Chapter 50
Summer stifled a yawn and opened the driver’s window a crack. Chill air rushed past her face, but she yawned again. A week of traveling back and forth to visit Mama at the hospital in Brampton was starting to take a toll on her. She rubbed her eyes and turned up the volume on the radio, wishing Benjamin could have come along today. But he had to work—and besides, if he had come, they would have taken his new car, and it still made her sick every time she rode in it, to think of him giving up his Gremlin for her.
He’d tried a few times to convince her to use the money for a dance studio, but there was no way she could do that, not when that car had been his pride and joy. She wasn’t going to be responsible for taking that from him. He would only resent her for it one day.
Wearily, she pulled into the hospital parking lot and found a spot near the door. The moment she turned the engine off, she let her head fall back on the seat and closed her eyes.
She didn’t realize she had drifted off until she startled awake. Heart pounding, she grabbed her phone to check how long she’d been asleep, then let out a relieved breath. It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes.
She opened her door and marched toward the hospital. The doctor had said yesterday that he might discharge Mama today, and Summer hadn’t yet decided if she should hope for that or not. It was certainly easier not to have to travel to the hospital every day. But Mama had been so much more . . . not pleasant, exactly, but restrained, while she was here. Plus, at the hospital, she didn’t have access to the alcohol that was killing her.
Inside, Summer headed for the elevator, sneaking in right before the door closed. A woman who might have been in her late thirties offered Summer a tired looking smile, and Summer returned it, feeling a sudden sense of solidarity. The elevator jolted to a start, and Summer grabbed at the railing as her stomach lurched.
“This thing is awful, isn’t it?” the other woman said.
Summer nodded, though she wasn’t sure if the woman meant the elevator or the whole experience of being at the hospital.
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. The woman disappeared in the opposite direction of where Summer needed to go.
A nurse greeted her cheerfully when she reached Mama’s room. “We’ve got your mama almost ready to go. I’m going to help her into a wheelchair, and if you want to grab her bag, I’ll walk y’all out.”
Summer braced herself for a big to-do from Mama as the nurse moved to her side, but Mama remained quiet and meekly let the nurse wrap an arm around her and support her into the chair. It struck Summer suddenly how frail Mama looked. She picked up Mama’s bag and followed the nurse back to the elevator. There was no one else on it this time, and the nurse kept up a friendly chatter about the weather on the way down. But Summer remained as silent as Mama.
Outside, she pulled the car up to the door, and the nurse helped her get Mama tucked inside. The drive home was blessedly quiet, and Mama only grunted her assent when Summer said they’d stop to pick up her new prescription on the way home.
By the time she pulled into Mama’s driveway, Summer felt like she needed another nap. But first she needed to get Mama settled.
She walked around to the passenger side of the car and opened the door, reaching in to help her mother.
“I can do it myself,” Mama snapped, and Summer stepped back.
But halfway to the house, Mama looked like she was about to topple over, and Summer wrapped an arm behind her, taking Mama’s elbow with her other hand. Mama grunted but didn’t say anything as she leaned into Summer.
It took Summer a moment to fumble with the keys, but as soon as she had the door open, something putrid hit her nose. “What’s that smell?” she choked.
“I don’t smell anything.” Mama stumbled toward her chair, and Summer tried to help her, but her eyes fell on something green and gray and fuzzy on a plate that still sat on the TV tray next to the chair.
“Oh.” She clapped a hand over her mouth as her stomach turned over.
She got Mama into the chair, then snatched up the plate and rushed to the kitchen with it, careful to avert her eyes from the moldy blob in the center of it. But she couldn’t escape the smell, and she gagged a few times until she managed to drop it into the garbage and cinch the bag tight. Breathing roughly, she held the bag as far in front of her as she could and carried it out to the trash can behind the house.
She stood outside, sucking in deep breaths of fresh air, until her stomach was settled and she was pretty sure she wouldn’t gag anymore. Then she went into the kitchen, washed her hands, and brought Mama’s pills and a glass of water to the living room.
Mama eyed her as she took the offering. “You pregnant?”
Summer startled. “What? No.”
Mama pressed her lips together. “Never saw you get so squeamish over a little mold before.”
“A little mold? That—whatever it was—was foul. And the smell—” She shuddered.
“I didn’t smell anything,” Mama said again.
“Then you should get your nose checked. I have to go pick Max up. Mia has class tonight.” She made sure the remote was within Mama’s reach, then headed for the door. “Call if you need anything. And please don’t drink.”
As Summer pulled the door open, Mama called, “I hope you’re not. For your sake.”
“Not what?” Summer hovered in the doorway.
“Pregnant,” Mama said, as if it were obvious.
Summer rolled her eyes. She wasn’t going to give Mama the satisfaction of asking why she hoped that. Instead, she said, “I’m not,” and closed the door.