Let Go. I'll Catch You.

Riley still tried to tell himself that it wouldn't have made any difference to have her care growing up. The care he'd given himself was more than adequate.

But he fell asleep arguing with himself about the issue as a cool cloth was draped over his forehead, followed by her hand running along the nape of his neck.

The next time Riley awoke after a nap of undetermined length, it was to a turn for the worse. His stomach wasn't being squeezed in an unrelenting fist this time, but the aches and discomforts from the fever were vicious. Everything hurt. His clothing sitting on his skin hurt. His eyelashes hurt when he blinked, if that was even possible.

Riley felt like his limbs were made of lead and he wished that he'd never woken up at all.

Misery radiated from his every pore, but Riley didn't know how to ask for help. Why ask for what he knew he wouldn't get?

Fevers had always been his least favorite part of enduring sickness as a kid. The delirium made him wonder if he would ever get better or if he would die there alone on an ancient mattress in that godforsaken house. If he died, would anyone even know to come for his body? Would his father have a funeral for him or just turn his back and with a good riddance?

Usually he fell back asleep in his increasingly morbid spiral of thoughts. From experience, Riley knew it was really bad if his thoughts spiralled so deep that he reached the desperate, "I want my Mom" state. At that point, during one particularly nasty case of strep, he'd repeated that over and over, tears spilling over his cheeks and into his mouth as he lay curled up, trying to glean any comfort from hugging himself. Sleep was a mercy when it finally pulled him under.

Unwittingly, a whimper turned whine ripped from Riley's throat. The fevered pain in his lower back was intense and all-consuming.

"What's the matter Ri?" His Mom's face appeared over him, brow furrowed in worry, but her voice as soft as he'd ever heard it. Before he could answer, her hand covered his forehead again, feeling like ice against his skin. She pulled it back with a worried inhale.

"Back hurts," Riley mumbled, wriggling around to try and find a position to alleviate his pain.

He barely felt the thermometer in his ear again and before he knew it, his Mom was encouraging him to sit up.

"Come on baby," she crooned, trying to permeate his misery. "Sit up and take this. It'll help you feel better Ri." He didn't want to sit up. His back hurt too terribly for that. He was too cold to remove the blankets, the mere thought sending a shiver down his bones. And even though he hadn't thrown up in a few hours, waves of nausea still crested over him, threatening to send him heaving again.

His Mom applied an encouraging pressure to his upper back, whispering to him that she knew he felt bad and she was sorry for making him feel worse. When he was sitting up, or more accurately, curled into a ball that was vertical instead of horizontal, his Mom coaxed him to open his mouth to take the pair of pills in her palm. He eyed them cautiously, along with the bottle of ginger ale, fearful that he would swallow them only to see them a few minutes later under worse circumstances.

"This will help your fever baby. Take them for me?"

It was the absolute concern and love that shone across her face convinced him that she was only trying to help. Riley took the pills and swallowed back the nausea that came with them.

"Good job Ri, you'll feel better soon baby." She pressed a kiss to the top of his head, and Riley was too sunk into his pain to care that his hair had to be far more disgusting than it had been earlier. Clearly she didn't care. He appreciated it.

As she helped him lay back down, she put a hand on his lower back, applying pressure and rubbing back and forth. He sighed. It was the only relief he'd found from the all-encompassing pain. Riley expected it to be a brief gesture, just a momentary bit of comfort offered to him. But she kept the motion going, the pressure and rhythm easing him back into a drowsy state.

Riley was almost sad that he couldn't stay awake long enough to enjoy every moment of loving, tender care.

All in all, it was mostly a 24-hour bug. The next morning, Riley's fever had broken and his nausea was just a regrettable memory.

When Riley woke up the next morning, he was confused for a few moments until he recognized that he was still in his Mom's bed. He was sweating again, but it was because of the heat from being cocooned under a heavy duvet, not because of a fever.

Fatigue still made him feel paper-thin as Riley sat himself up. The back pain that had pushed him close to tears the night before was only a vague shadow now.

Throwing back the blanket and taking two tries to stand up, Riley sat right back down on the bed, deciding it wasn't worth trying to walk anywhere yet.

He didn't know how long he sat on the edge of the bed, somehow already feeling ready for another nap, when his Mom walked in. Riley blinked back the incoming sleep, a light grin pulling his lips up without his permission.

"Are you feeling better baby?" She again checked his forehead with her palm, this time giving a soft kiss after she withdrew her hand.

Riley nodded, soaking up the affection and wanting to remember every second of it.

"Good. You still look tired Ri. Why don't you get some more sleep?" It didn't take much convincing as she guided him to lay back down, this time putting a lighter blanket over him.

This time, as Riley's body slid toward sleep, he couldn't help but think what a fool he'd been to believe that being cared for when he was sick wouldn't make a difference.

If he was still on his own, would he have survived this? Of course. Fever and vomiting were nothing he couldn't handle. Dehydration? Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. The pain would have sucked, but he would have endured. Riley could take care of himself.

But he didn't have to.

Riley didn't have to go through it alone this time. His mom had been by his side every moment she'd known he was sick. She hadn't just taken care of the things he needed, like water and medicine to reduce his fever. She'd taken care of Riley, giving him the love and tenderness he'd only dared to dream about in the most fevered delirium before unconsciousness. She'd assuaged the needs that he didn't even know he had.

So, with his Mom at his side, again rubbing comforting circles into his lap, Riley let himself go. He stopped comparing this time to the last. Because she'd caught him, even when he hadn't asked.