promises to text updates on Veronica’s appointments tomorrow.
With my backpack slung over my shoulder, I text Dad to let him know I’m on my way. Things aren’t always easy between us, but we’re both trying. I cut him slack because he went from having no kids to three. He cuts me some slack because he feels guilty for dropping the ball on the whole parenting thing.
Lucy likes Tory, and she likes Lucy back. The biggest bonus—Lucy’s in therapy and only wakes two times a week crying. Each night without tears is a win in my book.
I trot down the stairs, go out the front door, and my stomach sinks when I spot Mom on the steps. Dad didn’t just win emergency custody of me and Lucy, he was also granted a temporary restraining order for us. One that’s close to ending, but one that’s still in effect. One that has kept Mom from talking to me while I’ve visited Veronica.
She turns on the step and looks at me. It’s Mom, but not Mom. There’s no makeup on her face, her hair isn’t perfectly done. In fact, she’s imperfection. She’s in sweats and an oversized sweatshirt to help against the cold, wet, winter evening.
A jolt of recognition causes a pain in my chest. The sweatshirt is one of mine.
Was the restraining order too much? In my opinion, yes, but at the same time, I appreciated the space.
“I saw your car, and I’ve been waiting on you,” she says. “Hoping you’d come down soon.”
Hurt. It bleeds from me. And in this moment, I realize how much I miss her.
I take the two steps and sit down beside her. Not close. Her on one side of the stairs, me on the other. Ulysses asked me if I wanted him to kick her out of the apartment, and I told him unless she wasn’t paying rent, no. I don’t want the worst for my mom—I just want her to want to get better.
Mom’s nervous. I haven’t seen her like that very often. She unfastens and refastens her Fitbit over and over again.
I stare out into the dark evening. The rain is steady, the air temperature, cold. I pull up the zipper on my jacket and watch as my breath comes out in a billow of smoke.
“How’s Veronica?” Mom breaks the silence.
“Okay. The chemo and radiation are making her sick and we’re having a tough time finding medications that can help with the nausea. But I think Ulysses found something today that may work. The doctors are being aggressive with her treatment and are hopeful. I won’t lie. It’s going to be a long road, but the doctors think everything’s going to work.”
I hope it does. I need it, too.
“That’s good,” Mom says. “I’ve been praying for her.”
I’ve been praying for Veronica and Mom. In fact, all I feel like I do anymore is pray. It’s a constant conversation in the back of my head between me and God. One that never shuts off.
“Sylvia and Miguel keep me updated on her condition and treatments.”
“That’s good.” I steal her response. I talk and text with Sylvia and Miguel often. See them occasionally when I’m in town to see V. They’ve both been by to visit her. Not nearly as much as Nazareth, Jesse, Scarlett and Leo, but they consider her a friend now and V feels the same.
“They keep me updated on you as well.”
Same.
“They said you’re still swimming?”
“Yeah. As long as Veronica keeps doing well, I plan on swimming in some club meets starting in February. I met with the swim coach from the University of Louisville. He’s interested in me. A few other colleges have shown interest, too.”
She brightens. “That’s good.”
It is. Swimming keeps me focused and away from jumping off cliffs. Gives me an outlet. Something Knox has encouraged, Veronica has encouraged, and Dad has encouraged. But it was Ulysses that convinced me—explaining his experiences with Veronica’s mom and the importance of taking care of myself so I can better take care of the woman I love.
“Sylvia said you’re homeschooling?”
Sort of. “I’m still enrolled at the high school here. Because I’m so close to graduating, my teachers are working with me so I can do my classes online.” And because I know she’s hungry for information: “Lucy’s in school in Louisville. It’s a good one.”
A fancy one that Tory’s friends and family rave about. Some sort of Latin school that only goes so many days a week. I was wary at first, but