Maybe I’d get that, too. If I was really dying.
“Her name’s Rae.”
Mom smiled. “Pretty name. How’d you meet her?”
I snickered. “School, actually. I used to—”
And when I paused, Mom sighed.
“You used to pick on her.”
I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I still don’t understand why in the world you run around with those kids. That Roy boy. They’re such a bad influence on you.”
I pulled away from her touch. “You don’t understand, Mom. I can’t expect you to.”
“Then try. Try to explain it to me, while we have time.”
“We’d have had time if you hadn’t left me with Dad.”
“I was in no condition to take care of you. I was hooked on so many things and—”
“And an abusive father seemed like the best route to take?”
Tears filled her eyes. “At least you would’ve been clothed. Fed. Had a roof over your head. I didn't have those things, after the divorce.”
“You got a very nice settlement from Dad. He’s still paying you alimony. What happened?”
She shook her head. “Can we try to focus on the good things? Please?”
“I want to know why you left me behind.”
There was a long pause before a tear leaked down her cheek.
“Because I was selfish. Because I was thinking of only myself, in the moment. Between my depression and the medication I got hooked on, I fell into a dark hole. And I didn’t want to take anyone with me. Pushing you away was the only rational fix I could come to in my pill-induced stupor, so you wouldn't fall into that hole with me. Just like divorcing me was your father’s way of getting himself out of that hole. Because for a while, he was in it with me.”
I chewed my lower lip. “I guess, in some ways, I already knew that.”
“Because you’re a smart boy, Clint. Even though you don’t apply yourself in school and even though you run around with those hoodlums, you’re a good kid. A smart kid. A fighter, with a strong spirit. Your father almost succeeded in dampening my strong spirit. Don’t let him do that to you, okay?”
I paused. “If you’re here with me, does this mean you’re dead?”
She shook her head. “No, silly boy. I’m a manifestation. There isn’t anything right now that we’re talking about that you don’t already know inside this funny little head of yours.”
She tapped her finger softly against my temple and I caught her wrist with my hand. I pulled her palm to my lips and kissed it. Over, and over, and over again. I didn’t care if it wasn’t real. I didn’t care if this wasn’t really her. It felt like her. And smelled like her. Just like I remembered.
And I didn’t want it to ever go away.
“You’re a fighter, Clint. Fight for this. Fight for your life.”
I shook my head. “I’m tired of fighting, Mom. I don’t want to do it anymore.”
“She’s waiting for you, sweetheart.”
“You’re a fighter, Clint. Fight for this. Fight for your life.”
I furrowed my brow as my mother’s voice distorted itself.