Frosty Wind Made Moan

22

22

In the cold of the night, away from the crowded A&E department, Toby's Mum allowed herself to slump. The other nurse wrapped an arm around her shoulder and they sat in silence on a bench dappled with day old rain. Toby couldn't imagine how difficult it must be to work on Christmas Eve in such a place like this, where the nurses and doctors saw nothing but pain and misery.

Christmas Eve wasn't about that for Toby, and millions of other children around the world. For him, and them, it was a night of anticipation. A night of wonder and magic. Though Toby had experienced far more magic than most, every, other child would ever experience. Real magic, that is, if this wasn't a dream after all. He still couldn't tell. It felt so real.

And, seeing the the look in his Mum's eyes, it felt more real than ever. Within the hospital, she had kept her face set in as close to a smile as she could muster, giving care and attention to everyone, no matter what their ailment, or their attitude. But, here, away from all that, she allowed that smile to fall away, revealing only a deep, saddening fatigue.

"I'm having a cigarette. Sorry." The other nurse reached into her coat pocket, pulling out a pack and a lighter. "I know. I know. Filthy habit and all that, but I'm quitting from New Year's Day and after tonight, I need it."

"Can I have one?" Toby's Mum looked at the pack as the nurse opened it, taking a slim tube from within. "It's been a hell of a night, Angie."

The other nurse mirrored Toby's shock. He had never seen his Mum look this tired and he had never, ever, known her to smoke. The old man had sat beside the other nurse, Angie, looking down at the packet, shaking his head and Toby almost comically copied that shake. He stayed close to the old man, even though he wanted to sit beside his Mum and rest his head on her arm.

"You don't smoke." Fingers tapped the cigarette packet as Angie considered giving Toby's Mum a cigarette. "Trust me, you don't want to start, do you?"

"Ah. No. No, I don't." Toby's Mum leaned forward, catching her face in her hands, then brushing her hair back over her ears. "You're right. Besides, I don't want Toby to smell it on me."

With a smile, Angie tapped the packet closed, returning it to her pocket, and then lit her own cigarette. She blew the smoke to the other side, into the old man's face, but she had no way of knowing what she had done. Toby wafted the smoke away, coughing, though he didn't need to, and made a face as though he were about to be sick.

"Don't worry. It's, what? Just gone ten?" Angie opened up her coat, checking a watch attached to her uniform before closing the coat tight once more. "Another hour and your shift is done, you'll be back home, telling him to get to sleep before Santa arrives and then you'll have all day together. Away from this place, at least."

"He doesn't believe in Santa. Not anymore. I miss that." She crossed her arms and her legs, hugging the chill away, the lights of ambulances flashing colours across her face. "He's at that age, but I think, mostly, it's because I didn't get him what he wanted last year. What with everything that happened to Andy, having to lend him money to survive, I just couldn't afford it. Or this year."

Toby saw tears pricking in his Mum's eyes. She tried so hard to be strong around him, seeing her allowing herself to cry felt strange and wrong, but, as he had told Leopold, it's okay to cry. He wished he could tell his Mum that, and to tell her that it was alright. That he no longer cared about that stupid bike, or the games console. He didn't need them.

For certain, he still wanted that console, but he knew the difference, now. The huge difference between wanting something and needing it. He needed his Dad to get well. He needed his Mum to be happy. He didn't need the console. As soon as he got to see his Mum away from the old man's protective, hiding circle, he would tell her that. And tell her how much he loved her.