Fake Marriage Box Set

“I’ll be right there,” I said to Karen and shook my head at Ron. “You go have fun. I’ll call you later.”

Ron left to spend the beginning of the evening with a beautiful blonde, while I rushed to my dying mother’s house.

Karen met me outside of the house, which instantly made me lash out at her.

“Don’t you ever leave her alone like this ever again!” I yelled and slammed the door shut behind us. My fear and rage bubbled inside of me until it was threatening to explode.

“I’m sorry, Gavin, but she absolutely refuses to move from the kitchen,” Karen said. I followed her into the kitchen where mom was leaning against the counter with harsh, shallow breaths. She was forcing herself to stand by her arms, which were already weak, and she was close to fainting. I ran toward her and put my arms beneath hers.

“Mom!” I practically screamed. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I don’t want to go to bed,” she said. Her tiny frame was shaking violently. “It’s not my bedtime.”

“You need to rest,” Karen pleaded behind us. “She took all her medicine today without any food. She’ll pass out if she doesn’t lay down.”

“I don’t need to lie down,” mom said. “I just need to finish these damn dishes.”

The sink had one cup stained with coffee and a plate with crumbs from a cookie.

“I’ll finish them,” I said in a softer voice. “Just go rest, and I’ll finish them.”

“Get the hell off of me,” she demanded and pushed me away. “You don’t know how I feel, or what this is doing to me.”

It felt as if my heart broke into tiny pieces. H

er face had a yellow hue, and her hair was matted at the roots and barely hanging by a thread. It was far thinner than I remembered, and it might not last much longer. I also realized that she had lost enough weight to make her already shallow cheeks even more sunken, and there were black bruises beneath her eyes and across her forehead. I pulled her against me as the reality of the situation truly hit. My mother was dying, and she was afraid.

“I’ll finish the stupid dishes,” I said and held her at arm's length. She looked away from me, but I knew I was winning.

“We’re out of dish soap,” she mumbled.

“I’ll buy some,” I said.

“Well look at that,” she laughed. “All of a sudden I’m tired.”

She leaned against my arm as I led her toward her room. She hesitated near the bed, where the sheets were crumpled and flung across the top.

“You got into a fight with Karen?” I asked and fixed the bed. Her medications were on the side table, and momentarily I wondered how long she would take them. The entire six months? What was the point?

“Just a little,” she admitted. “I know I was wrong, I’m sorry. Sometimes I just feel so damn angry.”

“I understand,” I said and helped her into the bed. I fluffed her pillows and moved them so that her back was sitting against the wall. “Are there any shows you want?” I turned on the TV and offered the remote to her.

“Just something on Netflix,” she said. “Oh, maybe that new superhero show. I’ve heard it’s good.”

I smiled, knowing exactly which one she was talking about. Not many people knew this, but my mom had quite the comic book collection sitting in storage. She had been the biggest nerd growing up and had run to the comic store every Wednesday morning for the new releases. She had given me her collection when I turned of age. They were worth several tens of thousands of dollars, and she had wanted me to sell them and pay for college. I pretended I did, until my graduation when I gifted her with both my diploma and a box full of graded comics that never once saw the light of day.

I still remembered how glossy her eyes had become as she hugged me and thanked me for keeping them. I had said that she already sacrificed so much for me, and I was never going to let her give up anything else.

I did, however, take out one particular comic and ruined the quality by reading it over and over again. Captain America, the very first issue where he appeared, had been my favorite go-to bedtime read after rough exams and weeks of late-night studying. Captain American quickly became our favorite thing to talk about together. Watching the movies, reading comic books, obsessing over new TV shows that might feature him.

“The next season is rumored to have our favorite American hero,” I said and began playing one of the latest superhero TV shows. “But that’ll come out late next year, so we’ll have to wait and see.”

My mouth caught up before my mind, and I abruptly ended my sentence. The room fell into an uncomfortable silence. How dumb was I? Wait and see? Mom wouldn’t know about anything that happened after six months. And the last thing I should be doing is reminding her.

“Have you thought about what I asked?” she asked after a moment of silence. She was staring at the TV, where I had paused the show.

I couldn’t disappoint her more than I had already; she deserved happy news. But I couldn’t just lie to her. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that she needed happy news. Maybe that fake marriage wouldn’t be such a bad idea.