With All My Senses

visiting hours

angle / noun

a particular way of approaching or considering an issue or problem.

8 hours earlier.

The hospital, late afternoon, inside one of the patient's room. 

Weak light seeps through the blinds and falls gently on the linoleum floor. All beds are empty except one, a woman in her late-fifties passes an open door and walks in without hesitation, not her first visit here. She's wearing a burgundy jacket and a skirt to match, a gray coat hanging loosely on her right arm. She stops abruptly and slowly judges the scene before her, eyes growing wider, a worried and anxious expression changing her features. The only people that she would expect here were the doctor, a nurse, or some cleaning staff. The person sitting on a plastic chair by the bed was none of the above.

Excuse me, who are you?

A young woman jumps up and stands there awkwardly, not sure what to do, or how to behave in the situation, a small blush spreading against her pale complexion. 

Well, answer the question. Who are you and what are you doing with my mother?

Oh hush, Connie. You have always been so demanding, even as a child.

Connie O'Reilly stares in shock at her mother's words and doesn't manage to even utter even a single sound. The old woman gives her a dry smile and waves at the girl to sit down. She puts her hands on the covers and waits. It doesn't look as if she might add anything more. The room goes quiet, and Connie's stare falls on the young woman again that scrunches her face and picks up the book from a chair.

I'm just reading to her, you could say I'm a volunteer here, a bit self-proclaimed but all in all, dull and harmless. The staff knows that I am here, you can check - I'll wait here and finish the chapter first if you don't mind; it's a good one.

Mrs. O'Reilly stands there indecisive, not sure what she should actually do. Take the girl's words as the truth or kick her out of the room and barricade the door? She holds the strap of her bag tighter, fingers turning white as she looks for the phone with her other hand, but can't seem to find it. It was here just a moment ago - she thinks frustrated as the sound of two distinct sighs fills her eardrums at the same time; one is frustrated and belongs to her mother, the other one just seems tired and used to the cluster of it all. Connie looks up and sees the girl get up and hand her a cellphone.

You can call from mine, just not too long - I'm trying not to spend too much money; had a lot of expenses this week.

She stares at her for a moment but manages to get her act together. She lifts her hand and pushes the phone away.

That's fine, no need. If you were bad news, my mother would have gotten better just to get out of bed, alert the entire hospital, kick you out and then return to her coma state - that's just the kind of person that she is.

Ah, that's why we get along so well, it takes one to know one. I'm Eleonore by the way, and you can ask Joan later about me, I know she is your mum's nurse. No, really, I would do the same if I were you.

Alright, I probably will. One can never be too careful, especially when a family's well-being is concerned. My name is O'Reilly... Connie.

Well, nice to meet you. It's good to know that Clare has such good defenders.