A Life in Bloom by Anna E. Collins

Author:Anna E. Collins
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: women's fiction, contemporary, family, mother-daughter relationships, lgbtqia+, self-discovery
Publisher: Red Adept Publishing
Published: 2023-07-04T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 21

In our hotel room that night, Mom leans against her pillows, watching me as I get ready for the night. I walk back and forth between the bathroom and my bags, pulling out toothpaste, pajamas, and hairbrush—returning them when I’m done. I pretend I don’t notice her scrutiny.

“It’s been almost four decades,” she says out of the blue. “And I’m not ready to say goodbye.” Her voice breaks on the last syllable, and I freeze in the middle of folding up my jeans. Bart. She’s talking about Bart.

She buries her face in her hands, and her shoulders start to shake. My gaze flickers around the room, uncertain where to settle, but when her crying doesn’t stop, I go to her.

“Shh,” I say, placing an awkward hand on her arm. “Shh.”

She sniffles but looks up. “I guess he’ll be the one waiting for me,” she says morosely. “That’s not how I pictured it at all.”

I hand her a tissue and wait for her to calm down. I don’t tell her he may well be waiting for his wife of more than thirty years instead, but the thought comes to mind.

“At least I’ll get to see him. I really didn’t want to take this with me to the grave.” She blows her nose long and hard.

I once read an interview with Astrid Lindgren, the Swedish author of Pippi Longstocking fame, who said that, as she and her friends got older, they used to start every conversation with “Death, death, death,” just to strip it of its power. With Mom breathing numbered breaths in front of me, and me unable to get out a single word of comfort as she brings up her impending demise, I can’t help but think that’s not a bad idea.

“What time do you want to get up tomorrow?” I ask instead, not meeting her gaze.

Mom pats my hand on top of the sheet, gives it a brief squeeze that forces me to face her.

“Eight o’clock is fine.” She squeezes my hand again then lets go and turns to fluff her pillows. “I hear the breakfast buffet is supposed to be good.”

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