Zach and Abby

Chapter Four - Edited

Abby - Edited

All afternoon I'd been stressed over the fear that I made the wrong decision. My mom was Stage Three; she had trouble remembering people she'd just met, and introducing the second most important person in my life to her would make no difference. She'd forgotten his name a total of four times today, half of those were whispered to me when Zach wasn't paying attention.

And as for him, it was obvious he'd never encountered anything even remotely like this. He had zoned out a majority of the afternoon and whenever my mom talked to him directly, he was quiet and reserved; highly unlike him.

I hadn't expected my mom to get out of the car when I dropped Zach off but she said wanted to see the house. Then she decided she wanted to cook a meal. She was good at making herself at home. Zach and I followed her into the kitchen, all of a sudden she started pulling out boxes of pasta.

"Mom, what are you doing? Put those back." I started to put all the boxes back in the cabinet.

"No, Abby, I haven't cooked in so long. I want to make some dinner for your friends."

She wanted to make dinner? I haven't had a home cooked meal in about ten years. Most of the time, I ate Easy Mac or fast food. It was all Michael could do. I looked over at Zach who just stared at her. I was so confused. I didn't want her to get attached to him; not yet. And not to mention the other twenty football players she was offering to make dinner for.

"Mom, really we can't just -"

She put her hand up to cut me off. She must have been on some new medication because she never acted like this. She was suddenly acting like a normal mom and not the tired looking woman I've known for the eleven years.

"Abby, I'm fine. Zach, do you mind if I make you and your teammates some lasagna? You have a very nice oven that looks like it has never been used." I looked at Zach and gave in. I nodded at him and gave him a small smile. Here we go.

"Yeah, of course. I'm sure my teammates would love a home cooked meal."

He walked over to the refrigerator and started taking out cheese and other ingredients. For the next thirty minutes, the three of us cooked three trays of pasta. For just a little while I felt as if my mom was back. She was walking around the kitchen like she knew it by heart, she remembered how to cook when I don't think she's touched a stove in five years.

While we were making the food, football players started trickling in, wondering what smelled so good. By the time we pulled out the last tray, the whole team was surrounding the island.

"Eat up, boys. I hope you like it." The smile on her face appeared for the first time in over a decade.

Her and I just stepped back and watched the players devour the food. Comments about how good the food was echoed throughout the crowd the whole time. James came up and told my mom she needed to come by and make lasagna every Sunday.

I didn't say anything but that's what I was afraid of. The getting attached to new people, meeting more people just to forget them tomorrow.

At around 6:40, all the players packed up and left. Mom and I cleaned up the kitchen and I drove her home. The whole time, she just kept talking about how much fun it was to cook again. One of the few memories I have from when I was younger is helping her in the kitchen. My mom loved to cook and always told me she wanted to write a cookbook.

By the time I pulled into my dorm driveway, I thought I was going to be sick. I blamed on the anxious side of me, the part of my brain preparing itself for when the carpet was pulled out from under me. My life was predictable - it was a never ending roller coaster of good followed by bad. If this was the happiest I'd ever been, I didn't know if I could survive whatever may have been coming.