Jade makes a face. “Forget I asked anything!”
With half an ear, I listen to them bicker for a little longer as I make the turn into the parking lot. The place is deserted, as is to be expected since March has just begun, and the snow hasn’t even started to melt properly. I drive around until I spot the perfect place to park.
Killing the engine, I turn a worried gaze to Mom. “Dress warmly, okay?”
She glares at me. “Who’s the adult in this relationship?”
“Umm… that would be me?”
“Hahaha,” she says dryly and swats me on the head. “Funny.”
I capture her cold fingers between mine, giving them a squeeze. “It’s cold outside, even more since we’re on the beach. I worry.”
Her demeanor softens, making her look more vulnerable than before. Pulling her hand out of my grasp, she pats my cheek. “I know.”
Emotions swell inside of me, making me choke. I force my throat to relax.
Breathe.
Just breathe.
Looking up, I find Jade’s worried eyes observing me in the rearview mirror. Pain and heartbreak I know all too well stare at me for a moment. I wish I could take it away, and make this better for her, but there is nothing that can be done.
The sound of the zipper snaps us out of it. Grabbing my things, I get out of the car and go around to help Mom. She mutters something under her breath the whole time, but I choose to ignore it, hooking her arm through mine for support.
“Did you bring your camera?” Mom asks, looking over her shoulder at Jade.
“It’s here,” she grumbles, lifting the bag in the air to show it to her. “Not sure why, since I’m not interested in photography anymore.”
“You never know when inspiration might strike.”
Deciding it’s better that I keep my mouth shut, I lead them toward the beach. Icy air assaults us as soon as we step out in the open, and I can feel Mom shiver next to me.
Gritting my teeth so as not to say anything, I look at the horizon. Sky and ocean clash in the distance in the mix of blues and grays so tightly intertwined you can’t decipher where one ends, and the other one begins. Big waves mercilessly crash against the coast.
When we get to the center of the beach, Mom pulls to a stop. Her eyes are glued to the skyline, taking everything in. She inhales sharply, her eyes falling closed as she breathes in the salty ocean air.
“It’s so peaceful out here,” she says quietly, not bothering to open her eyes. “That’s why I love it so much.”
“I think it has more to do with us being on the beach in the middle of the winter, but sure.”
Mom blinks her eyes open and looks straight at me. She’s quiet for a moment, simply observing me as if she’s trying to figure me out. I want to squirm under her gaze. Like that time when I was six, and she caught me stealing cookies just before dinner.
“When did you become so jaded?”
When the cancer came back.
When you told me to go back to school like nothing happened.
When they told us it’s too late.
When you decided to get off the therapy.
When Dad left.
All the possibilities run through my mind, but I bite the inside of my cheek to hold them back. Nothing good will come of saying those things out loud anyway, and I’m not about to make this even more difficult for her than it already is.
A knowing look passes over her face. She shakes her head, leaning it against my shoulder before turning back to look at the ocean. “Silly question.”
Words to reassure her are on the tip of my tongue. I could say them, but we’d both know they’d be a lie. Just something to make her feel better about everything that’s been going on.
Instead, I wrap my arm over her shoulders and lean my head on top of her beanie-clad one.
“I wish things could be different,” I confess quietly.
Just the other day I told Yasmin I don’t believe in wishes, but right here, right now, I don’t care if it’s possible or not. I’m just a little boy holding onto his sick mom and wanting her to stay.
“Me too.” Mom grips my hand with hers. “Me too.”
Click.
The sound of the shutter going off is so soft I can barely hear it. But then there it is again. Three soft clicks fired in quick succession.
Click-click-click.
Mom hears it too, and we both glance up to find Jade looking down at the screen of her camera, a thoughtful expression on her face.
“Not interested, my ass,” Mom mutters watching Jade’s mouth tip in a smile. I choke on laughter, not used to hearing Mom cuss.
“What’s so funny?” She turns to me, her eyes narrowed.
I lift my free hand in surrender. “Not a thing.”
“Promise me you’ll take care of her.”
“Mom…” The word comes out choked, but this time there is nothing amusing about it.
“Promise me, Nixon.” The look in her eyes is almost desperate. “Don’t let her give up on her dreams just because she’s hurting.”
Her nails dig into my skin, but I can barely feel the pain.
“I promise.”
She nods and looks toward Jade. When she lifts her gaze, her cheeks flush, the camera dropping from her hands onto her chest.
“It’s not what you think!” Jade shouts so we can hear her over the howl of the wind.
Mom rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right.”
“It’s not.”
Mom just shakes her head at her. “Do you think we can stay a little longer?”
“You’re not cold?” She slowly turns her glare on me. “Fine. We can stay.”
“Let’s walk for a little bit.”
So that’s what we do. Jade joins us, and together the three of us walk on the beach as close to the ocean as we can get without getting wet from the oncoming waves.
“Let’s take a picture,” Mom suggests after a while. “The three of us.”
“But there’s nobody to take it.”
“I’m sure we can take one of those selfies you kids love these days.”
“Fine.”
Jade pulls the strap of the camera off her neck. Pressing a few buttons, she extends her hand and wraps her arm around Mom on the other side.
“Say cheese!” she shouts and clicks the shutter.
Jade turns the camera to look at the photo. “This is so bad.”
“Gimme that.” I reach for the camera. “Your arms are too short, Smalls.”
“I’ll show you who has short arms, you…”
She tries to grab the camera out of my hand; I pull it out of her reach, but not before another photo is snapped.
“Look what you did.”
“Zip it and smile.”
I extend my arm, which is way longer than Jade’s, thank you very much, as we pull in for another photo.
One click later, I check the screen and show it to them. “See? This is how it’s done.”
Our faces smiling, cheeks flushed from the wind as we hold on to each other.
“My babies,” Mom whispers, tightening her grip around us. There is no real strength in her arms, not anymore. She kisses Jade on top of her head and then does the same to me. “You two will be okay. I know it.”
“We’ll be okay,” I lie because I don’t have the heart to tell her the truth. We’re as far from okay as we can get, and I don’t see a way out of this hole. Nothing will ever be the same, especially not… I shake my head, refusing to even voice the thoughts in my head. No, nothing will be okay, but just for today, we can all pretend otherwise.