Chance Encounters

Chapter Three

"It's the start of another flare."

On the humid Sunday afternoon following her night out, Danica stood in her Mother's kitchen. Sunlight poured through the large bay window opposite the island counter, illuminating the immaculate floor she'd spent the last 10 minutes mopping. Gripping a well deserved tea in her hands until her knuckles paled, she turned to face her Mother.

In spite of the exhaustion that her illness plagued her with, Julie Vincent maintained an ever bright smile. The woman had a resilience to her that her daughter admired.

"You dont have to say that with such nonchalance," Danica said, taking a long sip of her drink before continuing. "The last flare was terrible."

"Trust me sweetheart, you don't have to tell me. I know. But what's the use in sulking over the inevitable?"

Julie hadn't always possessed the tenacious positivity she showed Danica in that moment. When she had been diagnosed 5 years before, she'd spent a week holed away in her room, crying loudly into her pillow. Danica had tried everything she could to pry her out, but with little success. At 17 years old, she lacked the experience to know how to deal with such situations. And so she swore to herself she'd focus on becoming independent enough to support their 2 person family. Birthed from the diagnosis was Danica's passion for healthcare, and the motivation to study hard to become a nurse.

"Have you been to the GP to get steroids?"

"Yes, I started them yesterday," she said, looking her daughter square in the eye. "And I know after last time you're bound to be concerned, but I'm fine. Honestly."

During her previous flare, Julie had taken the usual prescribed steroids to lessen her symptoms as she usually did. For whatever reason, the side effects of the medication had been exacerbated, and even when she finished the 5 day course, she had struggled to sleep, eat without throwing up, and her mood was irregular enough that Danica had stayed with her out of concern for her mental wellbeing.

"Maybe it's best that I come to stay with you. To keep an eye out, make sure your side effects aren't as severe this time."

"There is absolutely no need for that."

Julie broke eye contact to potter around the kitchen aimlessly, looking for any task to busy herself. If she hadn't been honest about her flare, Danica would have noticed. The tell-tale slur was back, elongating every word that left her tongue.

It was hard to not see the difference in Julie, who at 50 was physically fit and usually more agile on her feet than Danica had ever been. As her Mother adjusted the blinds and rearranged the magazines, the fatigue that blanketed her was clear. Her movements, clumsy and disorganised from the flare-up, were marginally slower than usual, as though she were moving through thick mud. Her hand jerked involuntarily, the paperwork she'd been sorting now flying across the floor.

As Julie cursed herself, Danica gathered the pieces of paper in silence, organising them into a neat pile on the kitchen side. She couldn't look in her Mother's eyes. Within them was everything she'd never say – how she hated her daughter picking up after her, looking after her as though she were the child, and the small flits of anger that her disease brought her in moments like this. Only when Danica heard her exhale hastily through her nostrils did she look up, meeting icy blue eyes that accessed her with a sad look.

"I really think I should stay--"

"No," Julie said, slamming a shaking palm against the countertop. "I'm completely capable of looking after myself."

"If you get that unwell again, Mum--"

At hearing the concern in her daughter's voice, Julie's expression softened. She hooked an arm lazily around Danica's shoulders and pulled her in close.

"I won't. I've got a wonderful new GP who has been going above and beyond since the symptoms started last week."

"Define above and beyond," Danica said.

"The doc read my notes and saw what troubles I had last time, and he's called most days this week to see how I'm doing. He sometimes pops by on his way home to check on me."

"And how old is this Doctor?"

"Closer to yours age than mine, that's for sure," she said, noticing her daughter's narrowed eyes. "Inf act, maybe it would be worth introducing the two of you. He's coming round a little later. He's great at his job, and--"

"Nope, not having this conversation today Mum."

It was Danica's time to find monotonous tasks to busy herself, in hopes her Mother would drop the subject. As she always did when she saw Danica was uncomfortable, Julie left the conversation at that and settled down at the dining room table.

The two slipped into their usual routine, with Danica helping her Mother with chores she insisted she had no trouble doing yet happily let her daughter complete. They spoke of everyday things, ignoring the elephant in the room as the two of them kept away from any conversation that could bring them back to Multiple Sclerosis or Danica's request to stay with her.

Resigned to the fact Julie wouldn't let her hole up in the guest room, she instead decided that she'd check in even more regularly. There was little doubt in her mind that her mother would see through any reason she gave to drop by, but she needed to be sure she'd be okay, even if her Doctor was visiting too.

When she'd done everything she could to help her Mother, and after a few hours of catching, Danica excused herself with the promise of returning after her long shift the following day.

"It'll be late by the time you finish," Julie said. "Go home, get some rest. I'll call you if I need anything."

Of course, the two both knew she wouldn't call unless imperative. Danica bid her a good night and kissed her goodbye, her mind swimming with worry as it always did when she saw Julie unwell. Each flare up was becoming progressively worse than the last, along with the side effects from the strong steroids she had to take to simply function.

Danica was welcomed home by a dark, quiet apartment. The destroyed business card still sat on her table, reminding her of yet another missed opportunity. Picking it up with a look of disgust, she threw it in the bin and promised herself she wouldn't think of it again.