Page 3 of Untamed
When I approached them about possibly needing to drop all my classes this semester, nearly all of them made it clear they were willing to work with me so I didn’t have to lose all the work I’d put in so far. I’ve been able to attend virtually and submit papers on an adjusted schedule.
It’s actually been kind of a lifesaver to have something to do. Something to focus on besides watching the best mother anyone has ever had wither away in front of me.
“That is wonderful to hear.” My mother drops my hand, picking up her fork and taking a bite of French toast. “Wonderful, but not surprising. You have always been so good at making things work.”
I watch her continue eating, that tiny bit of hope growing in spite of what I know is true. “That’s because of you. No matter what happened, you always said we would figure it out.” I manage a genuine smile for the first time in weeks. “And we always have.”
Well. Almost always. Some things can’t be figured out, no matter how hard you’re willing to work. How daring you’re willing to be. How determined you are to take action.
Like the thing that’s been slowly stealing my mother from me despite our best efforts to beat it.
“And you always will.” My mother setsdown her fork, reaching to push the hair back from my face. “I know that no matter what, you’ll always figure it out, Ruthie.”
I wish I had as much faith in me as she does. Because I don’t know how I’ll be able to figure out how to live without her. It’s always been just me and her. Once she leaves, it will be just me.
On my own.
She gives me a sad smile. “I wish I was going to be around to see what a wonderful mother you’re going to be.”
I’ve cried so much since finding out my mom was sick, I thought maybe I’d run out of tears. There haven’t been many these past few weeks, and I assumed it was because I was all dried up.
I thought wrong, because my throat goes tight and my eyes start to burn. But there’s no way I’m going to ruin this moment by breaking down and forcing her to comfort me yet again. Not when I’m the one who should be comforting her.
I stand, carefully scooting onto the bed next to her so I can wrap an arm around her shoulders. It’s hard not to react to feeling nothing but skin and bone as I carefully give her a squeeze. “If I am a wonderful mother, it’s only because I learned from the best.”
I won’t pretend she’s going to be around. Any delusions I tried to have about her diagnosis crumbled months ago. Denying our reality only hurts us both.
“Iwouldn’t say the best.” My mom rests her head on my shoulder. “But I won’t stopyoufrom saying it.”
I start to laugh, the feel of it strange on my face and in my chest because it’s been so long. My mom laughs with me, her voice getting a little hoarse as she does.
Wiping the corner of one eye, she lets out a long sigh. “On that note, I think I’ll take an after breakfast nap.”
I help collect her breakfast dishes, stacking them on the table and sliding it away before lowering the incline of her bed. She patsthe spot next to her once everything is situated. “Come lie with me.”
I do as she asks, savoring every second of her smile and her voice as I carefully position myself at her side, making sure I don’t jostle her failing body any more than absolutely necessary. As I curl up next to her, she plays with the strands of my hair while her blinks become slower and slower.
“I love you, Ruthie girl.”
It takes me a few seconds to find my voice, because I know what this is. I know what’s happening and where it leads. After a few hard swallows, I finally manage to rasp out, “I love you too.”
I lay there long after her hand stops smoothing over my hair. Long after she falls asleep. Long after she takes her final breath.
Because these are the last moments I’ll ever have with her. The last time I’ll see her face or smell her skin. The last time it will be just the two of us.
Leaving her behind is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. The only way I manage to get through it is to think about the day I’ll have some semblance of a love like this again.
When it happens, I hope I can be half the mother mine was.
1
Tucker
“She’s coming for me next. I can feel it.” After downing the last of my gin and tonic, I set the empty highball glass on the scarred wood table in front of me. The contact is a little more aggressive than I intend, sending the remaining ice rattling around like the nerves bouncing in my gut. “How hard do you think it would be to fake my own death?”
Trevor angles a brow where he sits across from me, nursing a bourbon neat, the tie at his neck loose and sagging. “While still coming into work every day? Because you know damn well you’ve got six months’ worth of jobs you have to finish before you can die.”
Walker shrugs, tipping back a swallow of his third beer. “I dunno. Tobias might be fine with helping manage Tuck’s department since death would take him out of the running for favorite uncle.”
