Remember; You Have the Universe

[ 44 ]

"Mom?"
I call softly
through the wood.
I really hope
this isn't
in vain,
because I hurt
from crawling up
the stairs
I had to
use all
fours
to get here,
but it's
worth it
for my mom.
It would just
be more worth it if
she lets me
in.
"Can I
come in?"

No
answer.

"Please?"
I feel
sick.

I open
the door,
feeling small
again,
remembering how
just over
a year ago,
I would come in
a while after
we fought
and climb into
her bed
and cry until
she rolled
her eyes
and laughed at me
and pulled me
close
and we'd
make up.

I don't cry
this time.
I walk in
and we make
eye contact
across the room,
which suddenly feels
huge.
In our old
house,
our rooms were
next door,
lining the
kitchen/
living room,
the mud room
sticking out
in the front
and leading out
to the porch.
Mom and I
were always
in each other's
space,
and avoiding
each other
was hard.
Here,
in the house
she and Jeff
have bought
to share,
I lose her.

Mom holds out
her arms,
and I go to her,
snuggling into
her.
And even though
I am sick
and she is
the kind of person
who refuses
to touch
her students
from November to
March
because she hates
getting sick,
she pulls me
into her
as though we haven't
seen each other
in months.
Her arms
are cold
against my
fevered body,
the orange and
vanilla scent
of her
sifting through
my memories
for me.

"Why,"
I ask,
"Is that fight
your fault?"
She's not
the sick one.
She's not
the one who
had a meltdown.
She's not
the one who called
her sister
a baby.
"If anyone,
the fault
is mine
for being sick."

"It's not
your fault
your lungs
can't get their
lives together."
Mom pushes me away
and holds
my face
so I have
to look at her.
"Never think
this is because
you did something
wrong.
It just
happened to you."

"You're right,"
I snicker.
"It's Dad's fault
for all that
smoking."

Mom rolls
her eyes
and tugs me
back to her.
"Let's not
blame it
on Dad
either.
He is fighting
his own
battles
and it's not like
he was
in line for
addiction."

"I know,"
I say.
And I
also know
it would kill
Dad
if he thought
I blamed him.
He can generate
enough blame
on his own.

"So why was
that your fault?"
I tuck
my head
into the
space between
her chin and her
shoulder.

"Because I married
Jeff.
I brought
those kids
into a situation
where-"
She trails off.

"Just say it."

"It's just
a hard
situation.
But I couldn't
make them
fried chicken
and make you
eat it roasted.
That's just not
fair."

Nothing about
my life
really is.

"And you don't
have time
to make
two meals,"
I add.

"Right."
She nods against
my scalp.
"I thought
by now
we'd be
okay.
That they'd adjust.
But maybe asking them
to adjust
to a new
family
and your
health problems
was too much.
I just...
Jeff makes me
so happy.
It was so hard
being alone.
Not that
you aren't great,
but you
don't exactly
do much
to support
yourself,
so when you
has stuff
going on,
it was
just me
trying to help.
Jeff has been
so nice
to have around.
And sometimes
it's nice
to forget."

We both go quiet
and she
strokes my hair.

"I'm sorry.
That was terrible
of me to say,"
She says.

"No, it's not.
All your
emotions are
valid, remember?"
I don't mean
to mock Jeff,
but it felt
cheesy when he
said it.

Mom does that
laugh that's
less like
a laugh
and more of an
audible smile.
"Yeah,
I guess."

"And they're
young teenagers,
Mom.
They're going
to feel like
there's an injustice
even if
they get
limo rides and
free ice cream
every day.

"You're allowed
to find
happiness,
too.
Someday,
when they all
get over their
angst,
they'll find
their own."

Mom leans
her chin
so it's resting on
my head.
"And so will
you."