Charade

              “Most people are.” I wonder sometimes if she knows I’m faking it with her. If she knows I’m disintegrating inside, but just don’t say anything. “You shouldn’t try to get out of bed by yourself, Mom.”

              A twenty-one year-old shouldn’t have to scold their own parent. There’s something really fucked up about this situation.

              “It was just a fall.”

              “You can’t afford to hurt yourself.”

              She sighs. “I’m dying anyway. Sometimes, I just want to do it with a little bit of dignity. A woman should be able to get out of bed by herself.”

              My hands tighten into a fist. Yes, I know she’s fucking dying, but that doesn’t mean I want to hear her say it. It doesn’t mean something wild and crazy can’t happen. Cheye

              Which I know is a lie. It won’t happen, but damn I want to pretend.

              “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s been a bad day.” Mom closes her eyes and I immediately feel like shit. She doesn’t have a lot of bad days. She’s optimistic. The cup is half full, sunshine and flowers and I try to act like I agree, but really I’m pissed someone dumped out half of my drink.

              “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I was up late helping this girl last night so I’m on edge.”

              At that she opens her eyes and looks at me and I realize my mistake. I don’t mention girls in front of her, probably because I don’t do more than screw around with them. Now I brought up Cheye

              Maybe I should give her something to latch on to.

              I scratch that idea because we’re already too tied together. Our lives are becoming too intertwined and that’s the last thing either of us need right now. We’re both too screwed up for that. She’ll end up okay though. People like her always are.

              “Is this a girl you’re…?”

              “No.” I turn away from her.

              “Are you sure? Why won’t you look at me, Colton?”

              I hear the smile in her voice and it makes me want to do the same. It isn’t often she’s able to give me a real one—with happiness and hope and it’s about a fucking lie because there is nothing real going on with Cheye

              I turn to face Mom. “Because you’re being ridiculous. Are you hurt? You said there’s a bruise on your—”

              “Stop changing the subject.”

              I fall onto the couch. “I’m pretty sure that’s you.” There’s a part of me who actually wants to keep this going. It’s like what we used to have. I’ve spent most of my life with it only being the two of us and she’s always been one of those hands on moms. If she could spend time with me—if she wasn’t working, she wanted to be with me. We’ve always been close and it feels like that now. Like before when she wasn’t bald or fell when she tried to get out of her bed alone.

              I want to hold onto that.

              “You like this girl!” It’s the most animated I’ve seen her in a long ass time. She wheels the chair closer to me. “Colton…”

              “I don’t like her, Mom. Jesus, you make it sound like we’re twelve.”

              “Who is she?”

              I don’t know. Who are any of us, really? Do we ever really know someone else? Hell, do we know ourselves? I can’t answer that way though. “She’s a friend,” I shrug. Which I guess she is, which is weird as hell. “It’s nothing. She’s a girl from school.”

              And then we’re both quiet and I know I somehow let her down. Or maybe that’s not really it. Maybe she just wants more for me.

              The smile is suddenly. Deep lines etch across her forehead and she looks older…sicker, that quickly. “I don’t want you to be alone.”

              My heart fucking stops and my chest sinks in. I don’t want to have this conversation with her. The thought makes me want to puke, hit something. Pretty much do anything rather than talk about this with her. “I’m fine.”

              “Colton, I know—”

              “No,” I shake my head at her and get up. “We’re not going there, okay? I just wanted to check on you. Are you sure you’re good?”

              “Yes, Doctor. I’m fine. I was checked out.”

              I shake my head at her, but I can tell she’s just having fun with me. Fun. I don’t get how she can do that. How she can know what’s happening and not be freaking out. Makes me feel like a pussy because she’s handling it so much better than I am.

              “Are you hungry? I can make us some lunch?” She doesn’t eat much, but she has these shakes that she likes. Sometimes she eats light stuff, soups and shit like that.

              “I’d like that.”

              I head to the kitchen and make us each a sandwich that I know she won’t eat. There’s a big pot of soup in the fridge so I warm some up for us. I eat my soup while she sips hers. She asks about my classes like she always does.

              My cell blows up the whole time, but I ignore it. Hate dealing with that shit when I’m with her.

              “I want a tattoo,” Mom says out of the blue. I almost choke on a noodle. She’s always giving me hell about my tatts. She hates them. Thinks they’re pointless so her words couldn’t shock me more.

              “I thought you hated tattoos.”

              “Things change.”

              Fuck. Yeah. They do. I wonder if this is one of those bucket list things. Something she’s decided she had to do before she goes.  “Okay,” I shrug. “We’ll go sometime.”

              “Soon,” Mom says. That simple word is like a knife slicing through me, cutting me from my neck down. I suddenly don’t want to take her to get a tattoo anymore. If she can’t do the things on her list, she can’t go. It’s not right otherwise. “They say it should be something important. It’s…something I want to take with me.”

              “What?” My voice cracks.

              Mom smiles. “I’m not telling yet. I’m still trying to figure out the details.”

              I try to play her happy game the rest of lunch. Talk about charades. I give Chey shit about hers, but look at me. My whole fucking life is a game.

              After lunch I clean up the mess. Her nurse walks in and smiles at me and my cell goes off again. It’s an excuse, but I take it. I’m no better than my dad since I can’t stay around.

              “I gotta go. I have some stuff to take care of. You want me to help you into bed before I go?”

              Mom yawns and I know she needs it. She gives me a small nod and I wheel her to her room. I swear she’s lost even more weight. It’s like picking up a kid when I put her into bed, kiss her bald head again. “No more getting out of bed by yourself. You have help for a reason.”

              “Yes, Doctor,” she smiles again.

              I walk to the door, but stop before I leave. I don’t know what makes me do it, but I turn to her and say. “I’ll try and bring her by, ‘kay? I don’t know when, but I’ll see what I can do.”

              It’s a huge fucking step and a dumb one at that. But I’ll do it. For mom, even if the whole thing with Cheye

              Even from across the room I see the tears in her eyes. “I can’t wait to meet her, Colton.”

              I feel more like shit when I leave than I did when I got here.

***

              I make a quick stop at the house and grab what I need. My gut churns the whole time. Mom would hate this part of me. Hate that I’m doing the same thing my dad did, but for me it’s because I have to, not because I want to. Nothing makes this kind of money and lets me work on my own schedule so when Mom has a problem, I can be there.