She leans in and grabs her bag from the passenger seat of her car. “I’m so sorry. You don’t have to stay. I’ll call Ivy. Or maybe Sasha can pick me up.”
“What if they can’t come right away?”
She places a hand over her eyes shielding them from the midday sun. “It’s a beautiful day. I’ll just hang out until they can get here.”
I don’t even have to think about it. Every instinct I have revolts at the idea of leaving her somewhere alone without a guaranteed way to get home. Normally I wouldn’t take a girl home to meet my mom this soon. Or ever. But in this case, it really doesn’t matter. We tried and it didn’t work out. I’m not the only one feeling the awkward vibes so there’s no way she wants to see me again either.
“Yeah, no. You’re coming with me buttercup.”
She wrinkles her nose at the nickname but follows me as I walk over to my bike.
“I really wish I hadn’t worn a skirt now.”
My lips curl up as I look at her slender legs peeking from beneath the billowy layers of her skirt. “I don’t mind.”
Her annoyed response is drowned out by the roar of the engine as I start the bike. She climbs on behind me and wraps her arms around my waist. “Where are we going anyway?”
I flip the visor down on my helmet before I answer. “I’m taking you home with me.”
We walk up to the doorway of my mom’s house and I hit the bell. Despite it being after lunchtime the curtains in the front are still drawn. After several minutes, I glance back at Emma. She’s looking around curiously but doesn’t seem impatient.
“It takes a little longer for her to get to the door these days. The chemo hits her pretty hard.”
I’m not sure why I’m explaining anything to Emma. I chuckle a little under my breath. Men really do think with their dicks. Despite her snide comments on the beach, there’s a part of me that’s still hanging on to the idea of her. That date proved without a shadow of a doubt that my fascination with her is completely chemical. So I shouldn’t care at all what she thinks about anything and I definitely shouldn’t be sharing intimate details with her.
The door finally opens. Mom is wearing her oversized nightshirt and a pair of sweatpants. They hang off her. I make a mental note to buy her smaller sizes until she gains back some of the weight she’s lost.
“Tank. I told you not to come. But since you’re here, you can fix the television for me. Who is this?” Her eyes stop on Emma and she glances at me.
“Mom this is my friend, Emma. Emma, this is my mom, Claire Marshall.”
“Sorry, I know I must look a mess.” Mom pats the bandanna tied over her thinning hair self-consciously.
I should have anticipated this. But I’m a guy and we don’t think about this kind of stuff. We don’t worry about how our hair looks or what we’re wearing. But I would never do anything to embarrass my mom.
I should have just dropped Emma off, gas mileage be damned.
“Sorry Mom for just dropping in on you with company. But I wanted to make sure that you were okay.”
I don’t say it out loud but she hadn’t sounded too good on the phone. The lines around her eyes are more pronounced and she looks tired. Really tired. It’s a scary thing to see her looking like this. It reminds me of why I’ve made the decisions I’ve made recently. It’s all for her. She deserves everything Finn and I can give her.
“Come on in.”
We walk past her and into the house. It’s dark with the curtains drawn.
“Let me just change my clothes. And try to do something with this hair. It’s so hard to wash my hair in the shower now. I get dizzy sometimes.”
“I used to wash my sister’s hair in the sink when we were younger,” Emma comments.
“In the sink? That’s a good idea.” Mom pats the bandanna on her hair again.
“Do you want me to help?” Emma takes off her jacket and then rolls up her sleeves. “I was usually helping her strip out a bad dye job so a simple wash should be easy.”
Mom looks shocked but then smiles at her. “Would you? I’d love it.”
They walk toward the kitchen and I follow behind. “Do you guys need any help?”
Emma scrunches her nose up at me. “No boys allowed.”
“I’ll just go grab my shampoo and a towel.” Mom leaves the kitchen, seeming more cheerful than I’ve seen her in weeks.
Emma curls a hand around my forearm. “Don’t worry. She’ll be sitting the whole time with her head over the sink. This way she doesn’t have to worry about slipping in the shower. It’ll be fine.”
My mom keeps canned sodas in the back of the fridge for me so I pull out a cola and take it back to the living room. I flip on the television but keep the volume low in case they need me. The soft murmur of their voices and the occasional burst of laughter filter in from the kitchen but otherwise it’s silent. It’s a good silence. A peaceful silence. We haven’t had much of that lately.
No matter what happened before on our date, Emma has given me the most unexpected gift. She’s taken my mom’s mind off the chemo and brought it back to the land of the living. She’s smiling and laughing again just like she used to. There’s nothing in the world that could mean more to me.
As Emma is cleaning up, my mom comes and sits on the couch next to me, rubbing her hair absently with the fluffy blue towel around her neck.