uneasily on the grass, my knees already starting to ache. I knew I should have told her and that she’d want to know, but what if she tried to do something about it? What if I scared her, and it hurt her?
So I lied.
“Some kids at school were talking,” I said, unable to look ather as guilt gnawed at me. I never lied to her unless I had to. “I just wondered if you knew anything about him.”
Her shoulders slumped, and she reached forward to tuck a loose lock of long hair behind my ear. “If you insist on bringing up difficult subjects, can we at least talk about what’s going to happen when I die?”
I was on my feet in an instant, all thoughts of Henry flying out of my head. “It’s time to go inside.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll go inside when you agree to talk to me.”
“I am talking to you,” I said. “Please, Mom. You’re going to make yourself worse.”
She smiled humorlessly. “I don’t see how. Are you going to talk to me about it or not?”
I closed my eyes, ignoring the sting of tears. This wasn’t fair. We still had to have some time left, right? She’d made it this far—surely she could make it a few more months. Christmas, I thought. Just one more Christmas together, and then I could accept saying goodbye. I’d made the same deal for the past four years, and so far, it’d worked.
“I don’t want you to miss me,” she said. “You should live your own life, sweetie, and not be weighed down by me anymore, especially once I’m gone.”
My throat felt rough, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know how to live my own life. Even back in New York, she’d been my best friend—my only friend for the past four years. What did she expect me to do, pack up and move on?
“And I want you to fall in love and start your own family, one that’ll stick around a lot longer than I did.” She reached out to take my hand, squeezing it gently. “Find someone who’ll be good to you and never let him go, all right?”
I felt like I was drowning. “Mom,” I choked, “I don’t know how to do any of that.”
She smiled up at me sadly. “No one does, Kate, not at first. But you’re ready for this, I promise you. I did everything I could.” For a moment she trailed off and looked at our joined hands. “You are ready, and you will be great, sweetheart. You’re going to do the impossible, I can feel it, and even if you don’t think I’m there with you, I always will be. I’m never going to leave you—remember that, okay? Sometimes it might feel like I’m gone, but I’ll always be there when you need me the most.”
I wiped my eyes with my free hand, my grip on her tightening. Something inside of me was crumbling faster than I could glue it back together, and I didn’t know what to do anymore. I couldn’t imagine life without her in it, and I didn’t want to, either. But it was a reality I’d be facing far sooner than I was prepared for. I wanted her, my mother—not a memory.
“Promise me you’ll be yourself and do what makes you happy, no matter what,” she said, taking my hand in both of hers. “You’re meant for great things, sweetie, but the more you struggle against who you are, the harder it will be. Whatever obstacles you face, remember you can get through anything if you want to badly enough. And you will.” She smiled, and whatever was left standing inside of me broke. “You’re so much stronger than you think you are. Do you promise me you’ll try to be happy?”
I wanted to tell her that I didn’t know how to be happy without her, that I didn’t know who I was when she wasn’t there, and I wasn’t strong enough to do this, but her pleading look was too much for me to take. So I lied a second time.
“Okay,” I mumbled. “I promise.”
Her smile only made me feel guiltier. “Thank you,” she said. “It’ll be easier to go when I know you’ll be okay.”
I helped her to her feet, not trusting myself to speak. Leaving the uprooted weeds
So I lied.
“Some kids at school were talking,” I said, unable to look ather as guilt gnawed at me. I never lied to her unless I had to. “I just wondered if you knew anything about him.”
Her shoulders slumped, and she reached forward to tuck a loose lock of long hair behind my ear. “If you insist on bringing up difficult subjects, can we at least talk about what’s going to happen when I die?”
I was on my feet in an instant, all thoughts of Henry flying out of my head. “It’s time to go inside.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll go inside when you agree to talk to me.”
“I am talking to you,” I said. “Please, Mom. You’re going to make yourself worse.”
She smiled humorlessly. “I don’t see how. Are you going to talk to me about it or not?”
I closed my eyes, ignoring the sting of tears. This wasn’t fair. We still had to have some time left, right? She’d made it this far—surely she could make it a few more months. Christmas, I thought. Just one more Christmas together, and then I could accept saying goodbye. I’d made the same deal for the past four years, and so far, it’d worked.
“I don’t want you to miss me,” she said. “You should live your own life, sweetie, and not be weighed down by me anymore, especially once I’m gone.”
My throat felt rough, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know how to live my own life. Even back in New York, she’d been my best friend—my only friend for the past four years. What did she expect me to do, pack up and move on?
“And I want you to fall in love and start your own family, one that’ll stick around a lot longer than I did.” She reached out to take my hand, squeezing it gently. “Find someone who’ll be good to you and never let him go, all right?”
I felt like I was drowning. “Mom,” I choked, “I don’t know how to do any of that.”
She smiled up at me sadly. “No one does, Kate, not at first. But you’re ready for this, I promise you. I did everything I could.” For a moment she trailed off and looked at our joined hands. “You are ready, and you will be great, sweetheart. You’re going to do the impossible, I can feel it, and even if you don’t think I’m there with you, I always will be. I’m never going to leave you—remember that, okay? Sometimes it might feel like I’m gone, but I’ll always be there when you need me the most.”
I wiped my eyes with my free hand, my grip on her tightening. Something inside of me was crumbling faster than I could glue it back together, and I didn’t know what to do anymore. I couldn’t imagine life without her in it, and I didn’t want to, either. But it was a reality I’d be facing far sooner than I was prepared for. I wanted her, my mother—not a memory.
“Promise me you’ll be yourself and do what makes you happy, no matter what,” she said, taking my hand in both of hers. “You’re meant for great things, sweetie, but the more you struggle against who you are, the harder it will be. Whatever obstacles you face, remember you can get through anything if you want to badly enough. And you will.” She smiled, and whatever was left standing inside of me broke. “You’re so much stronger than you think you are. Do you promise me you’ll try to be happy?”
I wanted to tell her that I didn’t know how to be happy without her, that I didn’t know who I was when she wasn’t there, and I wasn’t strong enough to do this, but her pleading look was too much for me to take. So I lied a second time.
“Okay,” I mumbled. “I promise.”
Her smile only made me feel guiltier. “Thank you,” she said. “It’ll be easier to go when I know you’ll be okay.”
I helped her to her feet, not trusting myself to speak. Leaving the uprooted weeds
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