Crescendo

One

Do I want to live? . . . [W]ould you like to live with your soul in the grave?

-Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

Since I was a child, I longed to dance. To stand before a vast audience, to listen to the violins and cellos sing me in as I made my way across the stage in a series of Pas de chat and Glissade. In tone with the music, rising when it does. Falling when it does.

It was my one single dream, I was even lucky enough to enter into Dance School. I took one year, and was even a promising student. But that one year came to crashing end, mom got sick and I had to come home and help dad take care of her.

CRASH!

My heart nearly jumped out of chest when I heard it. Behind me, I listened to everything on moms bedside table fall to the floor. My heart nearly jumped from my chest from the sudden noise and as my body went on autopilot as I rushed down the hall to the little bedroom that my mother stayed in. There on the edge of her bed, my mom sat. Her normally crystal clear skin was ashy, dark bags hung under eyes and her once full cheeks seemed sunken. Her floral night gown hung loosely on her bony frame, just a couple months ago she filled out her night gown. She was leaning forward, her toes touching the dark brown carpet, medication bottles, her old metal lamp and her drinking cup littered the floor in front of her.

"I'm sorry, Liv." My moms bottom lip quivered as I bent down to pick up the floor.

"Are you alright?" I looked up at her, her dark brown eyes started to form tears.

"I was trying to get up." Her voice was soft and raspy, the doctor said that was due to her illness. "I'm feeling much better, honest."

"Mom," I sighed and quickly gathered all her meds and placed them back in their spot before sitting on the bed next to her. "You know the doctor said you needed to rest." She reached over and grabbed my hand, giving it a weak squeeze in her cold hands. She rested her head on my shoulder. This women was a mere shadow of who she used to be, before her sudden illness. Mom was always laughing, her voice loud and clear. She was the strongest person that I knew, you never thought that one day she would be a shell. All her strength just a faded memory, she couldn't even stand on her own.

"I know, Liv." I could feel her hot tears burning their way to my skin, she was crying again. "I just feel so helpless."

"It's okay mom, really." I gave her hand a light squeeze, she lifted her head and looked at me. I forced a smile, taking care of my mother had became a full time job. All my friends have left for college, and I was here. Dad helps as much as he can, but with all the doctor visits and medications, he had to get a second job on top of his full time job. "Honestly, I don't mind." She wiped her tears on the back of her hands. "Besides, your my mom. It's not like you'll be sick forever, once your better we can do something like we use to."

"Your a good girl." She gave me a weak smile, I glanced down not able to look more into her incredibly sad eyes. I stood up, helping my mother to get her feet back into the bed before covering her back up with her heavy quilts.

"I'm going to get lunch started." I leaned over and kissed my mother on the cheek. "So if you need something ring your bell." I pointed to the cowbell that was casually tossed on the pillow beside her. She glanced over at it before reaching up for it.

"Okay, Liv." Her fingers grazed the front of the bell, tracing the words Moms Bell, that I had written in puffy paint when dad and I bought it when she was still in the hospital. She closed her eyes, I grabbed the drinking glass and left the room pulling the door with me. I returned back the kitchen, place the cup into the dishwasher before making mom a fried bologna sandwich and bringing it two her.

I sat on the edge of her bed, half watching her eat and half watching The Donna Reed Show on the little black and white tv. The only tv that we had, dad had brought into her room. A dresser that once belonged to my older sister Emily, but Emily had long left the old thing behind. Mom ate a few bites, since she had gotten sick she doesn't eat much. I left once more, giving her a kiss and taking the plate with me. She wouldn't say it out loud, but I knew she was tired. And she needed her rest.

I love my mother, but if I was to be honest I needed a break. A single minute where I didn't have to worry about her getting hurt, or worse. It was hard on me, taking care of my parent. She was only 45, and laying in the bed reminded me more of a dying 80 year old. I shuddered, the thought of my mother dying frightened me. The doctors said if she didn't get the treatment, then she very well could. I shuddered again, I don't even want to humor the idea. A world without my mother? What a grim place that would be.

When I entered the living room, I glanced up at the clock that hung above the dining room entry way, 12:46pm. Dad will be home in three hours. Dad work two jobs, just so we could save up for moms treatment. And with all the bills, it still wasn't enough. I, of course, offered to help and get a job myself. But due to the cost of a nurse would take any chance of mom getting better. Before she got sick, my mother was an amazing teacher . She taught World History at the high school two towns over, in fact both my parents attended the same university and that's how they met. My dad, on the other hand, he dropped out his junior year. College life wasn't for him, and on top of it Grammy and Granpy could no longer afford it. The sweetest thing was Mom and Dad stayed together. Dad worked side jobs and stayed home with me and my sister. Which a lot of kids don't get that, so it was nice to always have dad around. At least for me it was, my sister Emily. Not so much.

Emily and dad constantly fought, and though mom would try to intervene it would sometimes get worse. They just never got along, so when Emily dropped out her senior year Mom was devastated and it started another fight. I was only twelve at the time, so when Emily left at eighteen I didn't quite understand. And in a way I still don't, I tried to get dad to call Emily. Especially since there's a chance that mom could die, and she might even come back to help mom. But stubborn as he was, dad wouldn't so much as send a text.

Ding!

Moms bell started going off, I took a deep breath and hurried down the hall. When I entered her room I found her once again on the edge of her bed. Speaking of stubborn, she can't seem to understand Why she shouldn't get up by herself. Maybe that's why her and dad got along so well.