The Rise and Falls of Melody Wilson

Part 23

I drove past my house on the way to Mariah's. Riley wasn't home, but my mom was.

All the lights were off. Just the way she had come to like it.Charlotte Wilson wasn't always the hide-in-the-dark, alcoholic recluse that she was now. She used to be the life of the party. Figureatively speaking. She could always light up a room with her bright eyes, a smile and her endless flow of jokes and anticdotes. She was always the entertainer, her friends always stopping by to chat. Now I wasn't sure if she even had friends, even the ones she used to be closest with.I guess it was one of those 'I should have seen it coming' things.

When my father had his first collapse my mom was a worried mess. My father was already in the hospital constantly for tests and medication for his sometimes crippling headaches. My mom was always worried and antsy when he had to take medication, even at that stage I could see her slowly unraveling.I remember the night I saw her crumble completely. After many months of medication and tests, my father collapsed in our living room.The whole ride to thehospital my mother kept mumbling about how she should have known something was wrong with the way

he kept complaining about his head hurting.

We sat in the waiting room for almost five hourse before the doctor came out to talk to my mom. From my position a few feet away I could see his solem face as he announced the results of their search. My father had Glioblastoma MultiformeBrain cancer. My mother had gasped and put a hand over her mouth, tears already streaming down her face. The doctor tried to explain why it had taken so long for them to find it, and the process of how to go about getting it treated,

but my mom had lost it. She was gasping for breaths as she sobbed. The doctor spotted me and gave me a sympathetic look. I took it as my cue to step in. I got up, wrapping an arm around my mom to guide her to a chair nearby telling the doctor to just give us a moment.

The moment lasted until the next morning. The whole time we sat there, my mom crying, I never let a tear go. It hadn't hit me yet. I had somehow got my mom home during the night and in the morning drove her back up to the hospital the moment we were "ready". My mom didn't dress up. She through some sweats and a t-shirt on, her has slightly stringy from not washing it. She finally pulled herself together long enough to talk to the doctor on what had happened and what the next step was. She agreed to Chemo. And when that didn't work very well, she agreed to surgery.

My father was fairly calm throughout the ordeal. In the beginning he was more shocked than anything else. He, too, agreed to the measures to get rid of it. Somehow he made an effort to be happy throughout it all. When I, and occasionally my brother, would stop by after school, he'd always ask about our day and ask if we'd seen the latest reality show playing. He'd tell us there

was nothing else on, but we knew he secretly liked the shows.

In the months after my father's first surgery he seemed to be improving. The doctors said he was well enough to go home, he'd only need to come in occasionally for medication and check ups. My mother also seemed to improve.Until my father's second collapse.

I sighed as I pulled up in front of Mariah's. Thankfully she made it back before me. And by the fact that her lights were on, she was waiting for me.