Dark Intentions - Charlotte Byrd Page 0,13

gives me a little bit of side-eye and I move to the chair.

I look over to our ancient refrigerator, which breaks at least once every year or so that we keep planning on replacing without actually making the commitment to do so.

"Couldn't sleep," Mom says.

My mom is dressed in her favorite plush bathrobe and her royal blue silk pajamas are slightly visible underneath. They were this year's Christmas gift from Michael and she practically lives in them.

My mom is in her sixties and incredibly stylish. When things were going well, she never missed an appointment at the salon or the manicurist.

She's always been good with her hands and crafty and that's why the house looks as good as it can look given its age and state of deterioration.

"How was everything?" she asks, pulling herself away from her Kindle for a moment.

She has always been an avid reader, but ever since she got sick and hasn't been able to get much exercise due to chemotherapy and a lack of energy, she has become what I lovingly call a rabid reader. She devours a book, sometimes two, three a day. It's her primary source of entertainment.

"How are you feeling?" I ask.

She shrugs, pulls out a little clear lip gloss tube from her pocket, and lines her lips.

"So-so today. I went on a walk trying to get those 5,000 steps, but only managed to do 3,000."

"Well, that's great. I mean, any little bit helps."

"Yeah. It's just pathetic, you know? I used to be so mobile, so active."

"Yeah, I know. Well, listen, I'm proud of what you're doing and how far you're getting, given the circumstances."

We are both dancing around her diagnosis, not really mentioning it on purpose. She has had chronic illness issues for a long time. That's part of the reason why it was so important for her to stay fit and active. Many years ago, before we moved to this house, we lived in another one a few miles away and my mom would constantly get sick there.

No one knew why, but she would just have these spells where she couldn't get up, she couldn't do anything, she'd cough, she'd be sick for weeks.

She went to see a lot of doctors and someone had mentioned an autoimmune disease was a possibility, but she felt still there was something else going on.

When my dad lost twenty grand gambling in Atlantic City and we got evicted, we moved in with a friend of theirs, into their small guest house and suddenly, my mom felt infinitely better.

It was a big mystery until she looked into it more and discovered that she had a very bad allergy to mold. The other house we’d lived in had a huge mold problem, but it was right behind the walls, so none of it was visible except for in the basement.

Things had improved a lot since then, but that's what taught her to always take care of her health and prioritize it over almost anything else.

“So, tell me about Allison,” Mom says, standing up and peering into the fridge, offering to make something.

At first, I say no, but then the thought of some fried eggs and toast draws me in.

"Nothing new, hung out with her new boyfriend or whatever their official status is."

"Sounds good. How's her job?"

"Very busy, working crazy hours like always."

"Well, I'm glad that you went out, had some fun. You know, it's important to have fun at your age."

There's more veiled language there.

I know that she's concerned about me and “the choices” that I’m making.

"I'm going to make you eggs in a basket. Remember? Michael's favorite."

I smile at the corner of my lips. The thing that's the hardest about losing him is that there are memories of him everywhere.

On one hand, I want to remember, and I want to hold him with me and keep him safe.

But on the other hand, I'm afraid. There's this pain that comes with remembering him and talking about him and it cuts me to the core.

Sometimes it's easier to just not think about him and to not let that pain in.

"I got the acceptance packet for the experimental treatment," Mom announces as she flips the eggs and the toast over with the spatula.

"What?" I gasp. "Wait, you did?"

We've been waiting for these documents to arrive for months, and for her to just announce it so nonchalantly, it takes me aback.

"Listen, it's not a good idea."

"What? No, this is the only thing that's going to work."

She shakes her head. "I've