Hendrix ✓

20 ★ Cave in

Knocking on the door, I chew on this inside of my cheek in anticipation as I hear my mom making her way towards me unsuspectingly.

When the door finally opens, her mouth literally drops open. She's always been one for theatrics. I roll my eyes and put my arms around her. My luggage goes toppling over.

"Hey, Mama." I say, as if nothing's wrong, and it's completely normal that I'm here on her doorstep with my things.

She stands still for a moment, soaking in my warmth before she finally wraps her arms around my waist.

"Who told you, sugar?" She asks in my ear, petting my hair softly with her long, acrylic nails. I sigh. So she figured it out.

I lean back, looking up into her kind eyes and shaking my head.

"It doesn't matter. I'm here now, and what's done is done." I use one of her favorite phrases against her, and she clicks her tongue at me in good humor.

"Pastor Miles was sayin this Sunday that it's our children that teach us. I can't say I didn't believe him." Mama smiles sadly, cupping my face. "Well come on in before you catch a chill."

I follow after her, bags in toe, and before I know it we're sipping on sweet tea. The scent of my home brings back memories of my childhood. I bask in it for a moment, wondering what I'd do without my Mama raising me by herself.

Even though I shouldn't, sometimes I think about how different my life would have turned out if Daddy stuck around.

"You good, sweetie? Want some more?" She asks, poking her head around the corner to look at me. I lean against the kitchen counter, taking a sip of my tea.

"I'm fine, Mama. Stop fussin over me." I insist, and she grins knowingly. Our banter usually consists of whining and picking at each other to our hearts' content.

After my short break, I get busy. I start fluffing pillows and picking up bills, sorting the mail into multiple piles. Mama finally shoots me a glare when I start up washing the dishes.

"My little live in maid, how did I ever get so lucky?" She wonders, tapping a finger to her chin. I laugh.

"This place is a pigsty. How long were you in the hospital for?" I ask, and she frowns at me. I let her narrow her eyes and huff and puff like a moody teenager. Sometimes I feel like I'm the parent instead of her.

"Less than a week. It was a couple days, honest. I had the neighbor water my plants, they did a damn awful job at it too." Mama looks longingly at her little potted flowers on the window sill that droop so low they touch the glass.

"Well. What did the doctors say?" I take a chance, knowing full well she'll beat around the bush about anything to do with her condition. She doesn't like to talk about cancer. The stubborn woman would rather pretend like it didn't exist.

She groans as she rummages through the refrigerator.

"I'll be fine, Hendrix. I won't let this kill me, now quit your worrying." She says slowly, waltzing into the living room with a six pack in her fingers.

I shake my head in frustration, blowing a stray hair out of my eyes. I may not be able to coax the information out of her, but I can still help her as much as possible. Help take care of her. That's why I'm here.

Following her, I collapse onto the recliner with a tired groan. It's in the middle of the night by now. With my trip here and the countless chores, I'm exhausted out of my mind.