Page 94 of Snowballed

I know he’s trying to be friendly and well-meaning, but every word he says is a stab into my body. I’m the magician’s assistant in a sword trick gone wrong.

I’m the reason she’s exhausted. I insisted we keep the farm each time she raised the subject of selling. I asked her to go into the barn—a place she associates with my father’s stroke—because I’m too pig-headed to show her any sensitivity.

I barely hear another word he says. Derek pokes me.

“Zoe, he says we can go in and see Mom.”

I shake my head. “I can’t face her. It’s all my fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I asked her to put the animals in the barn because I had a make-up exam. You know she hates the barn.” And now I know exactly how she feels. Seeing my mother lying on the floor of the barn was the worst moment of my life.

Derek shakes his head. “Stop being such a drama queen. It’s not always about you. Mom’s been in the barn lots of times.” He hesitates, and I sense something big is coming. Derek doesn’t like conflict, but he’s honest too. “But this wouldn’t have happened if she wasn’t still living on the farm.”

Which is my responsibility. “I’m doing most of the chores. She hardly has to do any extra work.”

My usual chill brother keeps getting angrier. “You’re not better than mom or me just because you work on the farm. The fact that we want to live our lives doesn’t mean we miss Dad less.”

“I’ve never said a word to you,” I protest.

“Yeah, but you act like I’m not doing my share. I’m twenty and if I want to party on weekends and sleep in, why shouldn’t I? You’re the one who needs to loosen up and have some fun.”

A nurse interrupts our argument. “If you want to see your mother, you don’t have long. She’ll be going to sleep soon.”

So we go into her room. Mom looks older in the hospital gown with a tube attached.

Derek walks over and hugs her in a completely natural way that I’ll never be able to mimic. When it’s my turn, my mother raises a hand and strokes my cheek. I clutch at her hand, but now I feel even worse.

“How are you doing?” I ask.

“I’ve been better.” She blinks at us. I’m pretty sure she’s on painkillers and not fully aware of what’s going on.

“You need to rest,” Derek says. “Don’t worry about anything. We’ll stay until you fall asleep and then come back in the morning.”

She nods and closes her eyes. Within ten minutes, she’s fast asleep.

It’s awkward between Derek and me as we leave my mother’s hospital room. All those things he said to me have probably been on his mind for a while.

He pulls out his phone. “Wags brought your car here. It’s at the hockey house.”

We walk across the campus in silence. We’re both exhausted, physically and emotionally.

“Are you okay to drive home?” he asks.

“Yeah.” Ordinarily, I’d take charge now, but I feel slapped down. “When do you think we should visit her tomorrow?”

“The doctor said she’d be having tests, so maybe after lunch? I’ve got morning classes, so I’ll go after that.”

“Okay. I’ll check my schedule, but I’ll probably spend the evening with her.” I’ll have to manage the farm work too, but I’m not going to mention it now that I know how he feels.

The drive home feels almost peaceful as my headlights pick out a few specks of snow on the quiet highway. Going back to the farm usually feels good, but now there’s a strange hollowness. Things have changed so much from when I was a kid, and the farm meant the pleasures of raising chicks, fishing in the pond, or eating a carrot just pulled from the ground. When did the farm I love become a heavy responsibility… and a battleground?

When I pull into the driveway, Noah’s car is still here.

I walk into the house, and he’s snoozing on the couch. As soon as he hears me, he sits up.

He blinks at me. “How’s your mom doing?” His familiar voice breaks something hard and cold inside me, but I’m wary. I make a big show of taking off my coat and boots while I try to figure out how to handle this.

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