Fatal

by S. T. Hill

So, holding that singular acceptance envelope, I went back upstairs. I tried to affect a look that mixed excitement with disappointment and sadness.

  Chapter 3

  My shoulders slumped as I went into her bedroom. She smiled, and I gave her a wan curve of my lips in return. She saw the envelope as I sat down in the lawn chair.

  "What's that?" she asked.

  I handed it to her. She pulled out the contents. In addition to the letter, there were brochures for residence dormitories, suggestions for first year supplies, even a few pamphlets for the apparently "historic" town of Hazelglen.

  Mom covered her mouth with one skeletal hand as her eyes widened. They scanned the lines on the letter.

  "Oh, Steph, this is so amazing..." she said.

  Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. They left glistening trails down her cheeks. A lump formed in my throat. I couldn't leave her alone. I'd never leave her alone. I felt better about hiding the other letter.

  She looked at me, her face changing when she saw my expression. "Oh, sweetie, what's wrong?"

  "It's too far away," I said, feeling some genuine pressure behind my own eyes, "I can't go. I'd be leaving you behind..."

  "Stephanie," mom started.

  "No, you really can't get by without me. You know it. If that had been from, I dunno, UCLA or CalTech or something, it would be different. But it's just too far."

  I thought of the other envelope, down in the recycling bin in the mail room. I looked down at my hands, clasped together tightly on my lap. I couldn't look her in the eye as she watched me. This was too important.

  "Here," mom said, papers rustling.

  She handed me the envelope. It was heavy, the paper slightly damp from the two of us pawing at it in excitement.

  Then she grabbed my shoulders and pulled me in for a hug. Her remaining strength was much more than I thought, and I found myself almost falling out of my chair. She kissed the top of my head. That smell was so strong near her, but I couldn't pull away.

  I rested my cheek against her chest, feeling her ribs pressed against me through that sweater. It was both amazing and terrifying what cancer, and the drugs used to treat it, could do to a person. Her body was little more than skin stretched over a skeleton.

  Yet she still had the will to hold me against her like that.

  I had to grab her lunch, which was really just a few slices of white bread on a plate and a glass of water. She couldn't keep a lot of stuff down, and insisted on this simple diet. When I put the plate on her nightstand, she smiled at me again. Her eyes were still red from the tears, and I looked quickly down at my feet as I felt the pressure building behind my own eyes.

  After that, I went to my bedroom. I flicked on the light, the bulb in the socket a weaker than necessary one in an attempt to cut our electric bill.

  It was a crowded space, the twin bed with wooden head and footboards crowding my tiny dresser. It was so close to the wall I could only open my closet door about half way.

  I threw the envelope onto the dresser. It came to rest amongst an unruly pile of costume jewelry and a few near-empty cans of hair spray. I could have recycled it then, but I guess I considered the matter closed.

  "Already?" I whispered when I looked at my clock.

  It was coming up on lunch. I had a shift at the diner starting in about thirty minutes.

  Quickly, I grabbed up my work uniform (a pink blouse with puffy sleeves, a skirt a few shades darker, and a pair of white flats).

  My stomach growled a complaint at me. Earlier, I promised it a quick bowl of Ramen noodles. But there was no time for that, now. The diner was an easy twenty five minute walk from here. It would have been ten or less on the bus, I thought as I tugged off my shirt and shorts.

  I thought mostly of trying to get a few good tips. If I got enough, I could cover the tab at the pharmacy, and maybe even have enough left over to squirrel away for the eventual final cutoff notice.

  I didn't think at all about the envelope on my dresser as I rushed out of the apartment, or of my mom's sudden powerful desire to hug me.

  I thought instead of the pile of dishes in the sink I’d have to clean, of how I should change her sheets when I got back. Maybe even run down to the laundry room with some quarters

  That was all behind me, now. School was always going to happen, I knew. But at some indefinite point in the future. After she got better.

  ***

  I worked a double that night, getting home somewhere between three and four in the morning. I walked all the way back in the cool air. My feet ached deeply the entire way.

  Mom hated that I worked so late and then walked back, but I almost liked it. There was almost nobody out at this time. The air was almost clean and clear, and everything was so quiet. The loudest thing was the sound of my footsteps.

  The darkness, the loneliness, were almost armor to me. They made me feel safe.

  I got back inside, careful to turn the key slowly so that the deadbolt wouldn't shoot back with that loud metal clank. Once in, I turned on the small fluorescent light over the sink and used it to set up mom's breakfast (more bread and water).

  I put a layer of cling wrap over the plate to keep the bread from going all hard and stale. I could hardly feel my feet. That dull, hot ache of standing and walking for hours and hours had migrated up my calves.

  So I put the plate and the glass on her nightstand as quietly as I could, then went and collapsed on my bed. I had to get up a few seconds later when I realized that I forgot to take off my uniform. It couldn't get wrinkled. Wrinkled girls didn't get tips.

  My tips were in the pocket of my skirt; a few dollars in quarters and a wrinkled single. Tuesdays were always slow.

  I closed my eyes and let the comforting darkness of sleep swallow me up.

  Chapter 4

  Bzzt bzzt bzzt, the alarm nagged.

  I rolled over, getting some hair across the face. I'd forgotten to tie it back in my haste to get to sleep.

  Bzzt bzzt bzzt.

  A bar of sunlight lay across the foot of my bed. When I felt the heat, I pulled my legs up. It was eight thirty. As I sat up, I stretched, wincing as the muscles in my back and shoulders stretched.

  When I put my feet on the parquet floor, I sucked a breath in through my teeth. It felt like someone had taken the soles of my feet, wrung them out, tenderized them with a hammer, and then stuck them back on.

  And today I had another double. I also had those dishes waiting for me (dishes were good at waiting, always overstaying their welcome) and the laundry. Was there a delivery today from the pharmaceutical company?

  I ran my fingers through my hair, pursing my lips as I worked through the knots.

  Pulling open the top drawer of my dresser, I saw that it had to be laundry day. I was down to a final pair of grey shorts. The same ones I used in PE class last year. I pulled them on, then grabbed an old white t-shirt from the closet.

  I was about to go fix breakfast when I saw the envelope again. The corner of the acceptance letter poked out of it, and I saw the top half of the school sigil.

  It had been the right choice to stay. It had been the right choice to lie to mom.

  Well... I didn't actually lie. I just didn't tell her about the other acceptance letter. I'd have to get rid of this one, too. Today, if I could manage. Maybe when I went down with the laundry.

  Mom's voice came through the wall, then. Was she laughing? My heart dropped. What was wrong? I burst through my door out into the hallway.

  It could be a million things. She hadn't really laughed in months. Not like that, anyway. Maybe those new pills stirred something around in her brain.

  I thought about how much it was going to cost to have the ambulance come and get her as I shoved her door open.

  "Mom!" I said.

  She put her forefinger against her lips in that universal request for silence. Her other hand pressed the phone to her ear.

  "Yes, thank you. That would be amazing! Oh, and thanks again. Have a lov
ely day!" she said, the phone beeping at her as she pressed the end call button.

  There was more color in her face, today. Her eyes were clear and bright. Why did she look so happy?

  My body shook as the adrenaline coursed through it. Chilly waves rushed through my arms and legs.

  "Mom?" I said.

  I felt wary, my eyes scanning the room for anything amiss. Her plate was empty, only a little water left in the glass. The little TV was off, its curved screen giving a stretched, distorted reflection. Everything seemed to be where it belonged. That was good.

  But something was definitely different. I could feel it in the way the hairs on the back of my neck stood, in that cool nervous sensation in the pit of my stomach.

  I'd done everything so far to keep things the same. Not to have them change. Change was bad. Yes, waitress, I'll have a refill of the status quo, please.

  "Yes, Steph?" mom said, reaching idly to scratch at her scalp as though nothing was amiss.

  "Who was on the phone?" I said, looking down at it like I might look down at a snake.

  "The pharmaceutical company," she said.

  My blood turned to ice water.

  "What? Is everything okay? They're not stopping the drugs, are they?" I said.

  We couldn't afford to go back on her old medication. I couldn't handle this. I looked over at all the pill bottles on her dresser as though I could get a rough count of how long we had left. How long she had left.

  But then another part of my mind tugged at my thoughts. If they were cancelling the drugs, why would mom be happy?

  "No, no. You worry too much about me. Remember that letter they sent a while back, saying that they were looking for volunteers to study at their facility in LA?"

  "Yes..." I said, feeling like I was about to step off an invisible cliff.

  We'd talked it over and decided it was best for her to stay home, with me. I couldn't afford an apartment in LA to be close to her. It had all been decided.

  "Well, I just finished talking to one of the doctors there. He said they're still looking for people."

  She smiled at me, nodding. Normally, I would have caught her drift right away. But I was still shaking, coming down from the thought of losing all that assistance.

  "And... and what did you say, mom?"

  "I told them I'd do it," she said, grinning broadly enough that I could see all her teeth.

  I didn't understand. Couldn't she see I was doing all this for her?

  "But... why?" I said, leaning against the doorframe. My knees felt like jelly.

  Mom frowned at me, as though it were obvious.

  "So you can go off to school! Why else?" she said, her cheeks coloring.

  "What?" I said, catching myself against the doorframe.

  All the heat in my body seemed to concentrate in my chest and stomach. Mom's smile didn't even falter. She thought I was excited! That I was happy!

  I could feel the weight of that future pressing down on me, closing in fast. Why was it all going wrong? I didn't want to be away from her, not when she was like this!

  "Call them back," I said, lurching into the room.

  Grabbing the phone from her bed, I held it out to her. This time, her smile did fail her. Two little creases formed between her eyebrows as she looked at me, as she saw the phone shaking in my grip.

  "Call them back and tell them you don't want to."

  She laid her fingers over my hand and gently pushed down on the phone, making me lower it to my side. Then she squeezed my palm.

  "But Steph, this is what you want. Isn't it?"

  My mouth opened, but no sound came out. Instead, a breathed in a long, shuddering gulp of air. I could almost taste that sweet, cloying scent coming off her body.

  "You've always wanted to go off to school, ever since you were little. Remember?" she said.

  Her skin felt like thin, dry paper against mine. It felt like the slightest jerk would tear it open. I covered my mouth with my hand.

  Mom nodded, "Oh, don't worry about me. I'll be fine at the research center."

  My breath caught in my throat as something pushed at the back of my eyes. Guilt mixed in with the apprehension and anxiety already stirring in the pit of my stomach. Yeah, I worried about her. But I found myself worrying about me more. Sure, our existence was almost the definition of miserable. But it was familiar.

  This school wasn't even on my side of North America! I couldn't go there. I wouldn't.

  "Please, just call..." I said, offering the phone again. Its plastic casing already felt slick and warm from my sweat.

  "I've made up my mind. You don't know how it feels to lie here in this bed, gobbling down a handful of pills every day. All I think about is how I'm holding you back. We're both alive, but not really living. I want you to go and live."

  I sank down onto my knees beside the bed. From there, I had to look up into my mother's face. The way the sun was coming in through the window caught in the wisps of her hair, making it look like they were burning.

  I felt very small, then, like a little kid. I wanted to call for my mom, but I knew she wouldn't help. She did stroke the back of my head. It was amazing how much better that made me feel. How could something so simple as that pull me up out of my worry?

  "The best part is, they've arranged everything. In one week, they'll be sending a van to come get me and a few things I'm allowed to take."

  "What about all our stuff?" I said, looking around.

  We didn't have a whole lot. Just about all our valuables had been sold already to help pay the medical bills. We had some furniture, some DVDs, CDs, lots of books and magazines. But it was all ours.

  There was so much I'd have to do.

  "I'm so proud of you for getting accepted," mom said, "I know you'll be great! You know, it makes me feel good to just think about it. So, no more of this about calling them back, right?"

  I pulled her hand over to my cheek. If she could do this, so could I. I mean, come on, she has cancer! All I would be doing would be moving across the country to a place I'd never been before to go to a college I'd never heard of.

  For the first time, I found myself feeling the barest hint of excitement at the idea. I'd been stalled for so long, I wasn't certain I could feel that way anymore. It was good, but frightening at the same time.

  "Okay," I said.

  I pushed her hand against my face and closed my eyes, willing my mind to imprint this moment in my memory. It felt like I was on one of those long, swaying rope bridges between two sheer cliffs.

  I was right in the middle of it, and every puff of air across the old wooden boards sent the whole thing creaking. Behind me was my past, and ahead of me my future. And someone was slowly but surely working a sharp blade through the ropes.

  Chapter 5

  My applications and subsequent acceptance were both late. It was mid-July when everything happened. The semester at Redeemer began in just over two weeks.

  In all that time I had to explain to the landlord why we weren't giving him two months' notice about leaving the apartment. I had to throw a ton of ads up on Kijiji, Craigslist, and eBay to get rid of as much stuff as possible.

  Then I had to find some way to either get rid of or give away whatever remained.

  Not having to pay August's rent really helped with things, of course. It even let me get rid of enough shifts down at the diner so that I was no longer locked in that cycle of sleep, take care of mom, work, sleep.

  For the first time since mom had sat me down in the kitchen last year right before I graduated to tell me she had an inoperable tumor pressing against her spine, I felt free.

  But freedom doesn't mean the same thing as good or happy.

  No, I had to spend some time down at the Galleria, picking up notebooks, pencils, pens, a messenger bag, and a few bits of clothes I had to constantly fight with myself over whether or not to return them.

  I used the free internet access down at the library to wrap all my online dealings up, as w
ell as to do a little research on Massachusetts.

  It was going to get cold there, I knew. I'd never really left SoCal my whole life, and I had countless tubes of sun block to prove it.

  But buying winter gear would have to wait until I got there. No one sold anything like that around here. Why would you? It snowed maybe once a year. Ninety percent sunshine, baby!

  Snow looked like it could be fun, piled all high like in the movies. But I had this awful feeling I was going to hate it like a cat hates taking a bath.

  All this gear I packed into two old suitcases and a backpack I'd gotten in a trade off Craigslist for some DVDs.

  I'd followed the checklist the school had sent, but it still felt like I was forgetting everything. For a few days there, mom became my mother again, consoling me when I flew into a panic over whether I'd remember how to take notes in class, or if I should use a three-ring binder or a clipboard.

  It really made her happy to see me like that, and I felt almost as though I was putting on a show for her. I couldn't really be this girlish over choosing a few new pairs of jeans and flats, could I?

  One night I woke up in a sweat, realizing that there would be boys at this school.

  I hadn't hung out with guys my own age since high school ended. I stayed up for an hour, the weak digits on the clock ticking away the minutes of the early morning as I fussed with my hair and tried to remember how to do my makeup in a more everyday manner, rather than the exaggerated stuff expected at the diner to try and get more tips.

  By the time the week ended, I felt even less prepared than when I'd started getting ready.

  It was Friday morning. For once, the sky outside was overcast. Outside, the street looked damp. Looking straight down from my bedroom, some big rectangles of cardboard someone had tossed the night before sagged under their own weight as they absorbed the moisture from the air.

  My bed was gone, as was my dresser. I slept on an old comforter spread across the parquet floor, with a sweater balled up for a pillow. There were still a few bags of old clothes I had to drop off at the Salvation Army a couple blocks over.

  But I wasn't really looking at the cardboard. I was looking for the big white van coming to take my mother away.