Chlorine Halos

Binary Double Dutch

My eyes opened slowly, taking in the morning light which streamed through several square panes of a window. High thread count sheets wrapped around my raw skin while the down of a pillow gently cradled my heavy head. Soft fingers warmed my hand. Asleep in a recliner at my bedside, my mother insisted on the contact, regardless of the cramped position it required. In her other hand, she held a pink ceramic mug. A tea bag tag hung over the rim. I exhaled with relief. My rescue wasn't imagined. She saved me. My mother saved me.

A sharp snore by the doorway pierced the silence. Next to an armoire, sprawled out with a leg over the arm of a rocking chair, Oz slept soundly as his dreaming eyes fluttered. Crumpled paper wrappers, spotted with grease and melted corners of cheese slices, surrounded the arched feet of the chair. As the image brought a smile to my face, a ray of sunlight guided my focus to the yellow rubber duck in his hand.

Restlessness crept over my body, begging me to sit up. My feeble attempt woke my mother. Her sudden stirring inadvertently woke Oz.

"Sweetheart?" she asked in a gentle breath as her relieved emotions bubbled over. Oz, on the other side of the bed, sat next to me, leaning on one of the four posts which held the canopy above. My mother's arms tightened around me, sending a twinge of pain down my back. A wince and groan were unavoidable. "Ah, I'm so sorry," she said sweetly, immediately releasing an embrace I truly missed. Caving to her maternal instincts, she shot to her feet and began fluffing the pillows behind me.

Oz placed his hand on my arm, desperately clinging to his tears. "Avian?" he asked, trying to steady his voice.

"Yeah, buddy?" My response pried out two tears which fell to his cheeks.

"Really? Do you mean that?" he asked with a sniffle.

"Oz, you're my best friend," I replied, reaching over and squeezing his arm. "You'll never not be." He lowered his head.

"My parents..." he began, unable to finish the sentence. More tears began to drown him in shame.

"I know. I couldn't believe it either," I said, throwing a buoy into his wallowing.

"I am so sorry for everything I said..." Once again, his thought trailed off, but he pushed forward with a new one. "I hate myself for leaving you like that, for pushing you away. You really needed me and I... I just didn't—"

"Who says I don't need you now," I softly interrupted. As he allowed himself a smile, my mother, still rustling bedding and blankets, stopped for a moment and ran her fingers through my hair.

"Are you comfortable?" she asked with a quick concern. "Can I get you something to eat? Something to drink?"

"Mom." I paused, trying to shake the disbelief I could use that word. "Mom, I thought I lost you." She sat down and pressed her lips against my forehead.

"That's why I had to find you," she replied.

"And Dad?" I asked, not thinking about the weight of the question. Her smile melted from her face. Tears of relieved joy were replaced by tears of cold sorrow.

"Avian, he tried..." She couldn't swallow the sadness caught in her throat. Her reaction gave me enough of an answer.

"Oh, Mom, I shouldn't have said anything," I said apologetically. I tried to slide closer to console her, but the screaming ache in my side halted the motion and forced a moan. My mother hurried to my aid, helping me lie back as Oz stacked pillows behind me. The soft white noise from her whispered shush dampened the throb.

"Sweetheart, you've got to relax," she instructed. "Your body needs to heal." She walked around the bed and to the doorway. "Now, I'll be right back. I'm sure Ruth is already cooking breakfast. Her 'Farmboy Special'  will put some meat on those bones of yours."