Page 98 of All of You

A small sigh escapes me, and I squeeze my eyes shut. It’s chilly in the house. I rub my arms to warm up. Tip-toeing to the armchair I snag a throw blanket and gently spread it over Mom. She looks different. Tired, small. Fragile. Her chest rises and falls steadily. Tears prick my eyes. I turn off the TV and head to my room.

I strip out of my dress and pull on jammies before removing the makeup and latex. I can barely keep my eyes open. The emotional weight of the evening taking a toll on me. Finally, I crawl into bed and pull the covers up to my armpits.

Night.

Langdon’s response is nearly immediate.

Night beautiful.

My lips yawn into a grin as I set my phone on the bed, pull the covers up to my neck, and close my eyes.Thank god for Langdon.

***

It’s past eight am when I wake. My body unfurls itself slowly. Stretching and yawning until my eyes open. My brain stutters for a moment, trying to decipher if last night happened—if Mom really is here. I close my eyes and listen to the house. I can hear Gramp’s heavy footfalls tromping around downstairs. Noise from the kitchen. And then I hear it—Mom’s laugh.

I blink back tears. Relief and anger aggressively warring internally with each other. Part of me wants to stay in bed—annoyed and upset—another wants to toss off the blankets, sprint down the stairs and wrap my arms around my mom. I kick my legs into the mattress, frustrated. My bladder is full and desperately trying to get me out of bed to relieve it. I force myself up and to the bathroom.

The staircase has never loomed before, but it is now. It appears to stretch on endlessly as I make my decent. At the bottom, Gramps rounds the corner from the dining room to the living room with a steaming mug of coffee in hand.

“Morning sleepyhead,” he says. “Play nice today.”

He glances back toward the kitchen. I lean forward until I’m against him. One strong arm embraces me quickly. I suck in a deep breath and turn into the kitchen.

Leaning against the door frame I watch as Mom pours herself a mug of coffee.

“Morning.”

“Delia, you’re up,” she says turning to face me. “Coffee?”

I nod.

She makes me a mug and hands it to me. Our fingers brush during the exchange and for the first time ever, it feels… weird. Almost foreign. It doesn’t feel right. I don’t like it. I don’t feel fully awake yet and my stomach clenches followed by my nose tingling and then I’m sobbing. Mom grabs my coffee and sets them both down on the stove before wrapping her arms around me and holding on tight.

“Baby, it’s ok. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you,” she whispers into my ear. “I love you. Always.”

I nod into her shoulder. My arms swing around her waist and tighten as she holds me. I can’t stop the waterworks and now my nose is running all over her shirt. I’m a grade-A disaster. She rubs my back, softly whispers in my ear all the things that make me feel better. She smells like the camper van—rain—wood smoke—home. I want to bottle it and keep it tucked away forever.

Finally, she pulls back, pushes my hair away from my face and kisses my forehead as I sniffle back my lingering sobs.

“I love you. It’s okay to be mad at me. It’s okay to be happy I’m home too. Just feel all the things.” The pads of her thumbs sweep beneath my eyes, wiping my tears away.

I wipe my nose with my forearm. “Sorry,” I say taking in the wet spot on her shirt.

“Don’t apologize,” she says.

I lift my chin. “I’m still mad, but I’m happy you’re home. Relieved.”

Her hand floats through the air, swatting the sentiment away. “We can talk about us later. What I really want to know is more about this Langdon boy. Are you dating?”

“Mom,” I groan.

“What? I’ve obviously missed a lot, fill me in.”

My eyes roll. “Coffee. I need coffee first.”

She reaches out, snags my mug, and hands it to me. We take a seat at the dining room table together. I take a sip of coffee as she watches me expectantly and then can’t help but catch her up on all things Langdon and friends and school.

***