Love Undefeated (Unexpected #5) (35 page)

“You and your father…always jealous of other people,” she said as she shooed the tiny gnat floating around her tea with her hand.

“Is it true, mom?” I grinned, laying back on the comfort of the cushioned seat that Claudia had placed in the room so I could sit by my mom today.

“It is.” A mocking pause, followed by a wave of her hand. “Claudia’s less grumpy than you and your father combined. She likes to listen to me talk about knitting and gardening and Johanna Lindsey’s romance novels for hours.”

I rolled my eyes and grabbed the business magazine laying on top of the coffee table. “She’s getting paid tons of money to listen to you, mom.”

She chuckled. “You’re so pessimistic. Claudia doesn’t have to listen to my stories. She’s paid to hand me pills, but not to listen to me. I’d like to say that she does it because she likes me.”

I actually agreed with her. We were incredibly lucky to have Claudia from the private nursing agency. She was a semi-retired nurse who was in her mid-fifties and found a lot of things in common with my mom. Claudia loved to talk about her grandkids which I found highly amusing, since whenever Nalee visited my mom would start to tell Claudia, “Just imagine how precious my grandkids will be. Nalee’s a charmer and my son, well, he’s my son.” Whatever that meant.

Nalee would blush and look at me and we’d both smile.

I could tell that it didn’t bother Nales to talk about having children in front of my mom. I thought it would, but when Nales responded with, “I’m pretty sure arrogance is an inherited paternal trait so our kids better come with warning labels. KEEP OUT! DANGER DANGER!”

My mom found it extremely funny. Claudia thought it was hilarious.

I thought it was inventive.

I’d order a baby onesie with those exact words printed on the front.

“What do you think, mom? Should dad go back?” The last thing my father wanted to do was to leave my my mom in the house by herself. Now that we had Claudia, he thought that I could unload some of the heavy lifting onto his shoulders. I wasn’t completely convinced that he wanted to go back to work.

She took her eyes off the scenery outside and leveled her gaze at me. “Your father wants to help you. He thinks you and Nalee should have more time for yourselves.”

She flicked her fingers together, the movement making my heart squeeze, the slight shaking in her hands reminded me that my mom was really sick. “Tick tock, son. Time’s a ticking.”

“Huh?” Removing my hands from the magazine, I stood up and trekked the short distance to my mom.

Her hair was shorter and her scalp was bald on one side. It had to be shaved so that the hematoma could be drained and also as a preparation for surgery if her condition hadn’t improved. Thank God she woke up on the fourth day and the doctors said that her condition was stable and improving. She didn’t need any surgeries.

“I’m not trying to push you and Nalee into anything.” My mom held her hands close to her heart. “I just don’t know how and when my disease will progress to the next stage.”

My dad had asked for a third consult and a fourth one, and all were conclusive.

At the age of fifty seven she had Parkinson’s.

The same disease that took her mother, my grandmother’s life before she’d turned eighty three.

The doctors diagnosed her to be in stage one. The progression from stage one to five could take years or decades; there were times when a person skipped stages. You could go from stage one to stage five at a faster rate, depending on how the disease affected your body. It was the unpredictability of how the disease advanced that made it difficult to pinpoint just when she was going to lose her motor functions.

I’d learned a lot about the disease.

When your loved one was sick, you pump yourself with all the information that you could get.

I stayed away from WebMD; my friends in the medical field called it a bunch of crap.

I’d talked with Sedona, my nursing genius friend, who now treated me better after she’d seen how Nalee and I were getting along and after I’d had a one-on-one with her and Tanya, the sometimes witch, and apologized to them for how I’d treated Nales. It was important for me that they knew that I was here to stay, in their BFF’s life forever.

“Mom, please don’t say that…” My voice held a plea, but reality sucked, and I knew that one day she might not be able to talk or walk or remember anything from her past and present, she might even become unaware of her surroundings.

“I want you to know that I love you most.” I kneeled down in front of her, letting her voice sweep over me. The words of the woman who has always encouraged me to be the best version of myself. “You’re the gift that this world has given me.” Tears poured out of her eyes. “I hope to see you and Nalee have the same thing that your father and I have been blessed with. I see how much you love her and she loves you back.”

“I don’t know how long I’ll be around for. Physically I hope to last as long as my body can. Mentally I’m not sure how long my brain will hold against this disease.” The crack in her voice created a wide fissure in my heart. “Yesterday, I couldn’t even remember what I was doing in the kitchen. If your dad wants to go back to work, let him. It makes him feel good to know that he’s doing something. It’s what he knows best. If you want to let go of the company and do something else, go do it.”

I soaked in her soft, tender words and the love in her eyes that only a great mother like her could bestow.

“I’m doing okay, Mom. The company’s okay.” I raised my head up and one thing I could never do was lie to my mother’s face. “I’ll talk to Dad. Maybe we can hire someone else to run it on a full-time basis. I want to go back to design. I can help out, part-time, be a mentor, but I don’t think I can do it for another year. My heart’s not in it.”

With a wealth of understanding in the eyes that I’d inherited from her, she smiled. “We don’t live forever. We get one chance at this life. I’m asking you for grandkids before I can’t grasp the meaning of grandkids anymore. But your life’s not mine to dictate either. If that’s what you want, you do it. You’re a good son. You gave me tons of mini-strokes in high school when you thought girls and condoms were the greatest things on earth.”

“Please, Mom. Let’s not talk about that. Ever again.” I cringed, my face soured at the memory of my mom finding my used condoms that somehow missed the trash can in my bathroom.

“I’m just saying, after all the crazy antics you’ve pulled and all the one-on-one parent-teacher-principal meetings your dad and I were forced to attend…” Teenage girls were so dramatic and so were their brothers who I’d often gotten into skirmishes with when they saw me hanging out with their sisters. “You’ve turned out to be a nice man and I’m proud of you.”

I held her cool hands, the ones cradling my head, the same hands who’d smacked me when I tried to steal pogs at the toy store so I could trade with my buddies during my lunch break. It was a special edition X-Men pog that was in demand during SLAMMERS. The same hands that disciplined me were the very same that soothed my tears when I’d ran my bike into a ditch and fractured my elbow.

I stared at her.

My knees on the floor, her hands on my forehead.

I’d been given one life.

And that one life, she’d been the one to give it to me.

It was infinite.

The cycle of life, alpha
and
omega.

She’d given me my beginning and I’ll be here until the end.

“I love you,
ma-ma.
” I hadn’t call her that in twenty two years. Her hands shook as I’d said them, and I chose to believe that the shaking wasn’t because of her Parkinson’s.

It was because she could feel just how much she meant to me.

There were people who didn’t celebrate birthdays.

And some who went all out.

My sister belonged to the first group.

I belonged in the second flock.

I loved birthdays.

Especially mine.

“Thank you!” I exclaimed as I signed on the delivery guy’s electronic signature pad.

Since I’d moved to the West Coast and my mom couldn’t make it to my birthdays, she and I had made our own tradition.

She baked me a cake and sent it via UPS or FedEx overnight.

I was carrying the box of goodness to my office when Nelson caught my retreating form.

“What are you hiding there, missy?” Nelson’s brows tipped in intrigue.

I didn’t really want to share it with anyone, but for him I’d make an exception. “It’s a cake from my mom.”

“Oooh la la.” His mouth watered while he stared at the white parcel I was holding onto for dear life. “It’s the cake of all cakes!”

He remembered that today was my birthday.

When I’d arrived at my desk this morning, three pink balloons were tied to my office chair and my staff had gathered around me as I walked into the kitchen to refill my cup with hot water. They’d sang happy birthday and showered me with hugs.

Nelson handed me a card that was the size of a billboard and the amount of the giftcard inside it was just as enormous.

Every year, he’d give me a gift card to Neiman’s. I didn’t normally shop there. The prices were out of my range, though Nelson would argue otherwise.

“I’ll share it with you,” I whispered even as he closed the door to my office.

“Yippee all the yippity yap!” As usual, he was immaculately color-coordinated. The pink tie, white suit, and white dress shoes. He could get a side job at the local fair, entertaining tourists with his wardrobe.

I pushed aside a stack of paperwork and placed the package in the center of my desk.

“Take a picture of me! I’ll send it to Mom before I go to our meeting.” I was giddy to open it. I’d tasted cakes from around the world. My mom’s was and will always be the best.

“Settle down, birthday girl.” Nelson laughed, and he was lucky I was giving him a piece. A tiny one, but still a piece.

I removed the cardboard box it shipped in and found a white box with a light pink ribbon tied around it.

A small note was attached to the top of the box.

“Happy birthday, my dear Nalee. I hope this one’s a great one.”

I held the tag a little longer, missing my mom just a little more.

The sight of the strawberries, apples, kiwis, tangerines, and cherries artfully arranged on top of the buttercream that covered the two sponge cakes was enough to make me drool.

I was amazed that the fruits didn’t shift to the sides or topple all over the cake during shipment.

Nelson took a picture and I sent it to my mom’s email. She didn’t care for a smart phone, so she’d see the picture later this afternoon when she fired up her computer.

Reaching under my desk, I grabbed two small paper plates and cut two unequal slices of the cake.

The big slice was for me of course.

Nelson looked at his piece and shook his head. “You’re lucky I’m trying to lay off the calories, or birthday girl or not, I would throw you on the floor and steal this magnificent delicatessen.”

I sat on my chair and tasted my childhood in between bites. Geniah sent a video message this morning. Mom and Dad left a voicemail. I was in the shower and tried to return their call, but my call went straight to voicemail.