“I’m never too busy for you.” She pats the bed next to her and puts the book she was reading down on the nightstand. I hate it when she says corny stuff like that. It sounds fake, like a line she would write for one of her stupid ads. But I can’t let that distract me, not now.
“You haven’t given me much time to plan something,” I tell her. “But as maid of honor, I’m supposed to throw a bachelorette party.”
“Oh, sweetie. I don’t need a party.”
“Good, because you’re not getting one.” I try to sound more cute than snarky, but I’m not sure it worked. “But I did want to do something.”
Mom’s eyes get all big and wide and I don’t want her to start crying, so I get up and go back to my room for the gift bag full of everything I got at Dox.
I hand her the bag, and she holds it in both of her hands as if it is something really special, and I hope she doesn’t have her hopes set too high, because it’s not that big of a deal.
She takes the tissue paper out one piece at a time, like she’s trying to make this whole thing last as long as humanly possible. The first thing she takes out is the L’Oréal clay face mask.
“I figured we could both use a little beauty treatment before tomorrow.”
“It’s perfect, thank you.”
“There’s more.” She pulls out the blue nail polish next. I can tell from her face she’s trying to figure out how to get out of painting her fingers blue. “It’s for your toes, you know, something blue.”
“I love it.”
She pulls the pink polish out, and then the No Gray Quick Fix touch-up for her hair. Based on the way her lips press together, I probably should have left that one out.
“And I have ice cream downstairs,” I say, trying to recover. “Mint chocolate chip.” Mom doesn’t say anything, and I hope I didn’t do something wrong. “It’s not much.”
Her face relaxes in a smile. “It’s just how I wanted to spend my last night as a single woman.”
A noise comes from the baby monitor on her nightstand and we both hold our breath. She reaches over and takes it in her hand, watching the video of dad sleeping downstairs.
“He’s okay,” she says, relief thick in her voice. She sets it back down, then looks at me. “I was going to give this to you tomorrow, but I might as well do it now.”
Mom opens the drawer in her nightstand and takes out a wrapped box that’s not much bigger than a deck of cards. It feels light in my hands as I peel the paper from its corners, one at a time.
Inside, there’s a white box with the green script logo of Emerald Lady Jewelry. I hesitate before lifting the lid. I’ve never had real jewelry—just the fake stuff from Charming Charlie.
I open the box and my jaw literally drops. “Are you serious?”
Mom nods and looks like she’s about to cry again. I take two tiny diamond studs out of the box. Each one isn’t bigger than a pea, but they are the sparkliest, most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.
“Are they real?”
Mom nods. “Tomorrow is as much for you as it is for your dad and me. It’s about you and me and us. Our family.”
“Can I try them on?”
“Of course.” Mom looks so happy you’d think she was the one who just got a pair of amazingly gorgeous diamond earrings.
I take the small silver studs out of my ears one at a time and set them in the box, carefully replacing them with the diamonds. I walk into the bathroom to look in the mirror, turning my head as tiny rainbows dance around the room.
Mom walks up behind me and I look at our reflections, mirror images of each other. I move my head to the left and the right, watching my ears sparkle.
“Beautiful,” Mom says, and I have to agree. “Should we do the ice cream first, or the masks?”
“Let’s start with the mask and eat the ice cream while it dries?”
“Perfect.”
She grabs two cloth headbands from the bathroom drawer and hands one to me. We both sit on her bed as she takes the jar out and hands me the empty box to read the instructions.
“‘Apply an even layer to clean, dry skin,’” I read. “We should wash our faces first.”
“Okay, meet back here in five?”
I nod and head into my bathroom to wash my face. This is actually more fun than I thought it was going to be. It helps that Mom is acting close to normal, and the earrings definitely didn’t hurt, either. I admire them in the mirror again and make sure the backs are on tight before I turn the water on.
Back in Mom’s room, I read the rest of the instructions.
“‘Avoid the eye and lip area and leave on for ten to fifteen minutes. Remove with warm water in circular motions to exfoliate.’”
Mom twists the lid off and offers it to me first. I dip two fingers in the jar, scooping out a bit of clay before handing it back to her. It feels wet and cool as I spread it over my forehead, then down my cheeks.
I look up at Mom and laugh. “You look ridiculous.”
“Well, you don’t look much better,” she says. I can tell she’s trying to smile, but the clay is already starting to dry, making it hard to move her mouth.
“How long did it say to keep it on?” Mom asks. Her voice sounds funny since she can’t open her mouth all the way.
“Ten to fifteen minutes.” My voice sounds just as strange.
“Set your phone for twelve?”
I reach for my phone to set the timer. “Let’s get the ice cream,” I say, even though we might not be able to move our mouths enough to eat it.
“Then nails?”
“Perfect.” If Mom always acted this cool, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to like her.
We’re halfway out the door when we hear it, groaning coming both from downstairs and the baby monitor. “Why don’t you stay up here?” Mom says. “I’ll check on Dad and bring the ice cream up?”
I nod, afraid to say anything. I know I should go down and help, but it’s too hard to see him like this. I hope he’ll be okay for the wedding tomorrow, so it won’t be too little, too late.
I climb onto the bed and lean back against the headboard, hugging a pillow from what used to be Dad’s side of the bed. I can hear Mom’s voice through the monitor.
“It’s okay,” she says. “It’s okay.”
I know she’s comforting Dad, but it feels like she’s comforting me, too. I grab the baby monitor and watch the video screen as Mom angles the bed up higher. She helps him put the oxygen tubes in his nose then moves to rub his back.
Once his breathing is back to normal, he looks up and asks, “What’s on your face?”
“It’s a mud mask—CeCe bought it for us to do together.” The picture on the video screen is grainy, but I know my dad well enough to know he’s raising an eyebrow. “What?” Mom says.
I can’t see her face, but I know she’s got a geeky grin as wide as she can stretch her mouth with this stupid mask on.
“Nothing,” Dad says. “It’s nice, that’s all.”
“We’re eating ice cream next, want some? Might feel good on your throat.”
Dad shakes his head. “Just sit with me for another minute?”
“Of course.”
He slides over to make room for my mom and I feel a little weird watching such a private moment. They’re my parents, but like Dad said the other day, they’re people, too.
The timer on my cell phone goes off, so I set the monitor back on the dresser and go to wash the mask off my face. I consider calling down to Mom, but I figure a few more minutes won’t hurt. And those minutes are better spent where she is, anyway.
I know I haven’t been making any of this easier on her. But it’s not like I can just wipe the slate clean and forget about fourteen years’ worth of disappointments. Even if I do forgive her, we can’t just snap our fingers and start being close. Although she would love that.
After I wipe the last bit of mud from my cheek, my skin feels soft and new. I consider my face, a carbon copy of hers. Maybe
I can start by not hating her so much.
For Dad’s sake.
Chapter Forty-Four
Tommy
Sometimes I regret it.
In the quiet moments when it’s just me and Lexie. When she laughs, and for a second, it’s like everything is back to normal. When she’s holding my hand and I see the faraway look in her eyes. When I don’t ask what she’s thinking because I already know. And I know that if I did ask, she wouldn’t tell me the truth.
In the loud moments, too. When CeCe is being her fiercely independent self. When she does something that makes me stop and realize she isn’t a little girl anymore, but she’s not quite an adult yet, either. She’s stuck in that in-between, kind of like I am now.
In those moments, I wonder if I should have fought it. If I should have tried harder, to make my time here with them last longer. More time. I want more time. Even if it’s just one day more.
But then I see CeCe laughing or smiling in a carefree moment before she catches herself and stops. Her poker face is as bad as her mother’s. I can see the thoughts fluttering behind her eyes, see her thinking, I shouldn’t be laughing.
I never wanted to be the reason for her sadness.
And Lexie, my heart. She doesn’t believe me, but she’s the only woman I ever really loved. Even when we were kids, it was her. It was always her. There’s a photo from a summer when we were kids. The two of us are on the beach with Jill and Adam.
We’d just devoured a box of Popsicles; I no doubt had two. Our lips, red and purple and green and blue, are all smiling. Jill is smiling because she has no idea that when she grows up and marries Adam, he’ll cheat and leave her alone to put her dreams back together and raise two amazing kids on her own. Adam is smiling because even back then, he acted like he owned the world. Lexie is smiling because she always smiles on the outside. And then there’s me—the only one who isn’t looking at the camera. But I’m smiling, because I’m looking at Lexie.
She’s still the reason I smile. She’s the reason I wake up each morning, even when it hurts. I want so badly to be that same thing for her. I used to be. But now . . . I hate being the reason her eyes look sad. I hate hearing her cry from our bedroom upstairs. I hate that I can’t climb the damn stairs to crawl in bed with her, to hold her and let her know that she’ll be okay. I hate the way she comes downstairs each morning, smiling that smile she thinks is hiding the pain.
It’s those moments when I see what it’s doing to them, this disease that’s killing my body breath by breath. That’s when I know I made the right decision. Because even though I’m the one who’s sick, it’s killing all of us. And it would be selfish of me to hold on, to make them suffer even one more day than they have to. I’ve been there, where they are.
And I know the longer I’m here, the longer they’re hurting, the longer it will take them to heal. I know they’ll be okay. CeCe is going to be even more amazing than she already is. She’s got enough of her mother’s independence and stubbornness to make sure of that. Together with the thoughtfulness and introspective view of the world she got from me, there will be no stopping my baby girl.
And Lexie. If she can make it through this, she can survive anything. I know this has been hard. Staying for her has never been easy, but I now know she’ll never run. This summer has changed her, too.
CeCe doesn’t know it, but my sweet girl is so lucky. One day she’ll realize just how special and amazing her mother is. And hopefully, she’ll be able to look back and think her old man wasn’t so bad, either.
Of all the things I hope for, I hope these aren’t the days she holds on to, the days she remembers when she thinks of me. I hate that it’s how I remember my mom most, lying sick in bed. Of course with her, it was sick years, not sick months.
When CeCe is grown-up, maybe with children of her own, I hope she can look back and smile at all of the good times: the way we danced in the kitchen with her tiny feet on mine, the after-school snacks around the kitchen table, driving her to and from ballet and piano and gymnastics and theater. The bedtime stories and Saturday-morning snuggles, watching cartoons in bed between her mom and me.
I hope she remembers how much I loved her. Love her. Even when I’m gone, my love for her will still be here.
Damn, this is hard.
Sometimes I wish I didn’t know it was coming. That I didn’t have all this time, as short as it is, to think about what I’m leaving behind. It would be easier if I just went to bed one day and never woke up.
But then I wouldn’t be able to say goodbye. I wouldn’t be able to put this last plan, my last gift, into motion.
Even though it’s for Lexie, it’s for me, too.
And CeCe.
It’s for all of us.
Chapter Forty-Five
Alexis
As I walk down the stairs on my wedding day, I’m happy to see that Dolly is already there. Her smile and her presence are a relief after last night.
“How are you doing this morning, bride?” Dolly asks, whispering the last part.
“Last night was tough,” I tell her. “I wasn’t sure, I thought—” I look down, not able to say the words, to admit that I worried all of our planning would be for nothing. One minute, my heart was swelling with love from CeCe’s unexpected gift, and the next it was in my throat.
Dolly reaches for my hand and tucks it between hers. “We’re going to get him there, I promise you that.”
“Thank you,” I tell her, even though those two words don’t come nearly close enough to conveying how much I appreciate her.
“It’s nothing,” Dolly says, breaking eye contact. Even if she doesn’t admit it, I know she feels it, too.
“It’s the opposite of nothing,” I tell her. “You do know that, don’t you?”
Dolly looks back at me, confusion on her face. “I’m just doing my job.”
“Your job is to take care of Tommy,” I tell her. “But you’ve been taking such good care of me, too.”
“Oh, dear heart.” Dolly brushes a tear from her eye and pulls me in for a hug. “You know, I think this wedding is just what the doctor ordered—for both of you.”
I nod, giving her one more squeeze before letting her get back to work.
“Now, as much as I’d love to have you sit here and talk with me all day, I think you have somewhere you need to be getting off to,” Dolly says, a sparkle in her eye. It’s beyond me how someone can be around so much sadness and still exude such happiness. “Enjoy your day today; it’s such a beautiful thing you’re doing for him.”
I blink away the tears and try to focus on the fact that if all goes as planned, I will be a married woman by the end of the day. And I hope with all my heart that I’ll get to enjoy being a newlywed before I become a widow.
I throw the two bottles of nail polish we didn’t get around to using last night in my purse, hoping I’ll have a chance to paint my nails over at Jill’s. The schedule is already tight—CeCe is down at The Broken Crown with Lou, putting the finishing touches on the cake. She’s coming back soon to sit with Tommy while I walk to Jill’s to get ready.
Jack’s going to do my hair and makeup—he and Blake said they were driving down before I even got the question out. He offered to do CeCe’s hair as well, but she thought that would give it away for her dad. She might be just as excited about this whole thing as I am.
Jill was right. I can’t imagine how this would have gone if I hadn’t told her. I’m trying not to go overboard, showing CeCe how much everything she’s doing means to me, but I’ve never been good at hiding how I feel.
I’m going to have to hide it now, I remind myself as I walk into the living room, where Tommy’s been drifting in and out of sleep. He knows there’s something going on, but I don’t think he’s figured out what. I’ve been turning his proposals down for the last fifteen years, so I’m sure this is the last thing he’d expect.
“Your skin,” he says as I lean closer to kiss him goodbye. “It’s glowing.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to die today.”
I force a smile, even though these comments are getting harder and harder to stomach.
“That’s a relief,” I try to tease back. “Jill would be very upset if you missed this dinner she’s planning. She’s making all your favorites, and CeCe’s making dessert.”
“I can’t wait.”
“I’m going to go over and help if you think you’ll be okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” he says with a smile. “It’s Jill I’m worried about—promise me you won’t try to help with the cooking?”
“I’m not that bad in the kitchen,” I say in my defense.
“You are the best order-out-er I’ve ever met.”
“And don’t you forget it.” I give him one more kiss before I go. “You and CeCe should head over around six. Dolly’s going to help.”
“Got it.” Tommy gives me a half salute before putting his oxygen cannula in and closing his eyes. He’s been wearing it more and more lately. A simple conversation is enough to wear him out.
WALKING DOWN THE street toward Jill’s house, I feel a little lighter with each step. Every breath of salty air is bringing me slowly back to life, filling me with excitement for the day ahead.
This is really happening.
Jack is out the door before I even open the front gate. He and Jill still look like spitting images of each other, although Jack’s freckled face looks younger, his skin tighter—probably from all the product he has access to at the salon. But they both have the same smile that lights up their eyes, and the same red hair that’s calmed into a rusty shade of brown. “You didn’t wash your hair, did you?”
“Good to see you, too.” I laugh. “And no, I followed your instructions.”
“That’s my girl.” He folds me into a hug and kisses the top of my head. “I love that you’re doing this.”
“And I love that you’re here; thank you for coming.”
“Please, as if you could keep me away.”
“Where’s Blake?” I ask.
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