LIVING & GRIEVING

19. things she doesn't mean

(before mum died - flashback)

Coming home from school was hard. It was hard to be home. It was even harder to go out and carry the guilt of leaving mum alone. Dad worked alternative shifts each week, this week he was on lates meaning he was gone for almost the whole day. And Connor was almost always in his room, so the Hale family were often taking turns to visit. Today it was Quinn.

When I arrived home, mum was sleeping, and I didn't notice him at first. Then it dawned on me that our dog wasn't here either, so I checked outside to see Quinn throwing a ball for a very uninterested Charlie. If I had it in me, I would laugh. Noticing me watching, he set the ball down again and started to make his way back inside.

We never spoke much when he came round. Sometimes we never even said a word. There was a sort of unspoken agreement between us not to acknowledge what was going on. Neither of us would know what to say. It was better this way.

Most of the time, he would leave shortly after I got home. Or he'd already be away. But it was a nice day outside and he was probably enjoying time with Charlie. Angela and Martin worked quite a lot.

"It hasn't been a good day," he awkwardly sighed, "just thought I'd let you know."

"Okay, thanks."

"She's been on and off asleep, wouldn't eat anything."

Everyone liked to update me on how mum was doing. I wished I could tell them not to. It was always fairly obvious. I didn't need to hear it. I could always tell what kind of day it was as soon as I walked in the door. Mum must have heard us talking as she slowly turned her head towards us.

"What's going on?" she was startled.

She often woke angry and confused. On a rarer occasion she would be more upset for us. She would cry at how much she loved us and would miss us. And they were the times I would remember my mother was still in there. The cancer hadn't completely stole her from us. She'd tell us she was going to do everything she can to fight for her kids. Even though we knew it was over.

"You just woke up mum. It's been a hard day."

"Why are you doing this to me?" she cried.

"I'm not doing anything. You've had a lot of medication."

"Why can't you ever leave me alone. You're making me sick."

Quinn shifted awkwardly in his seat, before standing up to leave. I hated that he had to see us like this. Mum already hated people seeing her weak. She would hate people seeing her as someone else.

"It's not me mum, it's the cancer," I took a deep breath and tried to remember she didn't know what she was saying.

"It is you! You're doing this to me!"

"I'm not mum."

"Stop calling me that! I don't know you!"

"Yes, you do. I'm your daughter."

"Don't say that. You're not my family."

Four words that can't be taken back once they're said. The same words that robbed me of all the hope I had left. The ones that stopped Quinn in is tracks. People talk about moments when everything stops. Time doesn't move. The world keeps ticking but your frozen in place. This was mine. As mum drifted back to unconsciousness, my world fell a little more apart.

"Ivy, you know she doesn't mean that, it's-"

"Quinn-"

"It's the medication."

"Please leave."