“Why didn’t she tell me she was sick?” The words blurted out of her mouth.
The lady drew in a slow, deep breath through her nose, then answered. “I’ve been encouraging her to reach out to you and your brother, but she was adamant that you not be burdened. It wasn’t until today, until she felt the end was close, that she requested to see you both.”
Evanee didn’t have any words to say in response so she just nodded.
“She’s upstairs—” The nurse kept talking, but Evanee wasn’t listening as she started up the ornate staircase.
And suddenly she was standing in the doorway, staring at the nightmarish figure reclining in the raised bed.
That thing couldn’t be Mom.
It was a skeleton covered by a thin layer of blue-tinged flesh. The ridges and contours of its skull were apparent through the skin. Its cheekbones jutted out at sharp, angry angles. Dark, sunken-in hollows where cheeks should be. Its mouth open, gasping for each breath. Tongue thrusting out like it needed to taste the oxygen. Wheezing, slurpy sounds as if it inhaled through water. The sound was a fresh kind of horror.
Evanee’s head buzzed. Her stomach soured. She felt terrified and sickened at the same time.
How could that be her mom?
Yet it was. Evanee recognized the thick mass of black hair—a legacy that she and Thomas had inherited from their mother.
Lathan hugged Evanee to his chest, a powerful wall insulating her, but she couldn’t look away from Mom. He spoke against her hair. “Ahhh. Honey.”
Everyone in the room turned toward them. Rob and Junior were on one side of Mom’s bed. Thomas—her baby brother—on the other. He was taller and broader than she was, his face more heavily chiseled than hers, but they shared the same color hair and eyes. Only his eyes turned down a bit at the edges, giving him an expression that resided somewhere between kindness and sadness. And his face was a splotchy red, like it always got when he was upset.
An excited pang resonated through her heart at the sight of him. They’d never been close, but she’d missed him.
Her brother glanced up at her. The look he gave her said Please don’t make a scene.
Rob looked the same as he always did. He must’ve made a deal with a demon so he’d never age. As usual, his casual clothes were a uniform of their own. Starched khakis and a polo shirt. The perfect combination of casual and professional.
A lumpy raspberry bruise spanned up Junior’s cheek and down his neck. Must be from the fight at the motel where Lathan didn’t kick his ass but apparently kicked his face.
“Dad. That’s Lathaniel Montgomery.”
“Aren’t you a little old to be a tattletale?” Evanee pulled away from Lathan to stand in front of him, blocking him from Junior and Rob.
Rob puffed up into his sheriff stance and walked leisurely toward them. “Son, you’re in a lot of trouble. You need to leave before I call the boys and have you removed.”
Anger colored Evanee’s tone. “Don’t call him son. He’s nothing like your son. Call your boys. They can witness how fucked-up this family really is without the varnish and shine you layer over the shit. I’m done pretending. If they come, I’ll talk. And I’ve got a lot to say.”
Rob stopped halfway across the room as if he’d run into an invisible force field. His eyes widened, his mouth opened, but no words came out.
“I’m not taking any more of your shit.” She pointed at Junior. “Yours either.”
“Ev, stop it. Now is not the time for your drama.” Thomas’s big, blue puppy-dog eyes turned on her, but she was immune to their charm.
“My drama?” Evanee’s volume was too high, but she couldn’t control it. “Are you blind or stupid or in on it?”
Thomas flinched away from her as if she’d just slapped him. The expression on his face was one she couldn’t quite read—confusion, sadness, and the hard realization of something he hadn’t let himself acknowledge until just now.
“Ev, I need you to tell me what you’re talking about.” Thomas’s tone was equal parts urgent and serious.
“Ehhvv…” The gasp of sound came from Mom.
One moment Evanee was in the doorway, the next she shoved in next to Thomas. Lathan bracketed her safely into his side.
“I’m here.” A harsh undertone spiked each word. She forced her voice to go soft. “I’m here, Mom.”
“We both are.” Thomas sounded huskier than usual.
“Mom, I’m here too,” Junior said and grasped Mom’s hand.
Mom coughed. Wet and choking and struggling.
Evanee flinched, and Lathan’s arm around her tightened. The sound of her mom dying wormed into her brain, latching on to her memory banks.
Mom’s eyes were partially open. The blue irises slid over, focusing on her.
The nurse stood at the end of the bed, gently rubbing Mom’s leg. “You can talk to her. She can hear you. Her body just can’t respond.”
What was she supposed to say to her dying mother? Why did you let Junior hurt me? Why didn’t you love me? Why didn’t you tell me you were dying? “Why, Mom? Why?”
Mom’s eyes never left her. Evanee bent closer, searching for something like remorse, but saw nothing. She hadn’t really expected Mom to pop off with an explanation that made everything all right, but a tiny piece of her had hoped. Obviously, the time for answers had passed.
A good daughter would tell her mom she loved her, would even say she forgave all the bad, but she supposed she had never been a good daughter and couldn’t make herself say words she didn’t mean. How could she love someone who had condoned Junior hurting her?
“Mom. I’m here.” Junior’s voice cracked with emotion. If he had been anyone else, Evanee might’ve felt sorry for him. “Mom. Mom. Look at meeee.”
In this, Mom’s last moment, she completely ignored Junior. Evanee couldn’t help feeling a bit triumphant.
A tear slipped from Mom’s eye, slid down the hollow of her cheek where it trembled on the ridge of her jawbone. She heaved a great undulating breath that seemed impossible for such a frail body.
Life faded from Mom’s eyes. And then…
Stillness.
Silence so quiet it ached. A hush so bitter it hurt.
*