Page 32 of Diamonds in the Mud

in our own intrinsic humanity,

like a diamond in a mine.”

–Juan Ramon Jimenez

Rayne

The moment I stepped foot into the house I’d grown up in, I knew there was trouble. Normally, there would be warm smells of food or baked goods to greet me at the door.

The Cordova home sat on five acres of grassland surrounded by large oak and pecan trees, many of which I’d spent my youth trying to climb. Even though the place was smaller than the other homes on the street, with three bedrooms, two baths, and an office off the back porch area, it still felt huge to me.

“Mom?” I called out.

“Back here,” Edith Cordova answered from the back of the home.

Shortly after I’d moved out, Randy had turned the covered porch into a sunroom of sorts by closing in the three walls. Now, Edith spent most of her days enjoying the sunny views of their backyard.

The Cordovas were the only parents I could remember having. They were my folks, yet for some reason, I had a difficult time calling them or thinking about them by anything but their names. It was as if my brain was broken. The pair of them had been so patient with me when I was growing up and called them by their first names instead of Mom and Dad. Most of the time it didn’t bother them. At least they didn’t show it.

As an adult, I noticed that when I did force the words, it made them so much happier. So I tried my hardest to show my appreciation in that small way.

I walked through the formal living area and down the long hall that passed the kitchen and dining room, and then stepped out onto what used to be our back porch. Now, the room was so much cozier. Oak French doors opened into the space. The entire back wall was floor-to-ceiling windows that Edith currently had propped open, letting in the warm breeze.

There was an old, oversized sofa, a small television set, a bookcase that was overflowing, and Randy’s old plaid chair in the space.

When I saw Edith, I had to hold in a gasp.

“Is it that bad?” Edith said with a sigh as she sat up. She’d been lounging on the sofa and, from the looks of it, I’d woken her.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I said, ignoring her question.

She ran her hands over her once thick and shiny hair. Now, massive patches were missing and the silver-gray had turned to a dirty gray color.

“You didn’t,” she answered. “I had hoped to make you some cookies or some of my crumb cake you like so much. But I suppose I lost track of time.”

“It’s okay.” I sat next to her and pulled her into my arms. When had she gotten so fragile? Breast cancer was stealing the only woman I loved right in front of my eyes.

“We can head into town?” I suggested suddenly. “Grab a coffee and treat at Creole’s?” I added.

Creole Coffee Company was one of Edith’s favorite places to go.

“I don’t know,” she answered with a sigh. “I just don’t feel like being seen right now.”

I reached up and touched her face, noting that it was puffy and slightly odd-colored. The chemo was doing a trick on her. Still, she was here. She was still fighting.

“Mom,” I sighed. “Let me take you to Aria.” Edith closed her eyes as a tear slipped down her cheek. “She has these wigs…” I started.

Edith’s eyes flew open. “I don’t want to wear a goddamned wig.” Then she sighed. “Sorry, sweetie. It’s just…”

“I know. You don’t have to apologize to me.” I hugged her again.

“No, I suppose I don’t.”

I felt like the world was ending as I held her and she cried for a few moments.

“Okay, fuck it.” She leaned back. “I’m so over feeling sorry for myself.” She straightened her shoulders. “Enough tears.” She nodded once as she wiped her face. “It’s past time I did this.” She reached up and I watched her eyes turn sad as she touched her hair. “Call Aria. See if she can fit me in. She glanced down at the gray sweats she was wearing. “I’ll go put on something more appropriate.”

I smiled and nodded and pulled out my phone as she walked out of the room.