Page 45 of Moms of Mayhem
“Absolutely, we should.”
“Consider it done.” I stuck my hand out, ready to shake, and Stevie slapped her palm in mine. “Welcome to the club.”
14
On Tuesday afternoon, I went straight from Dr. Carter’s office to my mom’s rehab center, just down the street. The front desk clerk waved me through after checking my ID, and I walked slowly down the hall toward the room she’d been assigned. Moving without crutches felt a little awkward, but the hip brace still restricted my range of motion—as long as I didn’t do anything stupid, I would be okay. Or so I kept telling myself.
Mom’s door was propped open, the low sound of a soap opera drifting out into the hall.
“Knock, knock.” I rapped on her doorframe.
She sat in a recliner on the other side of the room, her casted arm in a sling. The bruising on her cheek had turned green, but her smile was as bright as it always was. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”
She patted the armrest of the sofa next to her, and I walked into the room, taking in the very basic surroundings. Her room here in the rehab center wasn’t quite as clinical asthe hospital, but it still bore the unmistakable stamp of impermanence.
The walls were soft, muted beige, going for homey but not quite there. A framed print of a watercolor landscape hung slightly crooked above the dresser, and a vase of artificial daisies sat on the windowsill. The bed was neatly made with a pale blue quilt tucked tight, and someone had folded a cheerful pink blanket at the foot of it.
A tray table sat beside her chair, half-covered in the Sudoku books I’d brought from home, a plastic cup with a straw, and a small bag of peppermints she always kept in her purse.
Not home but trying.
I sat down on the couch, stretching out my leg, not thinking about the pain after being poked and prodded all morning.
My mom didn’t miss a beat, pointing a trembling hand toward my leg. “No crutches. That’s good. How are you doing?”
I raised a brow, then pointed back at the bruise still covering most of her cheek. “How areyoudoing?”
She waved me off, then put her hand back in her lap, turning her attention to the TV. “Don’t you worry about me. I’ll be out of here in no time.”
“Then you don’t worry about me either.”
Shetsked, but I saw the smile on her face. “You may be old, but I am still your mother. I’ll worry about you until I’m six feet under—and maybe even after that if I get bored.”
I sighed; she sounded an awful lot like another mom I couldn’t quite escape.
“That was a loaded sound.” My mom reached across herside of the table to the TV remote and muted it, then turned toward me with that knowing look. “Want to talk about it?”
“It?”
She shrugged, then her brow pulled together as if the small movement had caused her pain. “Whatever it is that makes you look like you’d be running your fastest mile away from here if it weren’t for your bum leg and my bum face.”
I scrubbed a hand across my face, then scratched at my jaw. Even though my mom was never one to judge, I didn’t think it was a good idea to repeat Emmy’s and my conversation last night, then finding out today I’d be reporting to her daily for PT updates. That is, if she agreed to the team’s plans. If she didn’t, I was extra screwed.
“Is it about Emmy and her boy?”
I dropped my hand, giving her a flat look. “How do you always do that?” I waved in her general direction, and my mom grinned. “Know things.”
“I know my sons.” Mom took a slow sip of her water. Her blue eyes sparkled, like my life was as juicy as the trash TV she loved to watch. “And Emmy has always been a pretty girl. You mentioned her boy, so it was only a matter of time you ran into her. You’d be blind not to see that Emmy has grown into quite the woman, and an even better mother than I am.”
“Well, I don’t know if I’d gothatfar. You’re pretty great.”
She waved me off. “We’re beyond flattery, and you were a little shit. Still are.”
I laughed, dropping my head to the wall behind me. “The team okayed me staying in town for rehab.”
“Is that what you want?” Mom asked, and I rotated my head to look at her. The mischief in her gaze was gone,replaced with a melancholy I hated seeing there. “You have a whole life I’m keeping you from, and I don’t want that.”
I lifted my head up, adjusting my hip until I could sit on the edge of the couch. “This is what I want. We can beat around the bush and pretend like they didn’t tell me you have Parkinson’s and won’t be getting better, or we can do our best to fix the rift that’s formed in our family since Mason and I left you to chase our dreams.”
