Chapter 49

When I was bullied in the third grade, she was the one who, not only reported my bullies to the principal, but she taught me how to stand up for myself.

When I fell off of my bicycle in the fifth grade whilst I was learning how to ride, she was the one who placed band-aids on my knees and assured me that I can do it.

I could always count on her.

But now…

Now she was cursed the cancer.

I wish I could say for certain that she would pull through this, but life is mysteriously unpredictable.

If god existed, he would be cruel to take my mother from me.

I love my father a lot, my brother too. I may sound like a bad person for saying this, but, without my mother, I don’t think I could survive that.

My mom has always been my comfort person.

“There’s my little Dally.” She says when I enter her hospital room.

My dad was at home sleeping and Mitchell was out, so I had ordered an Uber to get here.

She’s smiling at me. It’s the kind of smile that has always reassured me that everything would be okay. That, no matter what happens, she would always be here to make it better.

But nothing was okay. My mother had cancer, and no matter how much I prayed or manifested that she would be okay, there’s just no telling.

There circles beneath her eyes, and as she tries to sit upwards, she’s straining. It made me sad to see her in this state.

“Hi mom.” I say, taking a seat beside her bed, fighting back tears.

She doesn’t need to see me cry.

She can’t see me cry.

I must be strong.

And as my father always said…

Men don’t cry.

“Shouldn’t you be at school?” She wondered, her voice is faint, distantly so.

I inhale a breath through my nostrils before releasing. “I don’t ever wanna go back there.” I tell her. “I can’t.”

“What’s up?” She shifts slightly in her bed.

I am silent for a moment as I contemplate wether or not I should tell her. I decided not to.

She has more to deal with.

“Nothing.” I say.

She coughed, placing her right hand over her mouth before exhaling a calming breath. “Does this have anything to do with Grayson?”

Pardon my language, but what the actual fuck?

Does she know???

Shit!

Does that also mean that my dad knows?

FUCK!

Did Principal Baker inform them of the photo?

“Why would you think that?” I wonder, acting as if I had no idea what she was on about.

“I’ve been alive long enough to know when someone’s in love.” She says.

“I am not in love with Grayson.” I say, defensively.

She inclined her head to the side. “I’m talking about Grayson being in love with you. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

I scoffed. “He doesn’t love me.”

I mean, honestly, what is there to love?

“Why are you so sure that he doesn’t love you?” She asked.

I avert my gaze and take a moment to think it over. The answer, was obvious…

“Because someone who loves you wouldn’t hurt you.” I say.

A slight smile appeared on her face. “Oh, Dally.” She takes a deep breath. “All of the greatest loves hurt.”

It sounded like something out of a novel. According to my mother herself, she has only ever been in love once. But the way she gives advice, it seems as if she’s been in love more than once. Either she’s lying, or my father has broken her heart before.

“He is not in love with me.” I insist.

He can’t be.

Could he be??

No.

It’s not possible.

I’m not worth falling in love with. I mean, I can barely even stand myself. How can anyone else?

“If you say so.” She says.

We sit there for six minutes, give or take, before she breaks the silence.

“Can you do me a favor?”

I was scared to know what the favor was. Still, I answered with an “Okay.”

She uses the electric hand control to incline her hospital bed upright before continuing.

“Can you shave my head?” She asked, brushing a hand through her beautiful brown hair, unwillingly pulling out a chunk of it.

I frowned, tears threatening to well in my eyes. I blink rapidly, trying with all my might not to cry in front of her.

I cannot cry in front of her.

I take a both subtle and calming breath before responding. “Okay.”

She takes her time getting out of bed, and even as she stands on both of her two feet, she reaches to me for support.

Her hand is placed on my left shoulder, and I help her towards a wheel chair.

“There’s hair clippers in the bathroom.” She says. “I was going to do it earlier, but I just…. I couldn’t.”

“Maybe you don’t have to shave it.” I say as I help her seat herself in a wheelchair. “I read that some people keep their hair if they wear cold caps.”

I got that from my research.

“It’s already too late. My hair has been falling out for the past few days.” She says.

I wheel her into the bathroom.

“Does dad know?” I asked.

She looks at me through the vanity mirror. “No. He has been so scared and worried about losing me. I didn’t want to tell him.”

My dad has never been one to express his feelings. There are times, not many, when I feel like he is a mere mortal. But mostly, he acts like nothing mundane could ever hurt him.

Hesitantly, I take the clippers and switch them on before slowly shaving her head. With every shaving stroke, my heart seemed to break.

Afterwards, she stares at her reflection in the mirror, as if imagining many social scenarios without hair on her head.

“Are you okay?” I asked her.

She smiles. “I’m okay, son.” She says. “It’s only hair.”

She’s putting on a brave face.

My mom is good at reading me, and always has been. She probably knows more about me than I know about myself. But I know her. I know when she’s pretending.

I know when she’s scared.

I take a deep breath and decide, impulsively, to shave my own head in solidarity.

“What are you doing?” She asks, panic in her tone.

“I needed a change, anyways.” I say, acting as if it was no big deal. And honestly, it wasn’t.

A half hour later, my mom and I are watching the tv that is dangled from the hospital room’s ceiling.

There’s a weird reality tv show on screen, which my mom seemed to not mind.

Even if she wanted to watch the world’s worst tv show, I would sit here and suffer through it, for her.

“Can you promise me something?” She asks.

I gulped my own saliva. “What is it?” I wondered.

She exhaled with an audible groan. “If I don’t make it, you have to take care of your brother and your father.”

I couldn’t stop tears from forming.

“Mom-“

“Promise me, Dal.” She insisted.

Tears fall. “You can’t do that.” I sniffled, shaking my head at her request. “You can’t ask that of me. You cannot burden me with taking care of dad and Mitchell when I can’t even take care of myself. It’s not fair!”

She places a hand on mine. “You’re stronger than they are.”

“No, I’m not. I’m pathetic and weak. I can’t live without you.” I wipe away tears.

“You’re not pathetic and weak.” She says, her thumb massaging the back of my hand. “You are my strong son. You can survive anything.”

No… I can’t.

At this point, tears are streaming from my eyes like waterfalls.

“I can’t predict the future.” She says. “But I know that you’ll be okay.”

She says it like she can actually predict the future. Though, her hypothetical prediction would be wrong.

I wouldn’t be okay without her.