Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 66107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
I smiled. “If you think my ass is nice, you should see yours.” I gave her a gentle smack on the behind. “How do pancakes sound?”
“Ooh…and bacon. I’m in the mood for greasy, crunchy bacon.”
She hardly ever had an appetite, so I knew she was in a good mood. “And some eggs. Need some lean protein.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not in the mood to be healthy.”
“Well, if you want my ass to stay tight, I need to watch what I eat.”
She crawled out of bed. “I don’t care about having a tight ass, so bring on the bacon.”
Hand in hand, we walked into the assisted-living facility.
“What are we doing here?” Rome asked.
“There’s this woman I read to.”
“Aww…that’s sweet.”
I approached the nurse’s station in the lobby and saw Diane.
Her smile lit up the entire room when she looked at me. “Calloway, it’s always so nice to see you.”
“Thanks, Diane. How is she today?”
The woman beckoned us to follow her down the hall until we arrived at my mother’s room. As usual, she was sitting outside on the balcony, looking at the deep green grass of the lawn, beside an arrangement of colored flowers.
“She’s pretty good.” Diane waited by the door. “Just had breakfast, so she’s less grouchy.” She winked then walked out.
“What’s her name?” Rome whispered as we walked to the balcony.
“Theresa.” The patio door was opened, so I stepped on through, a Harry Potter book tucked under my arm. Anytime a normal son saw his mother, he probably greeted her with a hug. But I hadn’t hugged my mom in nearly a decade.
She sat in the rocking chair, her knitting on her lap. Her dark hair was curled in a classy way, her champagne pink top going well with her skin tone. Even if she didn’t remember who she was or where she lived, she still groomed herself every morning.
When she noticed me, she looked up. “Hello. How are you?”
I extended my hand to shake hers, for the umpteenth time. “Calloway Owens. I’m from Humanitarians United. I’ve come to read to you today.”
She eyed my hand almost suspiciously before she took it. “Oh, that’s nice. I have so much knitting to do I never have time to read.”
I smiled before I introduced Rome. “And this is…my girlfriend. Her name is Rome, and she also works with me.” If my mother could remember anything, she would be so happy to see me with a woman. She’d always nagged me to settle down, even before I turned eighteen. What she’d wanted more than anything else in the world was grandchildren.
“Oh, that’s lovely.” Mom smiled before she shook Rome’s hand. “You’re a beautiful girl. Good. Calloway is a very handsome man, so you two go well together.”
Rome chuckled. “That’s nice of you to say.”
I pulled out a chair for Rome so she could sit down. Then I sat beside her.
My mom watched me with astute eyes, blue and clear like my own. Sometimes I wondered if she recognized me, or at least felt a sense of familiarity. But she never connected the dots, never remembered her oldest son. “Calloway…that’s a nice name. I like it.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
“Your mother has good taste.”
“She certainly does.” I held up the Harry Potter book. “Would you like me to begin reading?”
“Sure.” She turned back to her knitting, her short brown hair falling forward as she looked down. She was just as thin as ever, never having an appetite, even when she was well. But she still held herself like a queen. My mother was beautiful despite her age, and I saw so much of myself when I looked into her face. Sometimes I saw Jackson too.
“Would you like to read?” I handed the book off to Rome.
“Sure.” Rome opened the book to the first page. “I’m not a performer, but I’ll do my best.”
“I’m sure it’ll be lovely, dear,” Mom said, using the yarn in her lap to knit a scarf.
I’d read the beginning of that Harry Potter book at least a hundred times. I practically had it memorized. Without the book in front of me, I could quote every line and every event.
Rome began to read, her beautiful voice soothing and enjoyable.
We spent the afternoon there, and Rome read so long she nearly finished the book. My mother listened, rocking the chair as she continued to focus on the work her hands were doing. Eventually, Rome grew tired and placed a bookmark between the pages. “I’m gonna lose my voice pretty soon…”
I rested my hand on her thigh. “We should get going anyway.” I rose to my feet and approached my mom, feeling the same pain I felt every time I had to leave. It would be easier not to bother coming at all, to give up hope that maybe one day her memory would come back to her. But I couldn’t live with that kind of guilt. If the situation were reversed, I knew my mom would always be by my side—no matter what. I wouldn’t feel like a man if I didn’t give her the same loyalty. Jackson claimed visiting her was pointless—and stupid. But I suspected he couldn’t handle the sight of her demise. He’d always been more sensitive than I was—even if he wouldn’t admit it. “We’ll see you again next week, Theresa.” I grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze.