Page 51 of Break Me Not

I gritted my teeth.

You'll go in there. Claire will be with you. It will be okay.

It was annoying—and weak—how I had to prepare myself just to see my own mother. I shouldn't feel this way. I had seen so many things. Shootings, stalkers, murderers, drug deals, money laundering… Yet, somehow, my mother had the ability to make all of those seem small.

My mind wandered to Liz.

What would she think about this?

Would she be annoyed with how weak I was?

I wouldn't tell her. Not for now, at least.

Because there was one thing that scared me more than losing everything I'd worked for.

It was losing the chance to show Liz that I was worth it.

“She's having a very good day today,” the nurse informed us as she closed the door behind us.

“Perfect,” I said through a clenched jaw as I tried to force a smile on my face, but Claire obviously felt my discomfort and placed her hand on my arm.

My mother's room had been decorated since I’d been here last. Drawings likely from another resident were hanging near her bed, along with pictures of things I recognized from the facility. Friends. Flowers. Her little life here.

I wonder if she took them herself.

The room smelled newly cleaned, and there was a small cup of water and her uneaten snack on the table near the window where my mother was currently sitting, her hands working on her latest crochet project. Others were left on the seat opposite her in a large basket, all of them unfinished.

She looked up at us, and I prepared myself for the inevitable. I took in her hair streaked with gray and her bright eyes, even though her face showed how tired this disease made her.

It had only been a few weeks since I’d last seen her, but the wrinkles on her face seemed to have deepened. Her body was hunched over. She moved slower.

Is this because of her disease or just because she’s older?

My mother looked frail in the large cardigan she’d brought from home and the facility-provided clothing. She’d adopted me when she was in her mid-forties, so I had always had an older mother, much to all of my classmates’ delight.

They loved to pick on me about it in school, and I'd learned to fight really early because of it.

I loved my mother. She didn’t deserve any of their hateful comments. And she definitely never deserved this fucking disease.

And then she smiled at me.

“Jaxie, you came! And you brought a friend!”

My heart broke a little for Claire but soared for me. I could be selfish here. The small squeeze of Claire’s hand told me she didn't mind being forgotten.

“And we brought cake,” I told my mom, slowly walking up to her table.

“Oh? What's the occasion?” she asked.

That was my first choice of the night. I could lie and say it was just because. Or I could tell her the truth and possibly ruin it for her.

The outcome was never the same, so it really was a fifty-fifty chance every time.

“Just celebrating the day we became a family,” I replied, taking out the single piece of cake packed in a takeaway box.

“Oh yes, you're right. Silly me, I had it on my list to call you this morning, but I must've forgotten. Oh, is that⁠—”

“Straight from Francesca's diner,” I confirmed, pushing it toward her. “They're still in business after all these years.”