Soon the Light Will Be Perfect by Dave Patterson

Author:Dave Patterson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hanover Square Press
Published: 2019-01-30T19:10:54+00:00

* * *

During the twenty-minute drive to the hospital my mother rolls down her window and shakes her head to stay awake. Though it’s the middle of the afternoon, her medication to cope with the nausea from chemo exhausts her. By the time she parks in the emergency room parking lot, she can barely keep her eyes open.

At the check-in desk, the receptionist hands my mother a form to fill out. She sits next to my brother and struggles to write down his name. She presses her fingertips hard against her forehead.

“Here,” I say, taking the clipboard from her. My brother winces as he holds his swollen hand. “Tell me what to write.” It’s never been my role to take care of anyone, but I can feel the ground shifting out from under all of us. “Social security number?” I ask.

My mother closes her eyes and leans back in her chair. She slowly recites the numbers one at a time, and I scrawl them inside the boxes on the form.

“Date of birth?” I ask, though I know my brother’s birthdate. I’m taking pleasure in playing the part.

My mother peeks through an eyelid and says, “Don’t get cute.”

“Emergency contact?”

She tells me to put her name and our phone number. I can tell by the sound of her voice that I shouldn’t play this game, but I can’t help myself.

“Gender?” I ask in a bored voice. “Girl. Absolutely a girl.”

“Fuck off,” my brother says. He’s in too much pain to whisper and my mother’s too tired to yell at us. A middle-aged man in plaid golf pants slides a few seats away from us. He holds an icepack to his wrist.

My mother opens her eyes and glares at my brother and me. “Do it right,” she say to me, “or I’ll have to do it myself.” She closes her eyes and leans her head back against the wall. She looks old, but she’s only thirty-six. More patches of her scalp are showing now as her hair continues to thin from the chemo. Under the fluorescent waiting room lights, the purple half-moons beneath her eyes glow. By this time during all the summers of my life, her skin is tanned a deep brown from being outside in her garden or reading on the back porch. But this summer, her skin is bleached a pale gray by her sickness.

“Finish the form,” my brother mouths through the pain.

I look down at clipboard, and, unable to stop myself, I say, “Marital status?”

He glares at me.

“Single. Very single,” I joke. “A virgin, in fact.”

My brother stands and raises his broken fist as if to punch me. Our mother opens her eyes and snaps, “Stop it.” She stands and grabs my brother by his forearm and sits him down. He’s taller than her, but she still possesses a power beyond us. She takes the clipboard from my lap and frowns. “I thought you’d be able to handle this.”

Before I can apologize, she takes the paperwork to the receptionist’s desk and has the blond-haired woman with the dark brown roots help her finish the intake form.

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