfectly clear.”
Her laughter surprised me. “You’re kidding, right?”
Clearing my throat, I sat up a little. “He never did kiss me all those years ago and he never wrote to me the last seven years. If he loved me, he wouldn’t have rejected me in every possible way.”
“Oh, my,” she whispered, her eyes softening.
I studied her eyes, but I couldn’t read her expression.
She tucked some hair behind my ear. “I didn’t expect that much maturity from a teenage boy. Don’t you see what that meant?”
“No,” I whispered. “I guess not.”
“He loved you so much that he let you go.”
Surely, that couldn’t be. I mean, I’d heard the expression if you love someone, let them go and they’ll come back if it was meant to be. I mean, everyone heard that, but it didn’t track. He would have had to tell me he cared about me before I left, and he never did.
Before I could process that, a harsh voice startled me. “Here already, I see.”
Steeling myself for the interaction, I stood from the bed. “Father.”
His expression was stern. “Margaret May Roth.” Using my full name and trying to intimidate me wasn’t really new for Father. It was kind of his thing. And I was wearing pants, a sin in his eyes.
Keeping hold of Mom’s hand, I faced him. “I came as soon as I heard Mom was sick. You could have called me, you know. I think she’s more important than a grudge, don’t you?”
His eyes flared at my words, but he didn’t lose his temper. He rarely did, especially not in front of Mom and because he was one of the chaplains here at the hospital. “We’ll discuss it at home.”
“I won’t be staying under your roof on this visit. I reserved a room at Louisa’s place down the road. I want to be close to visit Mom as often as I can,” I explained.
He sat in a chair on Mom’s other side. “Maybe this is the way it was meant to be then. Talking here with your mother between us to temper things.”
Mom shook her head. “There’s nothing to discuss.
She’s here now, we love her, and we’re proud of her.
That’s all that matters. Put the past aside.
It’s irrelevant. I want her here, and you, too, Dale.
I want my family here with me in my last days and to know that when I’m gone, the bond between you two is strong enough to sustain without me. ”
My throat felt like it was closing again. “Don’t talk that way, Mom. You’re going to get better.”
She gave me a small smile. “I hope you’re right, but if I don’t, I need to know the two of you will still be a family without me.”
Sitting next to her, I held her hand in both of mine. “I love you both. That’s all that matters, right?”
Father grumbled something, but he took Mom’s hand and pressed it to his lips. His devotion to her I never questioned. This must be killing him. As tears threatened to spill again, I sat with my parents and let silence veil the rift between us.