Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57707 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57707 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
“It’s a lot for you,” Lacey says quietly. “A lot of … investment, Maya. Some days, you must lose money paying me while traveling to work.”
“Is there something you want to say?” I snap, far colder than I’d usually be.
My head is pulsing, and I don’t want to consider abandoning Mom.
Lacey takes a breath, then says, “Keeping your mom at home is becoming increasingly difficult. The medical expenses are adding up, which might be more than you can handle.”
“I know it’s tough, but I can manage. Mom’s happier here with me.”
“It’s not just about happiness. She needs care that we can’t provide here.”
I grit my teeth, agony twisting through me. “I’m doing everything I can to take care of her. She’s my mom.”
“I get that, but are you prepared for the financial strain? It could affect your future.”
“I can’t just give up on her. She needs me.”
Lacey steps forward and gently places her hand supportively on my arm. “I’m not asking you to give up. I’m asking you to consider what’s best for both of you.”
“I can’t …” My voice falters. “I won’t abandon her.”
“I just want to ensure she gets the care she needs, and you don’t stretch yourself too far until you snap.”
Tears try to prick my eyes, but I can’t let them. I need to be strong today and stay focused. “I promised her she’d always be with me. I can’t break that promise.”
Lacey squeezes my arm supportively. “You’re not breaking a promise by ensuring she gets the best care possible.”
“I’ll find a way. We’ll manage.”
She sighs. “Well, okay. I’m here to help however I can.”
I quickly leave, not wanting her to see how shaken up the conversation has gotten me. Lacey’s words won’t stop bouncing around my head. Maybe she’s right, but I can’t think about letting go.
Yet, the reality is starting to sink in. Soon, Mom won’t be able to stay with me anymore. The home we’ve shared for years has already become a place filled with medical equipment and strangers who tend to her needs. I’ve fought so hard to keep her home, but ALS doesn’t care about wishes. It progresses relentlessly, leaving me grappling with the painful truth that I can’t do this alone anymore.
Every day, I have to admit it. I see her decline a little more. Her once agile hands now lie motionless on the bed sheets. Once strong from our walks together, the muscles in her legs now lie still and wasted. It’s the beginning of the end, and I feel powerless against it.
I know deep down that the move to a care facility is inevitable and that it’s what is best for Mom’s comfort and safety. However, accepting it feels like betraying her, like admitting defeat in our battle against this cruel disease.
That’s why I have to focus on the step-by-step. Walk to the bus stop. Catch the bus. Go to work and keep my head down, one step, one breath at a time. Looking at the bigger picture, I feel like everything could crumble.
I stand in the kennel, a heavy hose in my hand, blasting down the wall. When Miles said the kennels needed cleaning, he seemed shocked when I eagerly volunteered, but I need to make myself useful. Now, wearing coveralls, gloves, and a mask, I begin wiping down the floor and the walls with heavy sponges.
As I work, I try to empty my mind. I don’t want to think about Mom, last night, or even Riley. I haven’t even texted her. Heck, she’s probably still asleep. I zone out, cleaning five kennels, when Miles bangs on the wall and says I should take a break.
“Sorry. I called, like, five times.”
“It’s okay.”
He tilts his head. “Are you good?”
“Please don’t touch me,” I say, cringing away when he tries to take me by the shoulders for no reason. He doesn’t need to have his hands on me. Nobody does except—No, just nobody. Miles raises his hands.
“Whoa, my bad.”
“I’m sorry. I just don’t like people touching me.”
“Don’t act like I’m some pervert, though. Jeez.”
Now he’s got me wondering if I’m overreacting. I turn away and start unzipping the overalls. I wear my regular clothes underneath, but I still feel weird as I strip them off. Miles sighs. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry about what?” says a familiar voice.
I turn as the caged beast from last night walks in, wearing a suit and tie. It’s shocking to see Tristan dressed like that, his clothes fitted to his every muscle. His face is freshly shaven, and his hair is cut, shaved on the sides, the top spiky. It gives him a military look—a Marine look.
“Nothing,” Miles says quickly.
“Nothing. Hmm.” Tristan walks over to me. “Maya?”
“Sorry, last night has got me shaken up. That’s all.”
“About what?”
My memory hitches, and it’s like I’m back there last night again, him scaling the cage, covered in my blood. I know what he’s saying; nothing happened last night. That’s what the suit is about, the shave, the aura of him being a new man.