When I Die [Wattys 2016]

Chapter 27: Smooth Sailing

Valentine's Day, I'd stayed up until daybreak writing a song for Myra. My dad came in my room twice throughout the night, as I pecked away at the keys to say, "Seriously? Go to sleep, son," while rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. He looked so confused both times. It took me a bit to get started, I regretted neglecting my songwriting for so many months. I hadn't even touched my keyboard or a guitar since I'd been diagnosed. But I think it was because I hadn't felt at all inspired. It's funny, because you'd think that the cancer would have served as my greatest inspiration, but it was just the opposite. I felt depleted of all creativity and energy, until I wrote about Myra... Then the words came easily.
I woke up at 1 pm that day, and immediately felt gross upon waking, but I had done it to myself. I would have felt gross without the cancer after staying up until 5 am. The song turned out well. I wrote about Myra so easily, the words had been sitting in my mind waiting for me to remember the right medium to get them out. The song was called "For Myra" for now, and I'd scrawled it across the burned disc I made after recording at 5 am. My voice had grown weary but I thought it sounded decent enough to give her. I'd never claimed to be a great singer, only decent enough to compliment my instrument playing. The song itself, admittedly, wasn't a whole lot. It ran three minutes and twenty-two seconds long, and it was pretty repetitive but I think it said everything I wanted it to. I planned to play it for her at the park that evening and would try to make it through without looking at her. I rolled out of bed and onto my feet, and shuffled downstairs after grabbing my jacket. I was weak and shaky, and I had to pause in the middle of the staircase. I felt myself getting worse. I had less energy than before. I took longer to move than before. I was paler than before, and I had rings under my eyes that made me look like I'd been fought and defeated. My mom was at the kitchen table, she had bills sprawled over the wood and she had glasses near the end of her nose. She looked up at me, paused in the middle of the stairway. She took her glasses off and folded her arms in front of her.
"Leo, are you alright?" She had worry lines across her forehead.
I thought about that for a second, I closed my eyes and measured the pain that was building up in my chest. "I'm okay, I think," I decided. I made the rest of the walk down the stairs and plopped down on the bench beside the table, across from mom.
She smiled at me.
"Sleep well? Your father said you were up pretty late," she was placing her glasses back on her nose and looking at the bills again.
"Yeah... Sorry about that. I was working on something, I really didn't realize what time it was."
She smiled then.
"Something for... your Valentine?" She was grinning now. I felt my cheeks blush.
"Maybe." I scoffed, and she winked at me.
"That's great, Leo. She will love it, I'm sure." She kept flipping papers.
We sat in silence for a minute, before the elephant in the room felt like it was crushing me.
"Mom, I'm sorry about the other night," I blurted out. That caught her attention, and she took her glasses off again, looking up at me. Her expression was a mix of shock and concern, and maybe a dash of confusion.
"I know you want to take me to Europe. I think it's awesome that you did that for us. I know you guys work hard so we can do things, and I'm sorry if I didn't seem very appreciative. I am." I was being sincere. I'd felt so awful since Aaron talked to me that night. I needed her to understand where I was coming from.
"Oh, Leo... We know. I mean, we don't know... But we do know it's hard," she paused, closing her eyes. She reached a hand over and laid it on my arm. She had tears in her eyes when she reopened them.
"Leo... We love you so, so much. You are one of our greatest gifts... We are so proud of you," she spoke calmly through the flood of tears now covering her cheeks. I hated it when she cried.
I opened my mouth to say something, I'm not sure of what, but she shook her head first.
"When you were born, the doctors said you were the loudest and most healthy baby they'd seen that week. You came after an easy, natural labor..I mean I felt hardly any real, real pain... Nothing like it was with Aaron or even Sam and Hattie after you. And you had rosy pink cheeks and you had a glow about you. You were exactly 8 pounds and you were just perfect. Your head was round. You weren't swollen. Your brothers and sister, well they just didn't look that way. They weren't unhealthy or... I mean, they weren't ugly or anything," she chuckled, and I did too, but tears still fell. I was trying to register where she was coming from. She looked off, past me, at nothing in particular.
"But I remember thinking, when they laid you on me that you felt like smooth sailing to me. I wished that the rest of your life would go as easily as the beginning of it."
I said nothing still, absorbing her words. I felt them, each one soaked in pain and tried to see this from her perspective, although it was difficult and painful.
"As you got bigger... You started singing and playing instruments and listening to music and we wanted to foster that in you... We didn't have a lot of money, but we tried. I hope you know that, Leo. Your father would work extra shifts every time you'd want something... Every time. He would do that happily. You were an easy kid. It was so easy to make you happy. I know, it got harder the older you got, but when you were little, you were so happy. We dreamt of what you'd be... Who you would become. I know, Leo, that this isn't what you had planned..." She paused, drawing a deep breath in.
"It's not what we had planned either." Her voice cracked and she wiped the tears from her eyes. I sat, still silent. I didn't know what to say, and I didn't think she was done.
"I want to see you grow up. I want to see you graduate, and go off to school, and see what you become. I want to see you get married and buy a home... I want to come visit you. And I want you to tell me I'm going to be a grandma again and watch you travel and learn and grow."
I swallowed hard. Was she still in denial?
"Mom," I shook my head.
"You know that's not-" I started, but she held a hand up, cutting me off.
She nodded, "I know. I know Leo. I... know that's not going to happen. And I'm sorry if it upsets you that we don't like to think about that. I know you think we like to pretend... That's true," she swiped at a tear hanging from her chin,
"We're trying, okay?"
She looked at me then, looking quite unsure of if she said the right thing or not. My mom was powerful, and radiant, and calm. She always held it together when things started to fall apart and I wasn't used to seeing her this way. I almost felt like I was siphoning off her power, like I was taking all the power she had and living off of it. But I wasn't getting stronger. I was feeding off of her but we were both getting worse. Like pumping air into a tire with a hole. I was taking her down with me.
"I love you, mom. I'm sorry, I know I'm not easy to get along with lately... I've been an ass," I grabbed the back of my neck and shrugged a bit.
I was ashamed, and from deep down, guilt was starting to rise up. I would do better for her, I swore to myself.
She stood up from the table and walked around to me, taking her arms and wrapping them around my aching chest. She gently squeezed me and weeped openly, and I did too. The guilt rose up and overflowed down my cheeks and onto her shoulder. We stood there for a good, long while, just crying and hugging and I think at some point I realized that she would remember this and cry again when I was gone.