I surveyed Mom. Her cheeks were thinner, bags beneath her eyes, and what was left of her hair was in some sort of greased clump on the top of her head. She swayed slightly as we both took a seat on the couch, and I realized that she was gripping the edge of her seat with weak fingers.
“You might like a hearing aide,” I said. She had stopped wearing her thin-framed glasses days ago, saying they were too uncomfortable to bother with. The past week she developed a sudden need to just be comfortable.
“You and I both know I would hate it,” she said. “Now, are you going to show me what’s in that notebook?”
I glanced at the paper notebook tucked away in my arm.
“If you’re not feeling okay,” I started, but she shook her head.
“I’m fine. Tell me about your stories and ideas, Gavin. The only reason I woke up today was to hear them.” She settled against the couch’s cushions and patted the spot beside her.
“Okay,” I murmured, not wanting to dwell too much on her words. I scooted next to her and opened the notebook. “So, it’s a detective story.”
“I know, I picked it,” she said. I smiled.
“About a man traveling home to his brother’s funeral,” I said. “But when he gets there, he gets a letter from his brother telling him that he’s still alive, and the man has to follow three clues to find his brother.”
“What about the funeral?” she asked. “Doesn’t the man see his brother’s body?”
I sh
ook my head. “It’s closed casket, gun to the head,” I said.
“And the end?” she asked. “Does he find him?”
I watched as she poured through my notes before taking them away from her.
“I guess you’ll just have to read it and find out,” I said. Mom’s smile dimmed. “I already started on the first chapter. It won’t take me long, I promise.”
Her frail hand wrapped around my wrist, and I nearly gasped. It was cold as if she were already a corpse, and so light that I could barely feel any strength behind it.
“I’m getting worse, Gavin,” she said. “I can’t walk, can barely stand, and I can’t eat anything. The light hurts, and the dark gives me a headache.”
“We’ll go see Dr. Lemonis tomorrow,” I said. “He’ll get you some medicine.”
“No, Gavin,” she sighed. “I’m not getting better. It’s weird, I never thought I’d say this, but I can feel my life shortening. I don’t have much longer.”
“You had six months,” I said. “It hasn’t even been half of that yet.”
“The doctor was being kind; he said that was the most I had,” she said with a sad smile. “But maybe I will make it the rest of the six months.”
“What do you want?” I asked. “Do you want to go anywhere? Have anything delivered?” I moved to face her. “Anything, Mom.”
She closed her eyes and nodded before looking at me.
“I really like Maddie,” she said. I frowned, not understanding what Maddie had to do with anything.
“Me too,” I said.
“I’ll get to the point; do you think she’s the one?” she asked. I opened my mouth and closed it. I hadn’t even thought of Maddie since I arrived, but I should have known Mom would eventually get to this topic. I wanted to see her happy at least.
“You’ll be at the wedding,” I said. “You’ll be in a gown of your choosing, and you’ll see Maddie in the most beautiful white wedding dress.”
“You can’t plan a wedding in six months,” Mom said. “You can barely plan one in a year.”
I saw her words as a challenge. “I’ll ask her tomorrow night,” I said. “I’ll ask her to marry me, we’ve already talked about it enough, and if she says yes, we’ll have the wedding this weekend.”
“You’ll plan a wedding for this weekend?” Mom raised an eyebrow. “Gavin, do you have any idea how impossible that is?”