When you love me

What can you wait for?

I'm in the kitchen and my mother appears, with a tired face and red eyes. I want to say something that will comfort her, but I doubt anything I say right now will actually help her.

— I'm making macaroni and cheese. Are you hungry? — I say, as I pour the cooked pasta into the colander. — How is Lauren?

— She's being strong, but I know she's suffering. — she answers, looking at me over her shoulder. — And I'm hungry.

— Want to take a shower while I finish here?

— I think I'll do just that. A shower is all I need now.

I force a smile and she stands up, picking up her purse and the small suitcase of clothes she took to the hospital. She climbs the stairs slowly, as if she doesn't have that much strength to get to her room.

When she comes back, showered and looking better, the macaroni and cheese is ready and I serve it to her.

— How are things here? — she asks, pulling out a fork with curled pasta and bringing it to her mouth.

— Adam was here, picked up clothes for him and Sophie. He said he'll come by and see you later.

—Ryan?

— He's helping Tim, and he'll visit Lauren later.

— Lauren will stay at home. We are waiting for the results of some tests and the doctor said that she... can stay at home.

— That is good?

— It's not good, Jennie. She suffers from terrible pain and lives on medication to cope. But she insists on coming home, staying with us, and says she doesn't want to end up... in a hospital.

— They need to tell Ryan.

— I can't, Jennie. I made a promise. — She puts her fork down on her plate and looks at me. — Promise you won't tell either.

- Mother...

— Please, for Lauren.

I pause, almost dramatically. Dramatic because I can tell my mom is about to have a meltdown over the break. I shake my head, even though I'm hesitant.

— For Lauren. — I say.

— Thanks. — She murmurs, letting a tear fall, as if she can no longer hold back the crying.

— Mom, I've been thinking... about staying here, until Lauren... you know. I want to stay close to Ryan and give you all the support I can.

She looks at me, her emotions all evident.

— That would be wonderful, Jennie. Talk to your father first, if it's okay with him, you can stay here for as long as you want, dear. — She wipes her tears with her fingers and sniffles. - And thank you.

I don't know what exactly she's thanking me for, but I imagine it's because I want to be there when everything falls apart.

We finish the meal in silence, immersed in our own thoughts, and at this point, we have a lot to think about, a lot to plan and question. I want to ask her questions, the same ones I've been wanting to ask since she left during my seventh birthday party. But, it wasn't the time. And it seems like it never is.

She goes up to her room, saying she's going to lie down for a while, and I offer to wash the dishes. I tell her she doesn't have to worry about anything. And she didn't really need to, because she would occupy my mind.

I spend the afternoon in the developing room, immersed in the process of transforming negatives into tangible images. The familiar smell of chemicals fills the air, bringing back memories of when my dad and I did this together, when it was still just the two of us, trying to heal ourselves, and each other. A bittersweet nostalgia invades my thoughts, but now, there is something more, a new emotion mixing with the old ones.