For you

It was just before my sixteenth year when I had fallen ill again. Mum had pulled me out of school (again) and had a row with Dad how it was HIS fault and not hers and how if she had gotten the divorce she had wanted all those years ago I wouldn’t be how I am today.

As I remember it though, when I was younger, she smoked just as much as my Dad did.

It calmed down a bit after a few hours, I sat up in my room listening to them argue as I focused on trying to catch my breath. I felt as if I was as light as air and could just float out the window if this stupid machine wasn’t holding me down. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to just float away from all of this, it was simple really, if only my fingers could just brush the ‘off’ switch and my whole life would be over in just a few short breaths.

   I was just moving my hand over to do it when my Mum came in.

     “Hello dear,” her tone was sweet, which usually always meant she was trying to act like nothing at happened. Like she hadn’t just yelled at Dad how grandmamma was right and she never should have gotten married. It was a talent of Mum’s, hiding things.

     “Hi Mum,” my voice sounded hoarse, like I had swallowed sandpaper instead of silky-smooth air.

She gave me a small smile with her yellowed teeth. “Do you need anything?” the bed sagged beneath the weight of both of us as she sat down beside me and stroked my hair.

     I shook my head, “I would like this off though,” I gave her a hopeful smile.

Mum laughed a little and shook her head, “I’m sorry, dear, but you know what the doctor says. Every time you have an attack, keep you on oxygen for at least an hour to make sure all your passageways are clear.”

I rolled my eyes at her, for someone who was oblivious to other people and things sure knew a lot about what was best for me. Not that I minded it all that much, I mean, she was my Mum and let’s face it, I did need help with all of this. No one else was going to drive me to the hospital in the middle of the night when I was having breathing problems.

     “Are you okay?” Mum asked, breaking me from my thoughts.

I looked up at her, “Yes Mum, I’m alright.”

She gave me another yellow-toothed smile, “Good.” She pressed her lips to my forehead and got up again. “I thought after your support group we would go to that bakery you like so much.”

     I perked up and scooted up in the bed a little, “W. Mandeville?” I asked.

     Mum nodded, “I’ll come back in a few minutes to help you get ready, meanwhile why don’t you get some rest?”

   I frowned a little, “I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything.”

      “At least try,” she leaned down and kissed my forehead again before leaving the room.

I let out a small sigh and positioned myself so that I was lying down again. Closing my eyes, I focused on my breathing before falling asleep.

*****

After spending two unnecessary long hours in a church talking about cancer problems, we were free to go and I was already waiting outside for Mum to show up.

She never stayed with me during the meetings, (not that she needed to) instead she went down to the shops. Which I didn’t mind, it wasn’t cool to have your Mum hovering over you every second. That’s what Jamie’s Mum did in class; he never gets invited to any of the group outings because of that.