Twenty-Nine
I WAKE UP FEELING REFRESHED and not in as much pain. As my eyes focus, I see my room is dim, as if it’s late in the day but not quite twilight.
My back is to my window, but there’s enough light coming in to cast the shadow of another person on the wall.
I roll over and start to say, “Hello, sweetie—”, then I stop.
It’s not Helen.
It’s Mom.
“Feeling better, Tommy?” she says in that nasally voice of hers.
“I was,” I mutter. “What are you doing here?”
She huffs. “Well, isn’t that just gratitude for you,” Mom says. “Here I am, an old woman, just wanting to take care of her son, and he asks, ‘what am I doing here?” She begins to sniffle. “I was just checking on my little boy, that’s all. You’re all I have left, Tommy. Can’t I just help take care of you?”
I nod. “Of course M
