orgasm and my lips for angry kisses that he called devious?
After taking a much needed shower, I crawl into bed for a few hours but I can’t sleep. I’m missing school today. My phone’s been blowing up with texts, screenshots of the photoshopped image going around, then my old house was cropped in there.
Some creative asshole—and I’m betting it’s Casey—photoshopped my house to make it look like a whore-house. There was even a caption like ad; Fuck Mia for ten bucks to save her home.
The image already had a few thousand hits, retweeted just as many times and the hashtags were nauseating.
I don’t bother going to school. I stay home with Mom, helping Nurse Hayley take care of her. At one point, I ask her to take a much deserved break so I can take over for the day.
With my hair in a messy bun, my eyes red rimmed and puffy, I sit on the floor in front of my mom and reach for her slightly trembling hands.
She doesn’t speak a lot these days, but I can see the questions in her eyes.
“I know what you’re thinking. I’m not bailing on school and I have no intention to hit the road and be a starving artist.” I chuckle, thinking of our running joke of who I might’ve been or the life I might’ve lived had my mother been a hippie, or a struggling artist in New York City, or groupie for some band.
“I just needed a day off, Mama,” I start as we stare out at the ocean. “It’s become a bit much for me right now.”
The confession falls from my lips and in that moment, I feel like an utter failure.
I’ve never heard my mother complain about anything, not once in my entire life. It’s as if she was forged in fire, and nothing could hurt or touch her. I’ve only ever seen her strong, braving through the pain with a determined look on her face. Which is why ALS has reduced her to a shell of a person I hardly recognize.
“And you don’t need to tell me, I already know,” I start, my voice hoarse as a lone tear rolls down my cheek. “I know you want to tell me that I need to get my ass up, do what I need to do and not cry or bitch about it. I know that Mom, but God, today I can’t.”
I don’t really expect a response, but for a moment, I swear she squeezes my hand, then she says my name.
“Mia,”
I whip my head around so fast I almost hit my head on the leg of her new electric wheelchair.
“Mom?”
“Hey baby,” she croaks, her voice sounding unfamiliar but so familiar at the same time, the tears roll silently down my cheeks.
“Hey mommy,” I whisper, squeezing her hand. It’s been so long since she talked, not because she was at that stage of her diagnosis, but because she was so depressed, she chose not to.
“Don’t look so sad.” She breathes between each word.
I chuckle, wiping my tears away. I don’t want to upset her.
“Sorry, I’m a mess.”
“You should…be a…mess more…often.” She smiles, her intelligent eyes staring down at me. “It’s okay…to cry.”
I’m stunned into silence as I stare up at this monumental woman, with a legacy that’s so far, unmatched.
“I thought crying gives ladies puffy eyes and we don’t need puffy eyes?” I start with a smile, deliberately making light out of this.
“Well…that was before,” she says. “Before I thought…about death.”
I suck in a deep breath, a chill coming over me like someone just drenched me in ice water. It’s a shock to my system.
“Mom, you don’t have to—”
“It’s…something we…have to talk…about, baby girl.” She breathes and for a moment, I’m struck by fear all over again that she can’t breathe but then she blinks and looks at me. “I’m sorry…that a lot of…responsibility…fell on you…these past couple…of years.”
“Mom, you have nothing to apologize for,” I start, kneeling now. “You’re my mother, I’ll always take care of you.”
“You’re so…brave.” She smiles, her eyes glistening. “So…strong.”
“I’m all that only because of you, Mama.” Everything she’s ever accomplished has made her a woman to look up to, so who am I to be weak and be bullied by some bitch who thinks I’ll take her guy away?
“I know life’s been… sucky…these days…with Nicky…your dad—”
“We don’t have to talk about that,” I cut her off, shaking my head. “I don’t want you to be upset.”
“Or maybe…you don’t want…to face it all.” She watches