Dad came home less and less.

When he did, he went straight upstairs.

Mom didn't wait up for him anymore.

She didn't cry either.

Before, every time Dad came home late, Mom would sit on the couch waiting till two in the morning.

Soon as he walked in she'd ask where he'd been, voice shaking, eyes red.

He'd get sick of it, smash a glass, call her paranoid.

Mom would crouch on the floor picking up the pieces, crying while she did it.

But now Mom didn't wait.

She went to bed on time and took her pills on time.

She made a lot of phone calls. There were papers all over the dining table.

That evening, Dad came back with his arm around Fiona.

Both their faces were flushed, like they'd been drinking.

Mom was on the couch. The tea in front of her had gone cold hours ago.

When Dad saw her, his arm stiffened around Fiona's shoulder.

He recovered fast, and even managed to sound annoyed.

"Helena, if you've got something to say, just say it. Don't make a scene in front of the kid."

I was tucked around the bend of the staircase, peeking out.

Mom didn't cry.

She didn't even stand up.

She just lifted her eyes — calm, way too calm for a woman whose husband had walked in with someone else.

She pointed at Fiona, and she started talking.

Like she was negotiating a deal.

"She gets on her knees and apologizes to me three times. And you sign over half the company. Then we're done."

The room went quiet.

Fiona went pale and grabbed Dad's arm, shrinking back.

Dad froze. Then he laughed in her face.

"Helena, are you insane?"

Mom picked up her cold tea, took a sip, and said, slowly,

"You think I'm bluffing? Don't sign. But that deal three years ago, and that contract last year. I kept every page of it."

I didn't understand what Mom was talking about.

But I saw Dad's face change.

He shoved Fiona off and walked over to Mom. His voice dropped.

"Helena. Are you threatening me?"

Mom didn't answer. She slid a folder across the coffee table.

Dad stared at it for a long time.

Then he picked up the pen and signed.

When he was done, he threw the pen on the table and pulled Fiona up the stairs.

Fiona never knelt. She never apologized.

But the shares transferred.

Mom folded the signed documents and put them in a brown envelope.

Her hands were shaking.

She coughed twice. There were a few new red specks on the tissue.

She balled it up fast and shoved it in her pocket.

Then she turned toward the staircase.

"Nina. Come on out."

I went over and threw myself into her arms.

Her body was so thin.

Holding her was like holding a bundle of bones.

Fiona didn't move out.

If anything, she was bolder than before.

After Dad signed, it was like he had something to prove.

He moved her things into the room right next to the master bedroom.

At dinner he put her at the head of the table.

Mom sat in the corner, quietly eating her little bowl of oatmeal.

That was all she could keep down anymore.

Rice was too hard to chew. Meat wouldn't go down.

She could maybe finish half a bowl, and only of that.

Fiona made braised short ribs. She set the plate right in front of me.

"Try some, Nina. Your dad said ribs are your favorite."

I picked up my bowl. I finished my oatmeal. I put down my spoon.

"I'm full."

Fiona's face dropped.

Dad slammed his hand on the table.

"Nina. Fiona made this for you. Eat it."

I shook my head.

Mom had told me, don't eat anything she didn't make.

Dad slammed the table again, louder.

"Helena! Look what you're turning this kid into."

Mom set her bowl down and said it flat.

"She's not hungry. Stop pushing her."

Dad glared at Mom, his lip twitched, and in the end he didn't say anything else.

That weekend, Fiona suggested taking me to the community pool.

She said it was hot out, the kid should have some fun.

Dad thought it was a great idea.

Mom said she was coming too.

Dad frowned. "What for? You can't even swim."

Mom ignored him. She got changed and walked out the door behind us.

At the pool, Fiona slid a floatie on me and led me to the shallow end.

Mom sat in a chair by the edge, watching.

Ten minutes in, Fiona's phone rang.

She walked to the other end of the pool to take it. Her voice went all sugary.

"Alex, when are you getting here? I'm dying out here babysitting—"

I was splashing around.

The valve on the floatie was loose.

The air was slipping out, bit by bit.

I started sinking.

Water went over my nose. I thrashed, swallowed a mouthful.

I couldn't even scream.

Fiona had her back to me, still on the phone, still laughing.

It was Mom.

Mom came flying off her chair. She didn't even kick off her shoes, just went straight into the water.

She didn't know how to swim.

She thrashed her way to me, grabbed me, lifted me up above her head.

The lifeguard came running and pulled us both out.

Mom lay on the deck and coughed up a mouthful of water, streaked with red.

Fiona came running over, hand over her mouth, eyes huge.

"Oh my God, Nina, are you okay? How did the floatie deflate? I was only on the phone for a second..."

Dad showed up a few minutes later.

He picked me up and checked me over. Once he was sure I was fine, the first thing he did was go comfort Fiona.

"Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault. The floatie was cheap."

Then he turned and looked at Mom, still on the deck, still coughing.

He didn't help her up.

He just said,

"Helena, you can't swim. What were you doing jumping in? You just made it worse."

Mom got up off the deck by herself.

Her clothes were soaked and clinging to her. You could see the outline of her ribs.

When we got home, Mom sat in the bathroom and coughed for a long time.

I crouched outside the door listening.

When she came out, I said one thing. "Mom. Thank you for today."

Mom ran her hand through my hair. She didn't answer.

Her eyes went red, but there were no tears.

After that, Mom started meeting with a lot of men in suits.

Lawyers. A notary. People from the bank.

She had me sit next to her. She wanted me to watch her sign.

Sometimes she'd take my hand and guide me, letter by letter, writing my own name.

"Nina, write it nice. You're going to need it."

"Mom is building you a road."

I did what she said, even though I couldn't read a word on those papers.

Mom's hair was falling out faster now.

There was a clump on the brush every time.

She'd ball it up and flush it down the toilet, on the sly.

She thought I didn't see.

I saw.

Dad figured out Mom was moving the assets.

He found a stack of papers under the coffee table.

His face went black and he stormed into Mom's bedroom and threw them at her.

"Helena! How much have you been doing behind my back? Are you trying to clean me out?"

He grabbed her wrist and squeezed it till the veins stood out.

Mom's wrist was thin as a twig. One twist and it would've snapped.

She didn't fight him.

She didn't cry.

She just looked up and met his eyes, cold.

"What are you worried about? This is mine and you know it. If you think you're getting cheated, go l check the receipts on what you've spent on Fiona these last few years."

His hand dropped.

He stood there, breathing hard, like a cornered animal that just got kicked where it hurts.

Then he stormed out.

The door slammed hard enough to rattle the windows.

Mom looked at the red mark on her wrist, rubbed it, and went back to her papers.

That night I climbed into Mom's bed.

Her body ran cold now. Her hands and feet were freezing.

I pulled my own little blanket over her and held onto her arm.

"Mom. Grandma's up there. She'll show you the way. Don't be scared."

Mom's whole body started shaking.

She pressed her face into the top of my head and sobbed, quietly.

That was the last time she ever cried in front of me.

After she was done, she wiped her face and said,

"Nina. Mom has maybe two months left with you. You need to remember this. Whatever Mom set aside for you, no one gets to take it. Not even Dad."

I nodded.

Two months.

I counted on my fingers.

That's still a long time.

The school had a music recital at the end of the term.

I'd been picked to play piano.

The teacher said parents should come.

I came home and told Mom.

Her eyes lit up. I hadn't seen that look on her in a long time.

"Okay. Mom will be there. I promise."

Then I went and told Dad.

Dad grunted without looking up. He was on his phone.

"Got it. We'll see."

The day of the recital, Mom put on a pale blue dress.

She'd done her makeup, trying to cover how sick she looked.

But you couldn't cover how thin she was.

The dress just hung on her, like it was on a hanger.

She was already short of breath when she walked.

From the parking lot to the auditorium, she had to stop three times.

I held onto her arm and we sat in the very back row.

"Mom. Is Dad coming?"

Mom looked at her phone. She didn't answer me.

When I went on stage, I scanned the audience.

Mom was in the back, smiling, waving at me.

The seat next to her was empty.

I played Für Elise. I played it clean and didn't miss a note.

The audience clapped.

When I bowed, I saw Mom wiping her eyes.

After it ended I ran offstage to find her.

She wasn't in her seat.

I found her by the auditorium door.

She was leaning against the wall, bent over, coughing hard.

There were a few dark red drops on the floor.

"Mom."

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and smiled at me.

"Nina, that was beautiful. I got the whole thing on video."

She held up her phone. There I was on the screen, playing.

The picture jumped around the whole time.

Because her hands had been shaking the whole time.

Then her eyes rolled back, and she pitched forward.

I screamed and lunged for her, but I was too small. I couldn't catch her.

She hit the floor, and her face caught the edge of a step. Her forehead split open.

Teachers and parents came rushing over.

Someone called 911.

I knelt next to Mom, wiping the blood off her forehead with my sleeve.

Crying the whole time.

"Mom, get up. Mom, don't scare me —"

I took Mom's phone and called Dad.

It rang for a long time. Finally he picked up.

It was loud on the other end.

Someone was playing guitar. People were singing.

Fiona's laugh was closest to the phone.

"Daddy. Mommy's bleeding. Mommy fell down. You have to come!"

（付费点）