“Wow,” he says.
“Yeah,” I breathe, my heart racing.
He turns me toward the house and pops my bottom. I yelp and glare at him.
“Go work on that other stuff. While you still can.” He chuckles. “Good night.”
“I don’t like you very much right now,” I call as I go up the steps.
“I like us enough for both of us.” I see him adjust his shorts and it makes me laugh.
I push open the screen door and stumble to a stop when I find Patty sitting on the couch. She smiles at me and drags a hand across her short, choppy hair. “Have fun?” she asks.
“Some of it.”
She grins. “Did he kiss you?”
I touch my fingertips to my lips and nod my head. He kissed me. God, did he kiss me.
She sets her coffee cup on the side table. “Do you want to walk to the lighthouse with me? You could tell me all about Nick and your date,” she says. “I could use some sea air.” She waits a beat. “Do you remember how we used to go there and sit at the base of it, and watch the stars? You would lay your head in my lap and we’d talk.”
She would stroke my hair and we would talk and talk and talk. Suddenly, emotion closes my throat and I can’t do more than nod. “I remember,” I choke out.
“So, do you want to go?” She moves to stand up.
“No.” I clear my throat. “No, thank you.”
“Oh.” She visibly deflates.
Have I been stupid? Have I been holding this stupid grudge when I should be doing more? “I’m going to go to bed.”
“Okay,” she says softly.
I go to my door and step inside, but at the last moment I turn back. “Patty,” I say. She turns to look at me, a wry smile on her face. “Do you think I could take a rain check? Maybe we could go to the lighthouse tomorrow?”
She nods, and I see a wet tear slide down her cheek. “Yeah, sure,” she says quietly. “Whatever you want.”
I step into my room, close my door, and lean heavily against it. I need to think about this. I need to think about what Nick said to me. Does it matter? Is it too late?
###
I wake to a thump outside my door. What was that? I toss the covers off and walk to the door. I open it and look out, and find my mother standing in front of the hallway closet. She has a towel shoved under her nose, and another lies at her feet. Is that blood?
“Mom?”
She turns to face me, still holding the towel under her nose. Her eyes are wide and fearful. She shakes her head and mutters something, but I can’t hear her.
I walk toward her. “Mom?” I say again. I reach for the towel and pull it down. It’s soaked in blood. She reaches out and puts her hand against the wall, her eyes closing. “Mom!” I scream as she crumples into a heap on the floor.
She gurgles like she’s choking, so I roll her onto her side. She goes limp.
“Mom!”
I jump to my feet and rush to the phone to call 9-1-1. I confirm the address. No, she’s not responsive. Yes, she has been going through chemo. She makes a gurgling noise again. I throw the phone down, run back to her, and roll her over. I’m terrified she’s going to drown in her own blood.
I run to the door and see a man getting something out of a car next door. “Help me!” I cry. Then I rush back to Mom.
The man opens the door. He’s blond and covered in tattoos, but I don’t care. He could be a serial killer and I would welcome having someone to help me. I pull Mom up so that she’s reclining against me, braced by my arms. She’s only barely conscious.
“Help me!” I sob.
He runs forward, and a woman comes in the door behind him. “Did you call 9-1-1?” he asks.
“They’re on the phone,” I say. The woman picks the phone up and starts to talk to them.
“They’re on the way,” she calls out. She stays on the phone with them while the man comes to kneel by me.
“My name is Matt,” he says. His voice is calm, even though his muscles are bunched tightly. His eyes are so serious as he takes in the situation. “What kind of treatment is she having?” he asks.
“I…I don’t know,” I say. I suddenly hate that I don’t know.
He takes a corner of the towel and wipes Mom’s face very gently. Why didn’t I think of that? “What’s your name?” he asks me.
“Carrie,” I choke out. I start to rock. Mom moans in my arms so I stop. I squeeze her tighter, because I don’t know what else to do.
“Carrie,” he says softly, “would it be okay with you if I take your mom from you so that you can go and get dressed?” I look down and see that I’m wearing a T-shirt and some tiny sleep shorts. “You’re going to want to ride in the ambulance. I want you to be ready.” He motions like he’s asking for permission to take her from me.
I slide out from beneath Mom and he very gently takes my place. He feels for her pulse at the same time and says something to the woman with him. I run into my room and jump into a pair of jean shorts and put on a bra. I don’t even take off my sleep shorts. I don’t have time. I rush back out to my mom.
The paramedics are in the house now, and there’s a flurry of activity as they bring a stretcher inside.
“Are you alone here, Carrie?” Matt asks.
I nod.
“Do you need to call someone to tell them about this?” he asks.
“My dad,” I say. I step back as a paramedic rushes past me. “Is she okay?” I ask hesitantly. No one answers.