Southern Desire (Southern Heart 2)

A light tapping noise on my bedroom door pulls me from my slumber. I feel like my head just hit the pillow. Sleep is not something I’ve been doing much of these last few weeks, at least not until exhaustion hits and my body crashes. That’s what happened this time. I’ve been spending every minute I can with Mom. Her hospice nurse says it won’t be long and she promised me that if I tried to get a little sleep she would wake me at the first sign of any changes.

The tap more than likely means there is a change. I stare at my door, willing her to go away. I’m not ready to face it. I’m not ready to say good-bye to her, to let her go. I know that she will be in a better place, I know that she will no longer be suffering, but I’m selfish and I’m just not ready. She’s all I have. Well, not technically. I have my aunt, Jenny, and her husband, Mike Sr., who live in Kentucky, but here in Indy, my hometown, she’s my only family.

I don’t want to do this.

Reluctantly, I climb out of bed, my body fighting me every step. I ache all over from exhaustion. Slowly, I crack open my bedroom door to see Mary standing there, her face grim.

“Whitney, it won’t be long now.”

I can feel the tears building along with the lump in my throat. This is it. I swallow back the emotion and nod, letting her know I understand.

“I’ll give you a minute to get yourself pulled together,” Mary says before walking down the hall to my mother’s bedroom.

Silently, I close the door and rest my forehead against it. Suddenly it’s hard to breathe. Hot tears trail down my cheeks unchecked. My heart is racing and my palms are sweating. I don’t know how I’m going to do this. How am I going to say good-bye to the one person who has always been there for me? The woman who gave me life. The one who raised me on her own with no help from my deadbeat father who took off before I was even born.

Wiping my eyes, I stand to my full height, take a deep, shuddering breath, and open the door. She’s been so damn strong through all of this, I need to be that for her now. I need to show her that she raised a strong woman who hopes that one day she can be half the mother she is.

My feet carry me down the hall. I have to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. When I reach her room, Mary is there placing another blanket over her.

“There she is,” Mary says in a chipper yet quiet voice. Whatever she gets paid, it’s not enough. All of them, the entire hospice crew, have been amazing during this time. I don’t know what we would have done without them.

“Hey,” I say, making my way into the room. I perch myself on the edge of her hospital bed; her eyes follow me.

Mom rests her hand on my knee, and I place mine over hers. She’s nothing but skin and bones. The cancer has eaten away at her. She put up a hell of a fight, but in the end, it was just too much.

Fucking cancer!

“How’s m-my girl?” She stumbles over her words. She’s so damn weak.

I shake my head, because I can’t lie to her. I’ve never lied to her and I’m not going to start now.

“Whit, it’s time.”

Just like that. She’s accepted this. She fought like hell, but after her last scans, the doctors told us there was nothing else they could do. She accepted her fate. I’ve known this was coming for a few months now, but nothing can prepare you for the pain of losing your mother.

“I love you,” I say, because I need her to know that. If nothing else, I need her to understand what she means to me.

“Oh, my sweet girl, I love you too. Whitney Grace, you are my greatest accomplishment in this life.”

I want to memorize her features. Although she’s thin and frail, she’s still the same woman who bandaged my skinned knees, the same one who would write little notes in my lunch box every day. The same woman who held me after my first heartbreak. The woman who is in every memory, every thought, every aspect of my life. I want to remember her then and now, so I never forget the fight. She gave her all to beat this, but in the end, it just wasn’t enough.

Tears cloud my vision as I look into her green eyes that mirror mine. Eyes that were once filled with so much joy and laughter are now filled with acceptance. She’s tired.

It’s time.

“Whit,” she says, winded. It’s harder for her to talk. Mary puts her hand on my shoulder; I look over at her and she nods.

No.

No.

No.

I’m not ready.

“Not long now,” Mary whispers to me.

Shit! “I’m going to be okay. You raised me. There is no other option.”

Her lips tilt a little, a hint of a smile.

“I love you, Whitney Grace.” I watch as she struggles to breathe. “Promise me you will open your heart. Find him, the one who flips your world upside down, and let him love you.” Her voice is barely a whisper.

She closes her eyes and my body trembles, knowing this is it. I will never hear her voice again, never see her smile, never feel her arms wrap around me just because.

“I love you,” I sob. I can still see her chest rising and falling; it’s slow and irregular, but it’s there. Stretching out on the bed, I lay my head on her chest and listen for her heartbeat.

I’m not ready to let her go.

Her hand rests on the back of my head and the dam breaks. I lose all control on my emotions as the tears rack my body. I literally feel as though my heart is breaking. There is a pain in the center of my chest and a void in my soul. Mary places her hand on my arm and rubs soothingly. I focus on taking a deep breath and that’s when it happens. Her chest rises and falls rapidly and then there is silence. I can no longer feel the beat of her heart or the sporadic rise and fall of her breaths.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Mary says, her hand on my shoulder.

I don’t respond. I can’t. Instead, I lie still, willing her to take another breath.

“Time of death, 5:15 a.m.,” Mary says, so low I can barely hear her. “Whitney, I’m going to go make the call. You can sit with her until the funeral home arrives.”

I don’t respond to her. I can’t.

I’m numb.

She’s gone.

Forever.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me.”

“Trust me, I’ve thought about this. I love you, but they’re my family. Olivia hooked me up with a friend of hers from high school who has her own studio. I have a job, a place to stay, and I’ll be with my aunt and uncle and cousins. I think it will be good for me.”