Most of All You: A Love Story
Mia Sheridan
This book is dedicated to Danita,
who has her own angel Gabriel.
And to those everywhere who have
been given up on.
PROLOGUE
ELLIE
I didn’t want to go. “Please, Mama, can we go tomorrow?”
My mama didn’t answer for a minute, pushing her blonde hair away from her face and wiping at the sweat that dotted her forehead and upper lip. Her cheeks were bright red with fever again, and her green eyes looked dull and shiny at the same time, like the surface of the puddles in the parking lot at our apartment complex after it rained. “We have to go, Ellie. I feel well enough today, and I don’t know if I will tomorrow.”
Mama didn’t look like she felt well. She looked worse than I’d seen her in weeks. Even worse than the day she’d found the paper stuck to our door and cried and then got back into bed for three days. It scared me how sick she looked, and I didn’t know what to do.
I used to knock on Mrs. Hollyfield’s door and ask for help when she still lived in our building. She would come over with chicken soup and sometimes a box of Popsicles, and she’d talk to my mama in a quiet, soothing voice while I watched cartoons. I always felt better after Mrs. Hollyfield left, and it seemed like Mama did, too. But Mrs. Hollyfield didn’t live at our apartment complex anymore. Something called a blood clot had happened to Mrs. Hollyfield, and they took her away on a white stretcher.
After that, some younger people who I’d never seen before came and cleaned her apartment out. When I heard them arguing about who was going to pay her funeral costs, I knew she was dead. My mama cried and cried and kept saying, “What am I gonna do now? Oh, Lord God, what am I gonna do now?” But I didn’t cry, even though I wanted to, because once, when my mama was at the doctor’s, Mrs. Hollyfield told me that when you die, you fly away to heaven just like a bird. She said that heaven is the most glorious place any person could ever imagine, with gold-paved streets and flowers in colors that didn’t even exist here on earth. So I tried to be happy for Mrs. Hollyfield even though I was going to miss her hugs, her laughter, the red Popsicles that were my favorite, and the way she made my mama smile.
“Pick up your feet, Ellie. I can’t drag you.” I walked quicker, trying to keep up with Mama. She was walking fast, and I almost had to run to stay at her side. “We’re getting close to your daddy’s house.”
I swallowed heavily, a dizzy feeling in my head. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to meet my daddy or not, but I was curious. I wondered what he looked like—if he was handsome like the soap opera actors Mama watched. She seemed to like them a whole lot, so I knew that was the sort of man she would have picked to be my daddy. I pictured him in a suit with thick, wavy hair and big straight teeth. I hoped he would think I was pretty despite my ragged clothes. I hoped he would like me even though he’d left us before I was even born.
We got to a small house with peeling paint and a shutter that was hanging crooked, and when my mama stopped in front of it, she squeezed my hand. “Lord, please give me strength. I have no choice, I have no choice,” my mama murmured before she turned and kneeled down in front of me. “Here we are, baby.” Her eyes were watery, her lips were shaking, and I was alarmed at how sick she looked. But she smiled so sweetly and looked right in my eyes. “Ellie, sweetness, you know I love you, right?”
“Yes, Mama.”
She nodded. “I didn’t do a lot of good in this world, baby. But one thing I did perfectly was you. You’re such a good, smart girl, Ellie. You don’t forget that, okay? No matter what, you don’t forget that.”
“Okay, Mama,” I whispered. I felt even more scared, and I didn’t know why. My mama stood and then adjusted my sweater with the missing buttons and unraveling hem. She frowned at my shoes, her eyes staying on the hole in my toe for a few more seconds before she straightened up, taking my hand and leading me toward the door of the ugly little house.
Mama knocked, and I heard a man shouting on the other side of the door. He sounded angry, and his voice scared me. I pressed myself into my mama’s side. She put her arm around me and we waited. Mama felt so hot, and now her whole body was shaking. She leaned into me, and I worried we both might topple over. I knew she needed a doctor, but she’d stopped going to the doctor months ago even though she didn’t seem to be getting any better. Weren’t doctors supposed to make you better?
After a minute, the door opened, and a tall man stood in front of us with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. My mama gasped. I peeked up at him, and he stared down at my mama and me. “Yeah?”
My mama ran her hand over my hair. “Hi, Brad.”
The man was quiet as he sucked on his cigarette, and then his eyes widened and he finally said, “Cynthia?”
I felt my mama relax, and I looked up at her. She had a big smile on her face. The one she used when she was trying to convince Mrs. Gadero to let us pay our rent late. I took another peek at Brad, my daddy. He was tall like the soap opera actors, but that was the only thing they had in common. His hair was long and sorta greasy looking, and his teeth were yellow and crooked. But we had the same blue eyes and the same color hair—golden brown, my mama called it.
“Well, I’ll be damned. What are you doing here?”