My hands were trembling as I ripped open the box and fumbled with yet another plastic wrapping. I was clenching my knees together so tight that I thought the bone would crack. I had drunk four bottles of water before bed last night, and now my bladder was ready, but I wasn’t.
“Dammit.”
Finally, I ripped the package open and nearly tripped over my bathroom rug as I fell onto the toilet. Ben had called moments before and told me not to worry. “We were careful,” he assured me, but somehow, as I crouched over my toilet with my hand between my knees, I didn’t feel careful. I felt vulnerable and exposed.
“One, two, three, four, five.”
Wiggling back into my shorts, I laid the stick face up on the bathroom sink but closed my eyes so hard that tears formed where the lashes met my cheek. I reached for my phone and realized I had to open my eyes to start the time. I turned away from the sink unable to risk being mesmerized by the results slowly forming in the tiny window. Once I was sure I could not see the stick, I opened my eyes and swiped my finger along the bottom of the screen. It came to life and there was Ben. We were surrounded by Christmas lights and a tiny, decorated tree. We were smiling. Letting out a sigh, I swiped over and tapped on the clock app and braced myself against the sink.
Three minutes isn’t a long time. Three minutes of your favorite TV show turns into three hours, but three minutes waiting turned time into a slow, agonizing, crawl. Ben had said we had options, but did we really? Were those his options?
After what felt like hours, the timer went off. I pushed my hair out of my face and turned slowly to face the mirror. In the square reflective surface above the sink was a girl. She had pale blue eyes that were puffy and red. Her mascara from the day before lingered in clumps smudging her face in odd patterns of black. I knew it was me, but it didn’t feel like me. Would it look like this? People said that I looked like my mom, so. I leaned in close to the mirror desperately trying to find her here in this moment, but instead I found her the same way she left me.
—
“Okay, Mom.” I said trying to pull my hand out of hers.
She was in her red chair with her legs extending out in front of her.. I made sure not to tug too hard. I wanted to play cards with my uncle. I was missing the game, but she always winced from pressure too hard. She never said it, but you could see it in the way her eyebrows scrunched and in the way her breath caught in her throat.
“Mom, I seriously have to go. Jenn won’t wait on me”
She smiled softly at me than finally let go of my hand. I carefully scooted around the end of her chair and then raced through the living room and into the kitchen.
Jenn, Liz, and my Uncle Jim were already holding their cards. I threw myself into the wobbly kitchen chair beside Jenn and put my hands out in front of me hoping that she would still allow me to play. After a moment, she rolled her eyes and dealt me in. The first two rounds of Rummy went by fast. Uncle Jim won most of the rounds. He was the type of man who believed that catering to children was dumb. In some ways, I liked that about him. With him, I was an adult capable of holding my own. Even if it was only in the world of aces and spades.
I was picking up my nine cards for our final round when my father walked into the kitchen. He didn’t move past the wooden frame.
“Jenn, Brooke where are yall’s shoes?”
“In our rooms,” I said without looking up and sprinkled with a little attitude. Couldn’t he tell I was organizing my cards. This was my comeback round. I could feel it.
“Where?”
Something in his voice made me stop. He was still in the doorway and his hands were firmly pressed into the wooden frame. It was like he was trying to hold up the house, or himself.
“I don’t know, Dad. I think mine and Liz’s are in the closet. I can go get them,” I said, moving out of the chair knowing I could find them faster than him anyway.
“No.” His hand flew from the frame as he motioned for me to stop. The ‘no’ was not a suggestion or a conversation. He looked at my uncle for several moments. Even with no words a conversation had happened then he moved out of the room.
“What’s happening?” I asked.
Jenn was quiet, like she knew the same secret that Dad has just shared with Uncle Jim. Liz was leaning over the table trying to reach our cards to peek at them. She was eight and not really playing. She was functioning as more of a spy for my uncle which probably explained his massive lead. Only Liz moved. My eyes darted between Jenn and Uncle Jim. No one spoke, but I knew something was happening. Finally, Uncle Jim rose from the table, the chair legs squealed across the floor. His gaze still held Jenn’s as he told us to stay in the kitchen and then he was gone too..
Moments later my dad threw three mismatched pairs of flip flops on the ground.
“Put them on” He instructed with out taking his eyes off the door that led to the living room.
“Why” Liz whined
“Do it” Jenn snapped as Dad’s focus shifted back to us. Jenn’s tone made Liz scamble to get her shoes. I slipped my feet into one bright purple and one dark green flipflop as I watched my dad. Before I could process what was happening, he shuffled us towards the glass door that led from the kitchen to the back yard.
“Dad?” Jenn asked.
“You’re going with your grandma.”
One firm push as Dad looked through us. Jenn took mine and Liz’s hands and led us around the left side of the house. I saw my grandma standing in the driveway. Her silver SUV was parked on the street and her mouth was moving. I knew she was talking to me, but I couldn’t hear. I couldn’t hear or see anything except for the flashing red lights of the ambulance that blocked my grandma from entering the driveway.
I felt my grandma’s hands around my shoulders. I was in the car. There were tears. I couldn’t get them to stop. The world around me blurred as we drove away. The air inside her car was warm and it stuck to my skin. My face was hot and the tears shook my body. I tried to look out the window, to watch, to understand, but I couldn’t. What had I missed? My fists slammed into the window as my brain finally put the pieces together. Then I screamed the only word I could find, “no”
No, to what was happening. No, to the thought of never seeing her again. No, to the doctors who said she was going to beat cancer. No, to the prayers that didn’t work. No, to being left without a mother. No. No. No.
—
I could feel the tears running down my face. Smearing the leftover mascara even more. But as I wiped away the fresh pain, I saw her in my blue eyes. I steadied myself and took a deep breath. I let one more moment pass then I flipped the stick over and looked at the oval screen.
I could only find one word: “No.”
Ink & Interruptions 
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