It’s late and dark when I drive home after my make-up exam. Who am I kidding? It’s always dark now that Noah’s gone. I sent my mother a text about making sure that the chickens and goats are in the barn, but who knows if she’s done it. Farm work remains a battle between us.
Sigh. Just another way I miss Noah. He would pick up the slack when I got busy. Bert, the man he hired, is doing a great job, but he only comes on weekends. I wish he came every day.
I don’t understand it. I used to have so much energy, but these days I can barely drag myself out of bed.
When I get home, I can’t find my mother. Her car is here, but she’s not anywhere in the house. I change and go out to the barn to make sure all the animals are in. I don’t see them outside, so I assume that they’re okay.
When I open the barn door, I see my mother collapsed on the floor.
Oh my God. Is she…?
“Mom,” I scream, but there’s no response. I run over and touch her face. She’s breathing, thank heaven. She doesn’t appear to have any injuries, but I shouldn’t move her. I put a blanket over her, put a towel under her head, and call 911.
“911. What’s your emergency?”
“It’s my mother. I came home and found her collapsed on the floor. She’s unconscious.”
The dispatcher says she’ll send an ambulance immediately. She urges me to keep calm and asks questions about my mom’s age and health.
“She’s 46. She’s in good health.” Is she though? Should I tell them about the depression she went through after Dad died? But she’s over that now, and people don’t collapse from depression, do they? My mind jumps around.
“She was depressed after my dad died,” I blurt. “But now she’s fine.”
I stroke her golden hair. I wish Noah was here. He’d know what to do. Or at least he’d calm me down.
Be okay. Be okay. Be okay. The words form a rhythm in my mind. Because I know that I have not been nice to my mother for a long time. It started when she got depressed and I had to do all the housework. Now we fight about selling the farm. And I never gave Carl a chance.
At least you have a mother, Noah had said. What he must have meant was why was I working so hard to preserve my father’s farm when my living parent didn’t want it.
Finally I hear the faint wail of a siren. I run out to get the paramedics.
They ask me about her health as they quickly assess her and then move her onto a stretcher.
The woman paramedic pats my arm. “We still have to determine what happened, but her pulse and blood pressure seem normal, and there are no indications of a head injury. Why don’t you get her identification and health information and come with us?”
“She has health insurance,” I say, in case they’ll treat her better that way.
I get everything together and get into the ambulance. They don’t have the siren on, which I take as a good sign. On the way, I message the news to Derek. The ambulance is going to the University hospital, so he can get there easily.
The hospital feels like a lot of hurry up and wait. As I’m going through the paperwork, Derek rushes into the emergency waiting room. He looks serious and worried—the complete opposite of his normal demeanor.
“How is she?” he asks.
“I don’t know yet.”
We end up sitting on hard plastic seats. My mind is still racing.
“Oh my God, I don’t even know if the animals are in,” I wail.
Derek pats my hand. “Don’t worry. It’s all taken care of.”
“How?”
“I was with the guys when I got your message. Noah offered to take care of the farm. He’s driving out with Wags. They’ll bring back your car so you can get home tonight, unless you want to stay with me.”
I shake my head. “Let’s wait. Maybe Mom will be able to come home too.”
Half an hour later, a doctor comes out to talk to us.
“Your mother is awake now, and we had a chat. It sounds like she’s suffering from exhaustion, but we’ll run some more tests in the morning.” He smiles at us. “You’ll have to take good care of her when she gets out of here.”
I know he’s trying to be friendly and well-meaning, but every word he says is a stab into my body. I’m the magician’s assistant in a sword trick gone wrong.
I’m the reason she’s exhausted. I insisted we keep the farm each time she raised the subject of selling. I asked her to go into the barn—a place she associates with my father’s stroke—because I’m too pig-headed to show her any sensitivity.
I barely hear another word he says. Derek pokes me.
“Zoe, he says we can go in and see Mom.”
I shake my head. “I can’t face her. It’s all my fault.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I asked her to put the animals in the barn because I had a make-up exam. You know she hates the barn.” And now I know exactly how she feels. Seeing my mother lying on the floor of the barn was the worst moment of my life.
Derek shakes his head. “Stop being such a drama queen. It’s not always about you. Mom’s been in the barn lots of times.” He hesitates, and I sense something big is coming. Derek doesn’t like conflict, but he’s honest too. “But this wouldn’t have happened if she wasn’t still living on the farm.”
Which is my responsibility. “I’m doing most of the chores. She hardly has to do any extra work.”
My usual chill brother keeps getting angrier. “You’re not better than mom or me just because you work on the farm. The fact that we want to live our lives doesn’t mean we miss Dad less.”
“I’ve never said a word to you,” I protest.
“Yeah, but you act like I’m not doing my share. I’m twenty and if I want to party on weekends and sleep in, why shouldn’t I? You’re the one who needs to loosen up and have some fun.”
A nurse interrupts our argument. “If you want to see your mother, you don’t have long. She’ll be going to sleep soon.”
So we go into her room. Mom looks older in the hospital gown with a tube attached.
Derek walks over and hugs her in a completely natural way that I’ll never be able to mimic. When it’s my turn, my mother raises a hand and strokes my cheek. I clutch at her hand, but now I feel even worse.
“How are you doing?” I ask.
“I’ve been better.” She blinks at us. I’m pretty sure she’s on painkillers and not fully aware of what’s going on.
“You need to rest,” Derek says. “Don’t worry about anything. We’ll stay until you fall asleep and then come back in the morning.”
She nods and closes her eyes. Within ten minutes, she’s fast asleep.
It’s awkward between Derek and me as we leave my mother’s hospital room. All those things he said to me have probably been on his mind for a while.
He pulls out his phone. “Wags brought your car here. It’s at the hockey house.”
We walk across the campus in silence. We’re both exhausted, physically and emotionally.
“Are you okay to drive home?” he asks.
“Yeah.” Ordinarily, I’d take charge now, but I feel slapped down. “When do you think we should visit her tomorrow?”
“The doctor said she’d be having tests, so maybe after lunch? I’ve got morning classes, so I’ll go after that.”
“Okay. I’ll check my schedule, but I’ll probably spend the evening with her.” I’ll have to manage the farm work too, but I’m not going to mention it now that I know how he feels.
The drive home feels almost peaceful as my headlights pick out a few specks of snow on the quiet highway. Going back to the farm usually feels good, but now there’s a strange hollowness. Things have changed so much from when I was a kid, and the farm meant the pleasures of raising chicks, fishing in the pond, or eating a carrot just pulled from the ground. When did the farm I love become a heavy responsibility… and a battleground?
When I pull into the driveway, Noah’s car is still here.
I walk into the house, and he’s snoozing on the couch. As soon as he hears me, he sits up.
He blinks at me. “How’s your mom doing?” His familiar voice breaks something hard and cold inside me, but I’m wary. I make a big show of taking off my coat and boots while I try to figure out how to handle this.
“She’s doing well. They think her collapse may be due to exhaustion or low blood sugar rather than anything more serious.”
“That’s good news.” He stands and moves towards me, but I back away.
“I’m going to make some cocoa.” I flee into the kitchen, but Noah follows me. He sits down at the table, and I’m hyperaware of him watching me.
“How are you?” he asks.
“Not great,” I admit.
“Would you like to talk about it?”
“Why are you being so nice? We’re not even going out anymore,” I say.
“I still care about you, Zoe.”
What does that even mean? He cares about me like a friend, right? Because however much I want to be back with him, it can never be. Derek showed me tonight how unworthy I am. And Noah needs to know that.
“It’s my fault that my mother’s in the hospital,” I say. “And not only because of tonight, but because I’ve been fighting her about selling the farm.”
Noah rises and stands beside me. He tries to put his arm around me, but I shrug him off.
“That’s not true,” he says. “You want to keep the farm because it reminds you of your dad. It’s not about fighting your mom.”
I put the milk and pan on the counter and wrap my arms around myself. I steel myself to tell the whole truth.
“It is. I’ve never told anyone this, but—” I take a deep breath. That abyss is back and I’m afraid of falling into it. But I can’t keep my secrets anymore. “When my dad had his stroke, he couldn’t walk. And his thinking was… kind of cloudy. But parts of him were still the same. He hated his care facility. He wanted to come back to the farm… to come home.”
Because who wouldn’t want to come home? To sit among the familiar old rooms and experience the sounds and smells of the farm. It’s what I would want too, anyone would. Just telling Noah this is like ripping open the biggest wound in my life, but I keep going. Because I’m strong; my dad always said so.
“My mother said no. She said the farmhouse wasn’t suitable for a wheelchair because of the stairs and the upstairs bathroom. That my father needed full-time care and he was better off there.”
Noah doesn’t say a word. His handsome face is emotionless, and that’s good because if he shows pity or disgust, I will not be able to finish my confession.
“I wanted to look after him, but she said I couldn’t quit college. I begged but all she said was ‘Zoe, I’m too tired. I need a break sometimes.’”
I shake my head. I’m still angry when I remember her dismissals. “And whenever I visited him, I knew! I knew he wanted to come home. He only lived three more months, and they could have been happy, instead of living in a sterile institution surrounded by strangers… with no view of the land he loved.”
Now, I can’t cry even when I think about that vague look in my father’s eyes. How he searched for something that he could never find.
“He did so much for me. And I couldn’t do this one thing for him.” My voice breaks as guilt surges up in me. I should have fought harder. I should have found a way to bring him home. I can’t forgive myself for failing him.
Noah pulls a bottle of water from his pack and hands it to me. I uncap it and gulp water down. Then, I continue, “The truth is that I’ve resented my mother ever since. I’ve fought her on everything. So if she’s in the hospital, it’s my fault as surely as if I injured her myself.”
I look over at Noah and his face is still unreadable.
“What do you think of me now?” I demand.
“I think you’ve had a really tough day and you’re emotionally overwrought.”
He’s not answering my question, but he must be disgusted. I’ve shown him who I am—someone motivated by anger and resentment. “How can you not hate me? I hate myself.”
“Zoe. Why are you so hard on yourself?” he asks. “Even if everything you’ve told me is true, nothing has come from selfishness. You loved your dad, and you wanted to help him.”
“But look what I’ve done. My mother is exhausted from fighting with me. My dad would be horrified.” How can I even pretend I’m honoring him when he always put my mother first? He treasured my mother and cared for her.
“Stop making this about you,” he says, words I’m hearing for the second time tonight. “You’re exhausted and hungry. Things will look better in the morning. And don’t worry, I’ll take care of the morning chores.”
I am exhausted, physically and mentally. I’ve been balancing too many balls, and now that they’ve all crashed, I can’t even respond to his kindness.
“Can I make you a snack?” he asks.
I shake my head. He nods and pulls on his coat. As he heads to the door, I feel like all the light is leaving the room.
I blurt, “I did what you said. Talk to a professional, I mean.” I want him to know I’ve tried, but I don’t add that it hasn’t helped.
Noah turns and seems to consider this. “Did you tell your therapist everything you just told me?”
I shake my head.
He doesn’t say anything else, but I hear him loud and clear. How can I get better if I’m not honest with Lorraine?