“What’s stopping you?”
“Holland told me to take all the time I need here, helping out and taking care of you. That’s what I plan to do.”
“You can’t stay here indefinitely, Mal.” My mom tips her head to the side. She’s put on her firm voice. Some may call this tone of hers stubborn.
“I’m not staying indefinitely,” I argue. “Just until you’re back on your feet.”
“That might never happen,” she says quietly.
“Hey!” I stand up and cross the room, sitting at the end of her couch. “Don’t talk like that. You’re going to be walking around in no time. We’re going to get you the best therapists and the best treatment, and you’re going to be fine.”
She reaches over and pats my arm. “You’re the best daughter, Mallory. You really are. But it’s okay. I’ve made my peace with the fact that I may have to be in a wheelchair after this.”
“But—”
“I’ll try my best with therapies and all that, of course,” she says over the top of my opposition. “But sometimes, we have to understand our own limitations and realize that we’re not invincible. My body can only do so much, given this disease, and that’s okay.”
Tears well up in my eyes. “It’s not fair, though. You’re a dancer. You’re a social butterfly. You aren’t supposed to be wheelchair bound.”
I’ve been struggling with thewhyof all of this for a long time…ever since my mom’s diagnosis, but more so since her fall.
“I don’t get to decide that, honey. And neither do you. So much of life, of suffering, is out of our control.”
I bite my lip as she goes on.
“I’ve watched you try to take control of this for me, like you’ve done with everything else in your life. You’ve put your head down and put in the work, and things have gone according to your plan, for the most part. You’ve helped your dad and me so much as you’ve gotten older, and sometimes I fear that you think if you do all the right things and make enough money, you’ll be able to white knuckle life into having the outcome you want it to have.”
I lean back on the couch. She’s right. I know she’s right. I’ve been so focused on working hard and making enough money to provide for my parents to keep my mom as healthy as she can possibly be that I failed to remember that I’m not God. I actually don’t have that kind of power.
“Sometimes, things don’t go according to plan. Sometimes, things go off course through no fault of our own, and we don’t have any control over it.”
“I know, and I hate it,” I admit. “No one should have to go through something like this, especially not you, Mom.”
“Oh, sweetie. Here’s the thing. As soon as you can shift your perspective from ‘why me?’ to ‘where’s the good in this?’ the world becomes a much more joyful place, no matter your circumstances.”
I frown. “Where can you possibly see the good in an autoimmune condition that’s stolen your ability to move?”
“Lots of places,” she answers quickly. “I’m reminded every day of what a blessing you and your dad and your aunt Jo are to me. I have a devoted family who loves me in sickness and health.”
“That’s true, but we wouldn’t have needed a disease to show us that,” I argue.
“Fine, then how about this? If you hadn’t felt like you needed extra money to help cover my medical expenses, you wouldn’thave agreed to be onMost Eligible Mister.” She arches her brow, daring me to argue.
“I guess that’s true.”
“And if you wouldn’t have agreed to be on Most Eligible Mister, you would never have seen Holland in a different light.”
She’s right. I would have kept him firmly in a work-only box.
“Now, you are two little love birds, sitting in a tree.”
I roll my eyes.
“Which brings me back to the point. You should go to his tournament. Be there for him.”
My heart trips at the thought of being with Holland again. I want to do that, but I’m torn about leaving my mom’s side. The last time I did that, she fell, and I wasn’t here.
“Mal, I would have fallen down the steps whether you were in Cashmere Cove or in the next room. It’s not your fault,” she says, reading my mind.
