didn’t deserve any support. She shook her head no and sunk back into her chair.
* * *
That day passed in a fog. Feeling that she needed to be punished, Amanda sat by her mother’s bedside, watching the nurses come and go. She excused herself a few times when they needed to do the intimate cares that Amanda never wanted to observe. Her mother always preferred to have Amanda help her use the bathroom or bathe, but Amanda hated doing these things for her.
When April came home after her first hospitalization, she refused home health care and relied on Amanda for everything. Amanda was fourteen-years old and had to help her mom get to the bathroom to vomit, or even worse, dump out her buckets of vomit when she was too weak to get to the bathroom. She shaved her mother’s head. She managed her pills, and picked up her prescriptions. During one horrible spell, Amanda held cigarettes to her mother’s lips so she could get rid of her nicotine fits right after the surgery.
Amanda’s life was always about cancer. Her mom asked about Amanda’s high school career when it suited her, but Amanda had learned long before that the pleasure that April took in Amanda’s life was always related to how it impacted April. She watched Amanda’s softball games when it seemed like fun, like on parent’s day when Amanda would give her a rose and a hug in front of a crowd. But when Amanda was pitching in the state tournament in previous years, April didn’t go because she hated driving in the Cities, or she didn’t like to sit with the other parents, or she had something more interesting going on at home. Amanda and April had always lived like sisters or girlfriends. Amanda figured out early, before she had words for the feeling, that she had never really been mothered.
But seeing her mother being cared for by others stirred up a new emotion that she didn’t have words for either. It was like the feeling that she had a few weeks before when she had let herself be preyed upon by a swarm of mosquitoes. It was the sense that she didn’t even exist at all. It was the knowledge that when everyone else in the world had a family tree, she had a dandelion with two blooms and no roots.
“Mama had a baby and her head popped off.”
The childhood rhyme rang in her head as she remembered how she and the other kids in the trailer court used to pick dandelions, sing the rhyme and pop the dandelion flower off with a flick of the thumb.
She was totally, utterly alone.
* * *
By early evening, Amanda was starving so she ate a bag of chips, a granola bar, and two bags of peanut M&Ms from the candy machine in the basement of the hospital, not allowing herself to leave the hospital to get money for anything more substantial. She was drifting off into a bored sleep when Trix and Jake walked in.
“Hi, sweetie.” Trix said, squeezing her shoulders. Jake hung back in the entryway, obviously uncomfortable.
“What … what are you doing here?” Amanda stood up and stretched, surprised to see anyone other than nurses.
“When you didn’t show up for lunch, we figured something had happened with your mom,” Trix said. Amanda had completely forgotten about lunch.
“Sorry, I, um …” She motioned to her mom and her voice trailed off.
Trix got tears in her eyes and nodded. “I know, sweetie.”
Jake had not looked up from the floor since he entered the room. Amanda wanted him to leave, knowing how hard it was for him to be back in this hospital watching someone die.
She walked them into the hallway. “The doctor said she’s not going to make it much longer, so I thought I should stay …” Her throat tightened. She hadn’t said the words out loud yet.
Trix pulled her into a tight hug. A sob came up from the bottom of Amanda’s stomach, and she actually thought she might vomit she sucked it back so hard. Amanda pulled away stiffly, but Trix wouldn’t let go of her hands. Trix was crying, and she wiped her eyes with her
* * *
That day passed in a fog. Feeling that she needed to be punished, Amanda sat by her mother’s bedside, watching the nurses come and go. She excused herself a few times when they needed to do the intimate cares that Amanda never wanted to observe. Her mother always preferred to have Amanda help her use the bathroom or bathe, but Amanda hated doing these things for her.
When April came home after her first hospitalization, she refused home health care and relied on Amanda for everything. Amanda was fourteen-years old and had to help her mom get to the bathroom to vomit, or even worse, dump out her buckets of vomit when she was too weak to get to the bathroom. She shaved her mother’s head. She managed her pills, and picked up her prescriptions. During one horrible spell, Amanda held cigarettes to her mother’s lips so she could get rid of her nicotine fits right after the surgery.
Amanda’s life was always about cancer. Her mom asked about Amanda’s high school career when it suited her, but Amanda had learned long before that the pleasure that April took in Amanda’s life was always related to how it impacted April. She watched Amanda’s softball games when it seemed like fun, like on parent’s day when Amanda would give her a rose and a hug in front of a crowd. But when Amanda was pitching in the state tournament in previous years, April didn’t go because she hated driving in the Cities, or she didn’t like to sit with the other parents, or she had something more interesting going on at home. Amanda and April had always lived like sisters or girlfriends. Amanda figured out early, before she had words for the feeling, that she had never really been mothered.
But seeing her mother being cared for by others stirred up a new emotion that she didn’t have words for either. It was like the feeling that she had a few weeks before when she had let herself be preyed upon by a swarm of mosquitoes. It was the sense that she didn’t even exist at all. It was the knowledge that when everyone else in the world had a family tree, she had a dandelion with two blooms and no roots.
“Mama had a baby and her head popped off.”
The childhood rhyme rang in her head as she remembered how she and the other kids in the trailer court used to pick dandelions, sing the rhyme and pop the dandelion flower off with a flick of the thumb.
She was totally, utterly alone.
* * *
By early evening, Amanda was starving so she ate a bag of chips, a granola bar, and two bags of peanut M&Ms from the candy machine in the basement of the hospital, not allowing herself to leave the hospital to get money for anything more substantial. She was drifting off into a bored sleep when Trix and Jake walked in.
“Hi, sweetie.” Trix said, squeezing her shoulders. Jake hung back in the entryway, obviously uncomfortable.
“What … what are you doing here?” Amanda stood up and stretched, surprised to see anyone other than nurses.
“When you didn’t show up for lunch, we figured something had happened with your mom,” Trix said. Amanda had completely forgotten about lunch.
“Sorry, I, um …” She motioned to her mom and her voice trailed off.
Trix got tears in her eyes and nodded. “I know, sweetie.”
Jake had not looked up from the floor since he entered the room. Amanda wanted him to leave, knowing how hard it was for him to be back in this hospital watching someone die.
She walked them into the hallway. “The doctor said she’s not going to make it much longer, so I thought I should stay …” Her throat tightened. She hadn’t said the words out loud yet.
Trix pulled her into a tight hug. A sob came up from the bottom of Amanda’s stomach, and she actually thought she might vomit she sucked it back so hard. Amanda pulled away stiffly, but Trix wouldn’t let go of her hands. Trix was crying, and she wiped her eyes with her
Similar Books
