Charade

“This isn’t over,” Gregory says before walking away. It’s hard not to laugh. It’s such a “B” movie thing to say.

“I really fucking hate him.” The tension in Colt finally releases.

“I’m sorry. I just want to have a good day.”

                    He sighs, which doesn’t sound very good, but says, “We will. We’re normal and happy, remember?”

              I smile before we finish trekking up the hill, find a spot and lay our blanket down.

              The music starts not long after. A guy with a guitar who sounds a little like Bobby Long, one of the only people I really listen to. This guy isn’t as good.

              I sit between Colt’s legs and he has his arms around me. I feel his heart against my back and wonder if mine matches his rhythm.

              When it starts to get cold, he pulls the blanket around us. Gregory’s forgotten. Everything else can wait. We just sit back and listen. I’m not even sure if he likes this kind of music, but he’s here and that means something to me.

              “You owe me for this,” he whispers in my ear before nipping it with his teeth.

              “How did I know you’d say something like that?”

              He chuckles and keeps holding me. I’m glad it’s cold, but even if it was a hundred degrees I would still love to have him wrapped around me.

              When it’s over we hold hands as we walk back to the car. I’m not sure how many more days we’ll have like this— if it was a fluke because he just needed a break or if we’ll try to make this our new normal. All I know is I loved it. I love everything I do with him.

              “We just went on a fucking date, Tiny Dancer,” Colt teases when we get to the car.

              “I was just thinking that.”

              He smirks. “It wasn’t so bad. Mom will be proud.”

              I return his smile before hugging him. What is it about this boy that makes me come undone? That makes me need to touch him and talk to him and just be with him?

              “Did you only go out with me to make your mom happy?” I laugh.

              Colt shakes his head. “Are you trying to pull compliments out of me?”

              I playfully push him before getting in the car. He’s right behind me, tossing the blanket into the backseat and then climbing into the passenger side.

              I hardly have the car started when my phone rings. It’s Bev’s number. Colt doesn’t have a new phone so maybe she’s just calling to say hi.  “Hello.” I listen. Tears automatically pool in my eyes. My heart breaks. “Okay…I understand.”

              I hang up the phone and look at Colt. “That was Maggie.” I grab his hand and he tenses. “She’s not doing well…They’re calling in hospice. They think it’s time.”

              That quickly our normal…our happy, is over.

~CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE~

Colt

              I feel like I’m choking on my own tongue the whole way there. Like it’s swelling, filling my mouth, throat, suffocating me, but I still can’t make myself open my mouth and say a word. My mind is blank the whole time except for the same words going over and over through my head.

              It’s time, it’s time, it’s time.

              Such simple fucking words, but they mean everything’s changing. That I’ll have to keep going on, but she’ll soon be dead. Fucking gone. No huge beating heart, no smile. Nothing but skin, bones and my name on her wrist, until eventually she won’t even be that anymore.

              My grip tightens on the door and the center console as my dancer drives me home. To sit with my mom. While she dies.

              I almost gag. Something wants to come up my throat but I fight it down. I can’t lose it. Can’t. Not yet. Not before I see her.

              We get out of the car and Cheye

              I pull her to me, loving her for asking and still needing her here because there’s no way I can do this alone.

              “Stay.” Is all I say because it’s all I can manage. She nods, understanding. Always understanding no matter how big a prick I’ve been.

              My hands fucking shake as we walk inside. I lace my fingers through hers, needing the grounding only this girl gives me.

              “Oh, Colton,” Maggie pulls me into her arms, but I don’t hug her back. Don’t have it in me to do anything.

              I don’t get it. The day before yesterday, she was fine. Laughing and talking and sitting in the sunshine.

              “What happened?” I manage to ask.

              Maggie pulls away. “Yesterday she slept most of the day. Was vomiting.”

              “Why didn’t you call me?” I ask.

              “She asked me not to. Said she was just tired. It’s her right, Colton.”

              “I’m her son.” I push around Maggie. “I have a right.”

              “Another hospice nurse came in this morning…They prescribed a lot more morphine. It will help with the pain.”

              Help kill her, she means.

              “She didn’t want to take any until you got here. She’s still sleeping a lot but—”

              I don’t hear anything else because I’m down the hall. To her room. She’s in fucking pain because she wanted to wait for me.

              Her head is turned, her eyes on the door as soon as I step inside.

              “Colton,” she hardly whispers out. My feet plant to the floor. I can’t move. How the hell can she look so much worse in two days? How can it happen like this? She’s hooked up to the IV. I’ve seen her on it at home before, but this is different.

              My pulse pounds in my ears. My chest aches. This is Mom. The one who’s always been there. The one who wanted nothing but for me to be happy. To make something of myself. To be more than her and more than my dad and she’s fucking dying.

              Her arm stretches out, her hand open to me.

              Fucking move, Colt!

              I feel Chey’s hand on my shoulder, urging me on. One foot in front of the other I go to her.

              “Hey, Mom.” My voice breaks and I hate myself for it. Hate that I can’t be stronger when she needs me.

              “Hi.” Her lips are cracked they’re so dry, but she manages to stretch them into a smile anyway.

              “I love you.” I’m pissed those are the words that come out of my mouth. I love her and want her to know but that’s what you say before goodbye. I’m not ready for goodbye yet.

              She doesn’t answer right away. Just grab my hand and tries to squeeze. “I’m tired.”

              “Are you in pain?” What a screwed up question. Of course she’s in pain. I’m in pain just looking at her.

              Mom nods her head.

              “Chey. Get Maggie. Tell her she needs the meds.”

              I keep holding her hand as I sit in the chair. Neither of us speak. Her breaths are shallow, loud.

              It’s not Maggie, but another nurse who comes into the room and adds medicine to the IV. Chey’s hands touch my shoulders again. I don’t look at any of them. Don’t talk to anyone. Do nothing but watch her.

~CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO~

Cheye

              Colt’s mom’s been asleep for three hours. He hasn’t spoken a word the whole time. I’m sitting in a chair beside him. He’s holding her hand, his head in his arms that are resting on her bed. Sometimes I touch him. I want him to know I’m here. I’ll always be here. I alternate between rubbing his back and touching his leg and pulling back to give him space. Still I don’t leave the chair. As long as he’s by her side I’ll be by his.