Maybe Matt's Miracle by Tammy Falkner

Author:Tammy Falkner [Falkner, Tammy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction, Coming of Age, Romance, Contemporary, New Adult & College, Teen & Young Adult
Amazon: B00K21F5IO
Publisher: Night Shift Publishing
Published: 2014-04-29T04:00:00+00:00

Skylar

I park my car in the parking lot of the rehab center and drop my forehead to the steering wheel. I don’t know why I’m here. Except for the fact that Dad asked me to come. I could have said no. I should have said no.

But I didn’t.

I approach the desk and ask for my mom’s room, but they lead me to the garden. The nurse leaves me outside the double doors and shuts them behind me. Ahead lies a large brick patio with deck chairs. It is littered with big, poufy furniture that looks really comfortable. I look around. I don’t see Mom. But then a woman gets up from a lounger, and I look closely. It’s my mother. Her face is stripped bare of makeup, and her hair is down around her shoulders. It’s held back from her face with a clip, and I can’t remember ever seeing her look so natural. Only it’s not natural for her all. It’s completely unnatural.

“Mom?” I say. She motions toward the nearby rocking chair.

She sits down and pulls her legs up, hooking her arms around her knees as if she wants to draw up inside herself. She doesn’t lean forward to give me those air kisses that don’t mean anything. I don’t know how I’m supposed to act without them. I sit down and grip my knees tightly.

She lays her head back against the seat and tilts toward me. “I’m glad you came,” she says quietly. “Surprised, but glad.” She smiles.

I’m immediately jarred because there’s no malice or artifice. And instead of looking at my clothes, my makeup, or my hair, she’s looking at my face. I purposefully didn’t dress up today because I wanted to give her plenty to pick on, with the hopes she would leave my kids alone.

“Why are you surprised?” I ask.

She shrugs. “If I were you, I wouldn’t have come.” She looks into my eyes, and my heart leaps into my chest, and then it gathers in my throat. I have to swallow hard to move past it.

My mother’s feet are bare, and I see fuzzy slippers lying beneath her on the pavers. They have Oscar the Grouch on them, and my mind is blown. “Nice slippers,” I say.

Mom smiles. “Your dad brought me those.” She snorts. I have never heard any such noise come from my perfect mother’s nose. “They’re kind of fitting for the situation.”

“Are you okay?” I ask.

She puts her feet down, sliding them into those crazy slippers she normally wouldn’t be caught dead wearing, and runs her hands up and down her arms. “I’m better today. The first week was kind of hard. A lot of puking my guts out and even more time spent wishing I could.”

My mom just said the word puke.

She narrows her eyes at me. “What’s on your mind, Sky?”

I shake my head. “Nothing.” If I could verbalize it, I still wouldn’t. She’s been fragile my whole life, and just because she doesn’t seem fragile right this second doesn’t mean she’s not.

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