You were my last shot at redemption, the one chance I had of maybe forgiving myself for all the mistakes. Now you lay here dying, and that is probably my fault as well...almost certainly my fault, though I have no idea why.

That's not true . I know why it might be. The doctors tell me that couldn't cause it, but I don't know. A lack of antibodies when you were a baby is what I think did it, even if the doctors say no. A newborn baby needs those antibodies from a mother's milk. I couldn't nurse you because my milk wouldn't come in right. Maybe it was always sour. That might be why the others all had such sour dispositions, that brother and those two mean sisters of yours, who don't even care enough to come and see you. You lay here dying from a disease that no twelve year old should ever have to suffer, and they just don't care. That has to be my fault too, bad milk or otherwise, the way they turned out.

Right now, I’m just glad that you're sleeping for a while with your face looking all peaceful. That's something I don't see much of anymore. Tonight, after you got your drugs, I sponged you off with warm water. You even smiled a little bit as you were drifting away from me into blessed relief. Blessed for you, and for me just to see your pain relieved for a while. You don't deserve this.

You don't, but I do. How did I make such a mess of things, anyway? I don't even know. Or maybe I do. Whenever I look back I can see so many things. Little things, mostly. Doesn’t every parent make mistakes, though? Were mine so bad?

You’re breathing is steadier now and less ragged, and I know that if I want to smoke I’d better do it now. Stupid habit. I smoked around you when you were a baby, that’s one mistake I made. That’s one reason why you’re sick, I think. When you were diagnosed I swore I would never touch another cigarette, but that didn’t last. Just weakness on my part. But sometimes they seem to calm me down a little, so on my way to the back porch I grab the pack and a lighter. I smoke generics now, no more Winstons. It doesn’t matter, they all taste like dirt anyway. I shouldn’t complain. The treatment you’re getting makes everything taste bad. You can’t even have the pleasure of tasting something enjoyable, not even that one little good thing.

Going out the back door, I stumble over that warped threshold that I forget about when I’m tired. I should phrase that different, I guess. I’m always tired. But when I’m foot dragging tired I forget about it. It would be nice to have a man around to help with things like that but I guess I’ll get to it myself, eventually.

I light the cigarette and take a big drag while I think about that, about having a man around the house to help. Your daddy was sure no help. He never helped anyone except himself. I remember that time I asked him to fix the back step. He walked out to the shed and walked right back in carrying a hammer. Told me to put my hand on the counter but I didn’t. I was scared. Then he said it again in a way that I knew I better. I put it up there, but Lord I was scared. Then he said “Do I need to show you how to use a hammer?” All I could do was say no, no, I know how to use it. He didn’t hit me with it, but I know he could have. And when I think about that I know why the older ones are so mean. I should have gotten them away from him. I was just too scared…scared of him and scared of being without him and having three kids to feed. I didn’t have any skills to make a living, and no smarts, either. He made sure I knew that. Told me constantly how stupid I was and how I could never make it without him. I don’t know if he was right or not but he sure convinced me, so I guess I couldn’t have been too smart.

I’m starting to feel a little bit dizzy, and one look at the cigarette tells me why. The cherry must be close to an inch long, ’cause I’ve been puffing it like it’s the last one I’ll ever have. Damn these things. I stub it out.

That’s the biggest mistake I made, staying with him. Those older kids probably never had a chance. You get raised by someone that mean and you’re bound to turn out mean yourself, I guess. I light another cigarette, even though I just put the other one out.

I should have gotten rid of him long ago. He tortured those kids. Not real torture, but he made their lives miserable. Yelling at them all the time, all the time, for no reason mostly. He whipped them for no good reason, too.  And hard, so hard. He wouldn’t get away with it these days. Someone would turn him in. Of course, they would probably have taken them away from me. I couldn’t bear that thought back then. Now, I know they would have been better off without me. But I couldn’t bear that thought back then. The only thing I was doing with my life was trying to be a mother, but in the end I failed at that anyway. It would’ve been better to just let someone else have them, and accept my failure.

It’s my neighbor, Jeff, and I see Doreen standing next to him. It’s only then that I realize I’ve been crying, and loud, I guess.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks for asking. Sorry about the noise.”

“You don’t have to apologize. Is she having a bad night?”

“No, she’s sleeping right now. It’s always better when she can really sleep, you know?”

“Why don’t you let me come over and sit with her, tonight. You need some rest.”

“Thank you, Doreen. But I’m okay. Sorry about the noise.”

“For heaven’s sake, I don’t care about the noise.”

“We’re happy to help,” Jeff said. “Anything you need, Josie.”

I couldn’t ask for nicer neighbors. Whenever I have to get out to go to the store, or whatever, Doreen always sits with you. I know she treats you good and I don’t have to worry about that, but I don’t want to go to the well too often. I can’t afford for it to run dry. There’s no one else to help out now.

Besides, I don’t want to be away from you. Every time I leave the house I’m scared to death that you’ll pass before I get back. Or that you’ll wake up and want me, and me not be there.

I tried to be there for those other kids, I really did. But by the time they were your age they didn’t want me anymore. They didn’t want their daddy either, they just wanted out. And as soon as they were old enough to find a way, out was what they got. They’ve hardly so much as looked back since. I can’t blame them, and truth is I didn’t much care when they left. At least it meant they would leave you in peace. I can’t help but think about when I bought you your first bicycle. I had to save and save. You loved that thing. But it was gone in three days and I still think they did something with it. It’s hard sometimes to blame them because it was easy to see that I favored you, although I never meant to. But the truth is that they never got bicycles or much of anything else so I can understand why they were jealous of you. Or maybe you were just an easy target because you were younger. Just like their daddy, they always knew how to cull the weak ones from the herd.

Thinking about them makes me want another cigarette. When I strike the lighter, I feel like I see their face in the flame. I see all three of them and their daddy, too. It looks like they’re laughing at me, thinking I finally got what I deserve. I guess I don’t blame them for that, but why do they have to take it out on you?

I really do think they were already lost when I found out about you. Just as quick as I learned I was pregnant, I dumped him. Finally, I got rid of him. I know I still had hopes of turning the other ones around, too. But I admit it was more about you. I got the house and some support, and found a job. I worked for nothin’, near about. We got by, but your brother and sisters ran wild without anyone here to keep ’em in line. It didn’t matter. The youngest one was 12 when you were born, and it was too damn late. At least when they left home they weren’t here to bother you anymore.

Now the house is mortgaged again. That doesn’t matter, though, as long as the money holds out to the end. Your end, Lord help me.

I was so determined to do better by you. You were going to be the one decent thing I could give to the world, the only thing I could leave behind that would make the world a better place. My salvation. I hope you never knew that. It would be wrong to put that kind of pressure on a child. There’s no way you could have known. But if you did, I can tell you that you would have lived up to it. You’re that good…always were.

I realize that you are calling my name, and I drop the smoke in the ashtray. The drugs shouldn’t have worn off that quickly. How many times did you call before I heard you?

Running in the door, I trip over that threshhold and go flying, face down on the floor. I get my right arm out to catch myself some, but it hurts like crazy.