Comfort
n. a state of physical ease of a person's feeling of grief or pain
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I grab ahold of his right hand and put it to my chest. With every beat of my heart I wanted him to feel my words. "I love you more than you could've ever imagine. W...
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Flashback 3 years ago
Tears fall down my face as my mom's grip on my hands loosens. I know she's only falling asleep but I can't help my mind from wondering.
We've been battling the cancer for a little over a year and she isn't getting any better.
The doctor just gave us a different medical plan of action that has a higher chance of saving her life but it isn't covered in our insurance so it would need to be paid upfront, out of pocket.
That would be no problem, if my mom didn't put all her savings into making up for the 25% the grant didn't cover for me to go to the best private high school in the country.
Not to mention she's also been out of work for a whole year because of her weak condition.
I let her hands rest on the bed and I occupy myself by rearranging the bouquet of flowers by her desk.
It's my favorite flowers, a mix of peonies and pink roses, that my boyfriend got me a few days ago. Lately, it's been the only thing that can make me smile in this small hospital room.
Well that and his black hoodie he gave me a while ago.
My boyfriend, Lake, is a trust fund baby, his mom has generational ownership of the top law firms in the country and his dad was one of the best NFL players before he died.
He's knows I'm short on money so he's always offering me some cash and I've denied every single time.
My pride won't let me take hand outs. But my pride is running out, I need money bad.
I average $280 a week as a busser at a country club and a babysitter, in total my savings has only $4,200. Which isn't even a quarter of what I need for the surgery.
In the middle of rearranging the flowers, I hear a knock on the door.
I take a quick look in the bathroom mirror to brush down my short curly hair, and put on lipgloss in hopes it'll make me look somewhat presentable for Lake.
I hear another knock at the door but Lake never knocks twice. He's rather sit out there for an hour and then go home then knock twice.
I quickly open the door and there's no Lake.
It's Adelina, Lake's best friend who I've never spoken to and a woman is standing next to her.
It didn't take long for me to recognize that she was Lake's mother.
She looks the exact way I pictured her to; she's tall, blond, blue eyes, and drop dead gorgeous. A female replica of Lake.
I stand frozen as I look at the both of them. Lake's mother smiles at me and says, "Sorry to bother. Are you Elvire?" Even her voice sounds like it's made of money. She has a very oldish rich part of nyc accent and it's way stronger than Lake's accent.
