Before I Wake by Kathryn Smith

Author:Kathryn Smith [Smith, Kathryn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780061982965
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2011-11-28T16:57:56+00:00

“Stupid is as stupid does.”

From now on this sage phrase from Forrest’s mama was going to be my personal motto. Stupid was as stupid did, and I felt really stupid about the fight I’d had with Noah. I just needed to know that he liked me, and that maybe he planned to stick around once our Night Terror problem was solved.

Because I wasn’t investing my heart or my energy for less.

“Kleenex?” Lola asked from where she lounged beside me on the couch. On the TV screen, Forrest was still at Jenny’s bedside, but we both knew what was coming next. I pulled two tissues from the box.

Even though I had watched this movie more times than I could count, I still teared up when Tom Hanks says, “You died on a Saturday.” In fact, the entire Jenny’s grave speech never fails to make me cry like a baby. Lola is the same way, hence the box of tissues on the cushion between us.

It’s these moments that make me miss my family. I refuse to watch Little House on the Prairie reruns for the same reason. Sentimentality gets me every time, and I end up longing for home, my dad’s fried bread, and, yes, even my mother.

So it was perfect timing when my sister Joy called at exactly the right moment to catch me vulnerable. Instead of letting the call go to voice mail, I picked up, suddenly needing to hear my sister’s voice, regardless of the topic.

“Is this a bad time?” my sister asked after I said hello. Joy was the closest to me in age, being six years older. I thought of her—and the others—as my full siblings regardless of who my biological father was.

I sniffed and wiped my nose with a Kleenex. “No. Lola and I just finished watching Forrest Gump.”

A soft chuckle rang in my ear. “So that’s why you sound like you’ve been bawling.”

Another sniff, but I was smiling. “Yeah. What’s up?” It wasn’t that I thought she had to have a reason for calling, but Joy normally didn’t call just to say hi.

“Ivy was going to call you, but I thought it might be better if I did.”

My soft and sappy feeling evaporated, replaced by a frisson of fear. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” I knew there was a “but” coming. “We’ve arranged for a specialist to see Mom.”

I frowned. “What kind of specialist?” That I knew of there were none.

“Ivy found a neurologist from Boston who has agreed to take a look at mom’s case.”

Of course it would be Ivy. I shouldn’t be this annoyed. Ivy was only worried about Mom. She didn’t know what I knew—that she would be wasting her money—Dad’s money—on trying to bring back a woman who didn’t want to be with us.

“We’ve had three different neurologists look at Mom already,” I reminded her. “It hasn’t done any good. No one can figure out what is wrong with her.” No one except for me, and no one would believe me.

“This one has a theory.

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