“I don’t think it is, but I can afford the best lawyers to fight it out in court for as long as it takes. Can you?”
“Fine. You’ve got me by the balls. What do you want out of me?”
“I want you to stop posting lies about me. You stop, I won’t sue.”
Panic gives way to sheer terror. “That’ll ruin me! If all I can talk about is how good you are, I’ll lose subscribers.”
“I didn’t say you had to talk about how good I am. I simply said you had to tell the truth.”
Fallon rolls her eyes. “So I can either stop writing about you and lose my livelihood, or write about you and get sued.”
I click my tongue again. “If those are the only two options you see, then I’ve learned all I need to know about Fallon fucking Mae.” Sliding my phone back in my pocket, I turn my back on the woman once and for all.
“Have a lovely day,” I say, then lift my middle finger and strut down the steps.
FORTY-SIX
Mina
A few days after my conversation with Nathan, I’m sitting in the physical therapy room at Shady Cove, watching Mom walk on a treadmill. Her pace is improving. As is her stamina. When she checked in, they had to bring a wheelchair to get her from the car to her room. The woman in front of me wouldn’t need it. She notices me watching and waves, grinning like an Olympian taking gold, before giving her attention to her therapist, a beefy man with peewee football coach vibes.
“How long you been on?” he asks.
Mom checks the readout on her machine. “Ten minutes now.”
Another giant smile.
“What’s your pace?” asks Beefcake McGee.
“Up to a three!” Mom pumps a triumphant fist.
“And your exertion level?”
“I’d say a five or a six,” she replies. “A little out of breath but not that bad. Legs are starting to burn.”
The grin on her therapist’s face says he recognizes the improvement as much as I do. “Why don’t you go another minute and call it a day. That’s great work, Ms. Blake.”
Mom finishes up and does her seated cooldown exercises, then turns down a wheelchair escort to her room. “I don’t have anything else to do today and my daughter’s here. We’ll go slow and I’ll lean on her for support, then take a nap when she leaves.”
Her therapist gives the thumbs up, and Mom threads her arm in mine. I kiss the top of her head then set that slow pace she promised. Fatigue has a way of sneaking up on her. I don’t want excitement to trick her into overdoing it.
“Looks like you’re leaving here to go to work at The Depot.” Mom frowns at my black slacks and black fitted tee.
Returning the advance Nathan gave me definitely put me in a financial pickle. The clientele at my new job is swanky, so the tips are good, but I’m going to be late paying Shady Cove. Thankfully, they were willing to work with me. Glenda, the woman in charge of the finance office, is also a fan of Fallon’s blog. When she saw me walk in, her jaw hit the floor. After some awkward fangirling, she was eager to give me some grace ‘after my ordeal.’
“You promised you wouldn’t feel guilty about me working evenings and weekends,” I say, adjusting my grip on Mom’s arm. “It’s only temporary. Besides, I kind of like it.”
Interior design is mental. I sit in a chair and stare at screens or fabric swatches, daydreaming new color and texture combinations. Waitressing is movement. I’m running from one table to the next all night long. It’s the perfect outlet for my nervous energy.
“I wanted better for you than working so much you barely have time to sleep.” Mom sighs like the weight of the world is settling on her shoulders—an early sign fatigue is setting in. The sooner I get her back to her room, the better, but I don’t dare pick up the pace or I’ll wear her out. Managing her energy is a constant balancing act, but at least she has energy to manage now.
I pat her hand. “There is nothing better than knowing my time and energy are going towards your health and wellbeing. You should know that, considering you worked yourself to the bone for me when I was a kid.”
“That’s just motherhood, Meena Bean.”
The return of my childhood nickname sets off a burst of embarrassed warmth in my heart. “You went above and beyond, and you know it. I’m honored to return the favor. Our family is small, but boy are we mighty.”
“That we are, Meens. That we are.” Mom presses a hand to the wall, and I slow our pace a little more. “Have you heard from Nathan?”
She’s working hard to sound casual, like she didn’t just poke a tender bruise.
“Not really,” I reply, aiming to match her tone and failing. “A little for work, but with the plans for his house finalized, I’m pretty much out of the picture. We haven’t talked about anything real. Nothing about us.”
“I’m sorry, Mina. I so wanted all those red flags to be false.” Her eyes hit mine with the kind of understanding that only exists between mother and daughter, with decades of real, honest talk connecting them.
“You and me both.”
“Have you thought about calling him again?” she asks, smiling at a handsome older man trundling past with an IV stand as we turn the corner to her hallway. He grins, lifting a hand and dipping his chin in a gentlemanly bow. I widen my eyes at Mom after he passes and she waves the topic away, blushing furiously.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say my mother has a crush she’s trying to hide. She must be feeling even better than I thought.
“I didn’t give Nathan the time and space he said he needed the last time,” I say, honoring her need not to talk about Mr. Silverfox with great effort. “I’m giving it to him now. If he’s ready to try again, he’ll call.”
We make it back to Mom’s room and I help her into bed. The walk has tired her out enough that frustration tightens her features. There was a time when walking down a hallway was something she took for granted. There was also a time when we weren’t sure she’d ever manage it again. The stronger she gets, the more she wants what she once had, the easier it is to take her progress for granted.
“You’re doing great,” I say, brushing the hair back from her face. “Making good strides week after week.”
“That’s what they say.” Mom’s eyes slide closed as she sinks into her pillows.
