16 Things I Thought Were True by Janet Gurtler Page A

borrowing Theresa’s car and had to get back to the park.” Only his calm reassurances on the way over kept me from freaking out. “What’s wrong?” I ask Josh. “Why’re you out here?”
    A nurse hurries past us with a stack of towels. “Mom wanted to be alone for a minute. Jake’s in the chapel.” He stands up straighter, stretches his arms into the air. “Mom asked for you to go see her as soon as you got here.” He glances at the clock in the middle of the stark white wall across from him.
    Mom wanted to be alone? Jake’s in the chapel? This has “not normal” stamped on it on so many levels. I’m itching to run inside to her, but Josh looks absolutely miserable, so I put my hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”
    â€œI suck at this. I freaking hate hospitals,” he says. He brushes my hand off. “Go,” he says.
    â€œIt’s okay, Josh,” I say, shuffling my feet, wishing I knew what to say to help him. “Lots of people aren’t good at hospitals.”
    â€œGo,” he says again, so I turn and go inside Mom’s room.
    One of the old men is gone, but the man with gas is still there. He’s sleeping. Mom’s privacy curtain isn’t pulled around the bed. The bed is raised so that she’s almost sitting up. She’s staring into space and looks pale and fragile under the baby-blue hospital bedding. It would wash out anyone, but without her makeup on, she looks especially vulnerable. When I approach her bed, she glances at me, the corners of her mouth turn up, and her eyes brighten. She hasn’t looked at me like that in a while.
    â€œYou made it,” she says.
    â€œOf course. You’re my favorite mom.” I step beside the bed and take her hand. It’s seems lighter and bonier.
    â€œI’m your only mom,” she says and then sighs.
    I stare down at her and, for a fleeting moment, get the sensation that our roles have been temporarily switched. I don’t like it. I don’t even like watching body-switching movies. They freak me out. This does too.
    â€œAre you still mad at me?” she asks and turns toward the window. The blind is pulled down. The redbrick wall is hidden from sight.
    â€œNo. You’re still number one.”
    She glances toward the door. “They’re coming to get me soon. I don’t have a lot of time.”
    â€œMom.” I squeeze her hand. “You’re going to be fine. Okay? You’ll have plenty of time after the surgery to do whatever you want. Except smoke.” The old man snores loudly, which I prefer to farting. “The angiogram will find it if something’s wrong, and they’ll get you all fixed up.”
    â€œI have a bad feeling. A dream.”
    â€œMom…” I start to say.
    She takes her hand from mine and waves her fingers at me in the air. “Let me talk. It’s not about the dream.”
    I press my lips shut.
    â€œI’m sorry.” She blinks fast. Her eyes are bright and serious, and I see fear in them. She turns back to the blinds.
    â€œThe boys need you. They’re going to rely on you to pull the family together. That’s what women do. But first, you need to accept yourself for who you are.” She sounds as if a death warrant in her name has already been written.
    â€œMom. You’re not going to die. You’re coming home in a few days. You’re just going to have to make some changes to your lifestyle, that’s all.”
    She doesn’t answer me. She just sighs dramatically with her head turned toward the window.
    â€œYou need to know who you are first. I know that now. I wanted to protect you, Morgan.” She sniffles. “That’s why I never told you about your dad.”
    I look around and outside the door, see Josh still lingering around in the hallway. He’s not looking inside. Tears plop down my cheeks. They roll one after another,