Secrets At Maple Syrup Farm. Rebecca Raisin
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her expression, but it was farcical, her smile too bright to be believable.
I squinted at her. “Really? Now who’s messing with who?”
She threw her head back and laughed. “Well, we’re on speaking terms at least. And she offered to help so you could go away for a bit. So I don’t want to hear any more excuses. Got it?”
Stepping back to the bed, I hugged her small frame, resting my head on her shoulder so she wouldn’t see the tears pool in my eyes. How could I tell her I didn’t want to go? Leaving her would be like leaving my heart behind. Plus, accepting favors from Aunt Margot… We’d never hear the end of it.
Mom pushed me back and cupped my face. “I know you’re scared. I know you think it’s the worst idea ever. But, honey, I’ll be OK. Seeing you miss out on living, it’s too much. The young nurses here gossip about their weekends and all the fun things they manage to cram into each day, and then there’s you, the same age, wasting your life running round after me. Promise me, one year, that’s all. Can you just imagine what you’ll learn there with all those great teachers? Just the thought…just the thought…” Her eyes grew hazy as she rewrote my life in her dreams.
I knew to grow as an artist I needed proper training, but that was for people who had lives much more level than mine. My day-to-day life was like a rollercoaster, and we just held on tight for the downs, and celebrated the ups when they came. But Mom’s expression was fervent, her eyes ablaze with the thought. I didn’t know how to deny her. “Fine, Mom. I’ll start saving.” Maybe she’d forget all this crazy talk after a while.
“I’ve got some money for you, enough for a bus fare, and a few weeks’ accommodation, until you land a job. It’s not much, but it will start you off. You can go now, honey. Tomorrow.”
“Where’d you get the money, Mom?”
She rested her head deeper into the pillow, closing her eyes as fatigue got the better of her. “Never you mind.”
My stomach clenched. She’d really thought of everything. Aunt Margot must have loaned it to her. And I knew that would come at a price for Mom. There’d be so many strings attached to that money, it’d be almost a marionette. There was no one else she could have asked.
When I was in middle school my father had waltzed right out of our lives as soon as things got tough, and since then not a word, not a card, or phone call. Nothing. That coupled with our lack of communication with Aunt Margot, a woman who cared zero about anything other than matching her drapes to her lampshades, made life tough. But we’d survived fine on our own. We didn’t take handouts; we had pride. So for Mom to do this, borrow money, albeit a small amount, and have Aunt Margot come and rule her life, I knew it was important to her—more important than anything.
“I just… How can this work, Mom?” I folded my arms, and tried to halt the erratic beat of my heart.
Just then a nurse wandered in, grabbed the chart from the basket at the end of the bed, and penned something on it. “Everything OK?” she asked Mom, putting the chart back and tucking the blanket back in.
“Fine, everything’s fine, Katie. My baby is setting off for an adventure and we’re excited.”
Katie was one of our regular nurses—she knew us well. “That’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time, Crystal!” She turned to me. “And, Lucy, you make sure you write us, and make us jealous, you hear?”
I forced myself to smile, and nodded, not trusting my voice to speak without breaking.
Katie checked Mom’s drip, fussing with the half-empty fluid bag. “We’ll take good care of your mom, don’t you worry about a thing.”
“Thanks, Katie. I appreciate that,” I finally said. She gave us a backward wave, and said over her shoulder, “Buzz me if you need anything.” Mom nodded in thanks.
We waited for the door to click closed.
“What you’re asking me to do is pretty huge, Mom.” My chest tightened even as I considering leaving. What if Aunt Margot didn’t care for Mom right? What if she upped and left after a squabble? How was Mom going to afford all of this? Did Aunt Margot understand what she was committing to? So many questions tumbled around my mind, each making my posture that little bit more rigid.
“It has to be now, Lucy. You have to do it now; there’s no more time.”
My heart seized. “What? There’s no more time!” I said. “What does that mean? Have the doctors said something?” I wouldn’t put it past Mom to keep secrets about her health. She’d try anything to spare me. Maybe the pain was worse than she let on? My hands clammed up. Had the doctors given her some bad news?
“No, no! Nothing like that.” She tried valiantly to relax her features. “But there’ll come a time when I’ll be moved into a facility. And I won’t have you waste your life sitting in some dreary room with me.”
My face fell. We’d both known that was the eventual prognosis. Mom would need round-the-clock care. But the lucky ones lasted decades before that eventuated, and Mom was going to be one of them. I just knew she was. With enough love and support from me, we’d beat it for as long as we could. Her talk, as though it was sooner rather than later, chilled me to the core. There was no way, while I still had air in my lungs, that I would allow my mother to be moved to a home. I’d die before I ever allowed that to happen. When the time came, and she needed extra help, I’d give up sleep if I had to, to keep her safe with me. In our home, under my care. Going away would halt any plans of saving for the future, even though most weeks, I was lucky to have a buck spare once all the bills were paid, and a paltry amount of food sat on the table.
“You stop that frowning or you’ll get old before your time. I’ve got things covered,” she said throwing me a winning smile. “I’ll be just fine, and Margot’s going to come as soon as I’m out of here. Don’t you worry. Go and find the life you want. Paint that beauty you find and I’ll be right here when you get back. Please…promise me you’ll go?”
I gave her a tiny nod, gripped by the unknown. I always tried to hold myself together for Mom’s sake, but the promise had me close to breaking. Dread coursed through me at the thought of leaving Mom, the overwhelming worry something would happen to her while I was gone.
But getting back on the open road, a new start, a new city, just like we used to do, did excite some small part of me. We used to flatten a map and hold it fast against a brick wall. I’d close my eyes and point, the pad of my finger deciding our fate, the place we’d visit next. That kind of buzz, a new beginning, had been addictive, but would it feel the same without my mom?
The bus careered with a squeal and skidded off the road, startling me from slumber. Instinctively, I clutched hands with the woman beside me. Before shock fully registered the driver hit the brakes hard and we pitched forward in our seats. A shriek caught in my throat as we slid sideways toward a metal fence. I dropped the woman’s hand and braced myself as the bus leaned so far to the left dusty-colored ground screamed into view.
“Glory be!” the woman beside me said, her voice edged with worry.
The bus driver swerved and stopped dead just before we hit the shiny gleam of the fence. The commuters let out a collective sigh of relief. My heartbeat thrummed in my ears, as I surveyed the pitch-black night, wondering where we were, and if our journey would stop here, on some lonely forgotten road. I took a gulp of air deep into my lungs, trying to gather myself.
“Sorry, folks,” the bus driver said sheepishly, making eye contact with me in the rearview mirror. “Damn deer trotted on past without a care in the world. Everyone OK?”
I turned in my seat to check. People sat, eyes wide, mouths in an O, but no one seemed hurt in any way, just stunned awake by fright.
Commuters