Blood Ties (NaNoWriMo 2015)

One

I'd never much liked hearing the same story twice, and you'd think my mother would know that after eighteen years but I guess the message hadn't gotten through yet. Today was my birthday, and just like every year, after I'd blown out the candles she'd launch into the story of how I was born, how I wasn't supposed to make it and how I did.

Cutting a slice of cake she continued. "Doctors said it was bad, that there was nothing you could do. You were so little, they said you'd never survive a surgery, that your heart would give out within the night. I didn't want to believe them." Her eyes got misty then and I pretended I didn't notice her wiping at them. One of the things Mom and I shared, besides our brown eyes and slim bodies was our dislike for letting others see us cry.

"Yes," I said, stabbing my cake with my fork and taking a bite. The dark chocolate was bitterly sweet and wonderful tasting. "And they let you stay with me that night so you could say goodbye, and the next morning, poof I was better! The hole was gone, they all called it a miracle and here we are, eighteen years later."

Mom smiled at me, downing a glass of milk and tugging at her dark brown hair which was currently tied up in a ponytail. She took another bite of cake careful not to let any fall onto her pale yellow scrubs. She wouldn't have time to change before her night shift at the nursing home, not with the car trouble she was bound to have in her old Chevy "Yes," she said after she swallowed. "Eighteen years later and you're still my miracle baby." She stood up, food half eaten and kissed my forehead. "Happy birthday Ember, I love you."

"I love you too," I said and without further ado, she picked up her purse, keys and jacket and hurried out of the apartment.

The door slammed shut and then I was alone. I looked up at the little cake with the words Happy birthday Ember written on it in sticky blue icing. Most of the eighteen candles were blown out, but one was still flickering, tiny wax drops sliding down onto the cake. When Mom had told me to make a wish, I hadn't then. I'd been too worried about her. The dark circles under her eyes, the droop of her shoulders, I hadn't been able to focus on a wish. I just wanted to let her take the picture and sit down for a few minutes.

I wish that I can pay you back one day, I thought and shutting my eyes I blew out my candle and made my birthday wish. Mom worked so hard, always since the day I was born to give me everything she thought I deserved. One day I wanted to change that, I wanted her to be able to go back to school and fulfil her dream of becoming a real nurse, be able to get her a car that wasn't a rattling death trap.

I opened my eye and saw a string of smoke twisting up towards the crack ceiling of our apartment. Seeing the yellow paint and the flaws in it only fueled my desire further, I was pretty sure my mom was the nicest, most-hard working woman in the world, or close to it. And she deserved better than what she had.

"I'm going to take care of us someday Mom," I said aloud, voice carrying in the empty apartment. "I promise."

I polished off the last of my cake and picked up our dishes from the tiny table we had managed to wedge in our little kitchen. I turned on the faucet and set to work at the small pile of dishes from breakfast this morning as well as the dinner we'd just had. Ten minutes later, my hands were red and my dishes were stacked on the drying rack. Wiping my hands on my faded jeans I began walking through the living room and pulled out the bed from the couch. Our apartment only had one bedroom and Mom as per usual insisted I take it. She said she'd be fine on the pull out couch.

I didn't buy it, this thing was an old as dirt and about as comfortable, but maybe it was better than an actual couch.

After some tugging, grunting and ugly faces and employing a few words my mom would have washed my mouth out with soap for saying. Finally, I yanked the stubborn thing out, the metal frame popping and groaning as I did. Like a newborn colt I fell back, limbs wind-milling and I fell back onto my butt.