8 - Ride

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“Life is a roller coaster ride. Enjoy it or endure it.”

 

 8

  

It’s two in the morning, and I sit alone staring at the starless sky from the hospital rooftop. I don’t mind the wind or the cold or the discomfort.

Ever since I was young, I have always loved the night sky. I used to spend my weekends on Warren’s tree house, just staring at the wide expanse of black velvet and indigo mist for hours. I always found the stars fascinating, soothing, like they are part of an ancient lullaby that the heart can only hear. Sky watching has been my reprieve before I even learned to channel my feelings through the violin.

I bet that if only one will spend at least a minute of his day just staring at the sky, appreciating its beauty, he or she will feel a little better. A bit less sad.

The night sky and my music.

As long as I have them, and I believe in myself, I can move on. I know I can. I’ll be fine. I’m sure that I’ll be fine.

 Right?

“Wake up, Warren,” I whisper to the wind, “I want to know the truth.”

I have just finished packing the rest of my things when I hear three sharp knocks. My mouth purses as I spy my mother leaning on the door frame. “Mom?”

She enters the room with a soft smile on her face. “Are you ready?”

I nod, mirroring her expression. Today, I am officially discharged from the hospital. I can now go back to my apartment and my classes. I feel a little bad that I missed so much in the last two weeks I spent recuperating here, when in truth, I can just stay on bed rest in my own bed room.

It is my mother who insisted that I spend my recovery under the watchful eyes of the doctors and nurses. She doesn’t trust me with my medication. Not that I can blame her. I don’t have a smooth track record, after all.

“I’ll drop you off at your place before I head to the airport.”

She’s on her way to a business trip on the other side of Continental US. As I’m not an invalid, I don’t see the point of the hassle roundabout trip in her secondhand Toyota.

My brows draw together. “I’m fine. I can take a cab.”

“Carla…”

“I’ll be careful.” I kiss her forehead, hoping that it’s enough to calm her down. “Call me before you board the plane, okay?”

She sits on the lone chair beside the bed. Her eyes flit through the room, avoiding me.

"Is there something wrong?"

“It’s just that, you know, after your accident I realized that life is too short to be taken for granted.” She pauses, as if to measure my reaction. “I was so scared. I thought I was going to lose you."

"I'm alive, mom."

"I can’t stand it!" Her tone makes me feel like I'm a little girl again. "Come back, Carla. Live with me again. We’ll find a music school nearby where you can complete your practicum, and maybe a new college to transfer in.”

I am already shaking my head before she finishes her sentence. For her, straightforward answers work best, so that’s what I say. “I’m sorry, mom, but I can’t.”

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