Page 15 of Make It Last

“You do not look like shit. You look good.”

“I showered today,” I offered with a grin.

She glanced at the whiteboard across from my bed. “Three more days and then you can be discharged.”

“I have to figure out where I’m staying for physical therapy.”

“I’m on it,” she said.

“You don’t have to?—”

“Ava,” she warned, narrowing her eyes. “I’ll find a place for you.” With a wave, she was off in a flash.

I turned on the TV and selected a cooking competition to watch. Just as the contestants started plating their meals, my phone vibrated, and my mother’s name flashed on the screen.

With a sigh, I answered, “Hey, Mom.”

“Hi, sweetheart. How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“So what’s your plan when you’re discharged?”

“I have to stay here for physical therapy.”

“Can’t you come back for that?”

“It’s a long flight. I’d need a medical ticket, and it’s stupid expensive. None of us can afford that.”

She fell quiet for a few beats. “Okay. Well, we miss you.”

“I miss you too, Mom.”

“Brad’s been by.”

Tension zipped across my shoulders. “Why?”

My parents were still disappointed I’d filed for divorce immediately after I caught Brad cheating.

“He was just saying hi. I wish?—”

I cut in. “We’re divorced, Mom. Get over it.”

“He regrets?—”

“Oh, I’m sure he regrets it,” I snapped. “Mom. Please.”

Her sigh filtered through the call. “Okay.”

I missed my parents. But I’d been busy holding everything together for everyone for so long, I didn’t know how to stop. Growing up, I’d learned to be “the easy one.” My younger sister Danielle had a head injury that led to severe seizures that required constant monitoring. She’d passed from complications after a seizure when she was seventeen. I’d been twenty-three at the time.

I’d always felt like I had to be extra—extra good, extra dependable, extra quiet. There wasn’t room for me to need anything. I became the helper. When I married Brad, I poured that same energy into him—into us. I snapped when I found out about the cheating. The humiliation still stung.

“I need to go, Mom,” I said. “One of the nurses is here.”

There wasn’t a nurse, but one could walk in at any second. I said a quick goodbye and dropped the phone on the table beside me. My mother’s hopefulness around my ex was the tiniest trigger. Brad had been the boy next door. Our parents were friends. It had all felt inevitable.

“Fuck my life,” I muttered.