The Dream Stitcher
Chapter 1, contd.
Maude blew out her breath. The dull ache in her head began to build. “You don’t have to be a genius to come up with the obvious. It will kill me, however. But what the hell. When I’m dead, my financial woes will be your problem. You’re welcome.”
Rosie ignored the quip, her mouth screwed up in thought.
“I’ll help you with Grandma.”
“No. I don’t expect it, and I don’t want it.”
“Babies and senior citizens do well together.”
“She needs full-time care.”
“I’ll take a shift while you’re at work. I’ll be taking care of
the baby, anyway. I can do both. That way you only have to hire someone at night if you decide you can afford it.”
“You won’t have time to paint and promote.”
“I’ll take a break. I’ve been saving up for it. And my lease is up next month. I’ll move in with you for a little bit. The money I save can be my payment. Unless, you’d rather I not move in.”
“No, no, I’d love having you and the baby here. But, it’s a lot of change. I can’t ask you to do this.”
“For God’s sake, let me do something. Learn to accept help. Anyway, I’ve always wanted to know my grandmother. Now’s my chance.”
“She was never easy to begin with, and now she’s even worse. She’s my problem to deal with, not yours.”
Rosie stood and walked to Maude. She took her mother’s hands and placed them firmly on her stomach. “You didn’t hesitate to help me. You couldn’t afford it and you did it anyway. It’s payback time.”
Maude’s eyes brimmed with tears. She pushed them back. She didn’t know how on Earth she’d adjust to having her mother in her home. Bea Wasserman, craziest of the crazies
But moving her into Maude’s home would end the five thousand dollars plus a month caregiving fees, and it might be a way to keep four generations off the streets. Maude had tried to stave off the inevitable—shame on her for wreaking havoc in the process—and now she would pay a steep price to her psyche while saving her pocketbook.
Maude felt the baby kick for the first time. The flutter surprised and delighted. Was this a good omen, or was the baby weighing in? Don’t do this! Her granddaughter’s foot shouted.
“You’ll see, Mom. It won’t be so bad,” Rosie said.
“They say that. Then they yank off the hot wax.”
The baby kicked again.