Prompt: From Lie to Me, when Tattles mum dies and he doesn't want to see her like that ^^
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“William,” my dad said, his voice silent. “I’m going to the hospital now.”
“Okay,” I said, not getting off of my bed. There was a deflated balloon in the corner of my room, telling me happy birthday. My gifts were sitting on my desk, barely touched.
“You should come,” he said, nervously tapping his pocket. “She, uh…she wants to see you. She really wants to see you.”
I closed my eyes, my body trembling lightly. I didn’t want to see her. I didn’t want to see my mom. I didn’t want to see that sick woman lying in bed. I didn’t want to remember her like that.
“William, please,” dad said, his voice strained. “I know you hate seeing her like that. But…she doesn’t have a lot of time left. And she wants to see you.” I could tell how much it hurt him to say that.
I stood up and went over to him. He placed a hand on my shoulder and walked out of the house with me, both of us climbing into the car. Dad had been working extra hours to pay for mom’s hospital bills, and every moment that he didn’t work he spent with her.
He drove, both us sitting in silence. We didn’t know what to say to each other anymore, because we both knew she’d be gone within the next few days. The doctor had given her a week to live the day before by birthday. That had been nine days ago, and my mom clung to life desperately, reluctant to leave her husband and son.
Dad pulled into the parking lot of the hospital. I stared at the dashboard, not taking my seatbelt off. I didn’t want to go in there.
“William,” dad said gently. “Let her see you. She’s in so much pain. Ease it for it. She needs to see you. She loves you so much. She just wants to see you and hold your hand. I know it’s hard, believe me I know. But she’s been brave about her cancer for years just for you and me. Now it’s our turn to be brave for her.”
I knew he was right, but I was still scared to see her. Still, I forced myself to get out of the car.
We walked into the hospital and I followed my dad, keeping my eyes on my shoes. I didn’t want to see the people walking around here. People pacing as they waited to hear bad news. People sitting in waiting rooms wondering if they’d ever see their loved ones again.
Dad put his hand on my back as we stood outside of mom’s room. The whole place smelled like hand sanitizer, and it made me sick to my stomach. I looked at the door, too afraid to reach out and grip the handle. I knew what laid just inside of that room. A shadow of the beautiful woman my mother had been.
Dad swallowed hard and reached out, gripping the handle. He looked down at me, and tried to pull up a brave face, giving me a shaky smile.
“William, this could…this could it.” He wet his lips. “I talked to the doctor and…this could be all we get with her. Make it count.” He hugged me tightly. “I love you, and she loves you, and I know you love her. Make it count.”
My whole body shook, and I wanted to run away. I didn’t want to go in there. I didn’t want to see her. I hated myself for those thoughts, but they kept screaming their way through my mind, my body, pumping through my veins. I didn’t want to see her. I wanted to remember her the way she’d been before she got sick. I didn’t want to go say goodbye to the skeleton dying on the bed in that room. I wanted to keep her healthy in my mind. I didn’t want to remember her like this. I just wanted to be anywhere but in this hospital.
The door swung open and the only thing holding me up anymore was my dad. He led me into the room, and I kept my eyes on my feet again. I didn’t want to look at her.
“William?”
The voice was horribly weak, so thin I was surprised I even heard it. I squeezed my eyes shut, trembling again.
A hand touched my own, weakly wrapping around it. I could feel how delicate it was. The skin clung to the bones tightly.
I opened my eyes, looking at my mom, fighting back tears that burned at the back of my throat. She was horribly thin, bones poking out everywhere. She was bald, and her eyes were sunken into her face. She was so pale I was surprised she didn’t blend in with the white sheets of her bed. The only thing holding her up was the stack of pillows under her head. She was hooked up to various machinery, and her hand trembled as it held mine, exhausted from the work of just picking her arm up.
But there was that smile I had grown up with. The beautiful smile that said she loved me. A brave smile on the face of a dying woman. I clung to that smile, because it was all that was left of the person who had been my mom.
I gave her hand a light squeeze, too afraid to speak. My dad took a shaky breath and rubbed my back comfortingly.
“William, it’s going to be okay,” mom promised, the smile staying on her face despite the horrible sadness in her eyes. “It’s all going to be okay. I promise.”
I nodded and sat down next to her bed, keeping a hold on her hand. I let my eyes stay on that smile, my breath uneven as I continued my battle against the tears threatening me. Keeping my eyes locked on that smile, I dedicated it to my memory, and held my mom’s hand as I prepared to say my goodbyes to the person I loved most in the world.
