Finally

Part 39: No Way, Norway, Northway, Norman

I wasn't the least bit happy about having to sit through that EEG.

It felt like it took hours.

Agnes told me to relax.

How?

How does one relax with tiny metal disks pulling at your skin and hair.

Heating your scalp like needles put in flames before stabbed into your flesh to sear it.

Granted- maybe my nerve endings are confused about sensations lately, but still.

Bloody ballocks.

Then Vincent wails and shrieks while the test is going on.

How can one relax with that?

Not that.

A baby.

He's a baby.

My son.

Which Max has been over handling him as if he [Vincent] is Luna all over again and doesn't trust a soul to handle him.

Does he not understand that Vincent isn't Luna.

Isn't his son, but mine.

That's not what I meant.

He is Vincent's parent. I will always believe that.

But what I mean, is he shouldn't. Hold my son from me when I say I will do something. Because at the end of it- I am his mother and I have rights that come over Max's.

But here we are.

Sitting in Agnes' office- Max changing my son's diaper and Agnes patiently waiting- as if she can't start explaining to me- her patient and a doctor- what's going on with me because the man is currently busy.

Do they both think I'm that inept?

"Sorry....and done." Max happily says as he tosses the diaper in the hazard bin just outside the door and scoops Vincent up off the floor. Cradling the babe in his arms, he tickles him under his chin and the baby smiles slightly and waves his arms.

The bond is there.

And how couldn't it be.

"Alright. So, in reviewing the images and everything, I have good news and bad news. The bad news is you are experiencing absent seizures. Most likely based on internal stress- which often happens in patients who have had transplants- particularly heart transplants. The good news is we can begin controlling them or at least making them less frequent with anti seizure medications. Therapy may also be a good suggestion." Agnes smiles softly and I simply feel heavy. "I know this isn't what you want to hear Helen and it will be a bit of an adjustment, but it's going to be alright. In the meantime, I want you to try therapy and just relax at home with your son."

I can't help but stare at her collar bone for a few minutes.

Trying so hard to figure out how it all came to this.

How I lost everything.

"Helen?" Agnes clears her throat slightly- no doubt wondering if I'm in my mind or if I'm absent and fleeting somewhere else.

"Why me?" It drops from my mouth like a raindrop off the tip of an umbrella, hardly noticeable, if you are looking towards the scenery- but if you're not- it's loud and eye catching.

"I'm...I'm sorry?"

"Why me?" I say again and now my eyes catch hers, my tone jutting upwards in my throat like I just witnessed some sort of cruel act be performed.