“Before I forget.”
There are those words again, but they won’t make me give in to Mom’s wishes this time. No way they’re powerful enough to make me kill my mom. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I don’t want to blow up, and I attempt to reason with her even though I know it’s impossible. “Think about what you’re saying.”
“I’ve been thinking about it since that first day.”
“What if I asked you to kill me? You wouldn’t do it.” I try to reason.
“Yes, I would.”
I suck in a breath. “You’d kill me?”
“It’s not killing if you want to die.”
Oh, that’s all. I point out the obvious consequence. “I’ll go to prison for murder.”
“Oh.” Her brows draw together. “I didn’t think of that.”
Of course not.
“I can’t do it by myself.” Tears well up in her eyes. “I’ll forget.”
Exactly. I brought Mother to Louisiana so we could laugh and have fun for as long as possible and create a few final memories together. Helping her die is not a memory I want to create for myself.
She sniffs and wipes her nose with the back of her hand. “I guess it’s okay that you don’t want to get me the pills.”
“Thank you.” My shoulders drop with relief.
“All you gotta do is remind me,” she says as if it’s the perfect compromise.
“And just how often should I remind you?” Mom can still figure out how to shop online, but I don’t think she has the ability to research drug-assisted suicide and shop for the right pills. Even if she managed it somehow, there is no way I’m going to remind my mother to take her life. “Once a week?”
“I’ll need more reminding than that. Once or twice a day should do it.”
“Is that all?”
“Yep. Unless you think it should be more.”
“For God’s sake!”
“Don’t curse.”
“I can’t remind you to die. I love you too much.”
She turns toward me and takes my hand in both of hers. “If you love me, you’d do this one little thing.”
One little thing? I’m angry and hurt and lash out, “Ask Tony. He’s the son you never had.”
She lets go of my hand, and I can make out Rattlesnake Patty in her narrowed eyes. “You broke up with Tony.”
Now she remembers.
“I have a right to die. You want to keep me around until I am just bones and skin and my mouth hangs open.”
The backs of my eyes sting from hurt and anger. “Mom—”
“You want me to drool on a bib like a baby, and no one will come spoon me in my hour of need.”
“Of course I don’t want you to suffer, but I’m not going to help you kill yourself.”
“You’re selfish!” she shouts, and attempts to stand.
I try to assist her to her feet, but she shakes off my hand. “Don’t touch me.”
The mood on the walk back to the house is icy on account of Mom’s cold shoulder, but I try to ease the tension. “Mom, let’s get along. I love you.”
“Well, I don’t love you. Go away from me.”
Her words plunge deep into my heart, and I stop to let her walk ahead without me.
15
Return of Rattlesnake Patty. Bob’s gone.
Raphael is MIA—again.
BY THE time I make it back into the house, I’m hot, clammy, and exhausted from fighting off horseflies with the shovel until I finally gave up and ran.
Lindsey is in the kitchen making lunch and wearing one of her flowing sundresses. She looks young and happy and is chatting with the skinny guy from Simon’s crew. His name is Jim Poulet and he is so Cajun, I can hardly understand a word out of his mouth. Lindsey smiles and laughs as if she doesn’t see me leaning against the door, gasping for breath.
Somewhere in the house someone is banging a hammer, and my head pounds in time with it.
Mom returns to the kitchen long enough to announce, “I want lunch in the parlor.” Her gaze narrows and she points a bony finger at me. “I don’t want to see her face.”
Everything stops, and the kitchen goes silent as my face flushes deeper. My shoulders are sore from carrying those stupid tools in that stupid bucket that we never even used, my feet hurt, and I can feel tiny gnats in my throat. The day started off so good, which makes this turn of events all the harder to bear.
I want off this roller coaster. I thought I could ride it out, but I can’t. I’m not as strong a person