Cross My Heart

Chapter Eleven

CROSS MY HEART: CHAPTER ELEVEN

My Dad and I had been sitting at the kitchen table for over forty-five minutes; him trying to convince me to not go see my mother, and me trying to convince him to tell me what was wrong. I was sick of this back and forth banter; I just wanted answers. We had come to a standstill, and had not said anything for a full five minutes. When my Dad finally spoke, my heart skipped a beat.

"Devyn, I am only trying to protect you." I was about to point out to him that I was almost seventeen, when he spoke again. "But I realize that you're not a little kid anymore; you're a young lady. So...if this is what you feel you need to do...then you can do it." I breathed a sigh of relief; I thought that I was never going to win that battle. I sat up to give him a hug when he touched my shoulder. "But I'm doing it with you." I pulled him into my arms and did not let go of his embrace. I loved him so much; I didn't know what I would do without him.

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We arrived at the hospital at 10:30 am, the following Saturday. I had been anxious the entire week, and filled with mixed emotions; I was nervous about finding out what was wrong with her, and just meeting her in general, but I couldn't help but feel a little excited as we entered the gigantic building. Naturally, we had phoned my sister to tell her about everything that was happening. I was a little surprised when she said she wanted absolutely no part in this, whatsoever. I tried reasoning to her, This is our mom, we're talking about. With which she replied, That woman is not my mother. I couldn't blame her, but this was something that I needed to do.

I was a little freaked out by germs, so I lathered my hands in sanitizer as my Dad pressed the button for the elevator. Earlier that week, he had already phoned the hospital to make sure that we could go visit her. The real anxiety set in as we reached our stop; the seventh floor.

When we stepped out of the elevator, three nurses all gathered around a gurney whipped past us, one of them was yelling, "Code blue, code blue!" It gave me shivers. As we turned the corner and approached the nurses station, the palms of my hands began to sweat. I didn't even listen to the conversation between the nurse and my Dad, because I was busy looking up and down the hall, wondering what room my mother was staying in. My Dad thanked the lady, and I followed him as we continued down the same hall the nurses station had been in. When we approached a door, my Dad told me to wait outside, because he figured it would be a big enough shock to see him, but she would probably be dumbfounded to see me. I agreed, and sat down in a chair outside the door.

I will never forget the moment that came next; I heard my mother's voice. It was surreal, after all these years of acting like she wasn't even on Earth, she was steps away from me; living, breathing, talking. I started playing with a piece of thread on the chair, twirling it around my fingers vigoursly, as I listened to, parts, of my father and mother's conversation; it was hard to hear, with patients whining from other rooms, and groups of nurses and doctors shuffling by, making squeaky sounds with their shoes. I closed my eyes to concentrate harder.

"...she found you...nothing...to do with it." This was my father, speaking.

"...she can't...like this. No, Richard."

"...sooner or later....needs you."

There was silence, and then a shuffling of feet. I stood up as my father came out of the room.

"She doesn't want you to see her like this." See her like what? "But..." He looked as if he couldn't finish the sentence, so instead, he took my hand and slowly guided me into the room. It smelt like latex and sick. She wasn't alone in the room; there were three other people, all divided by long, blue curtains. She was staying next to the window, so as we approached her, more sunlight crept up my body. Just as my Dad was about to pull away the curtain, and with it, my wall that I had strategically built around myself, I tugged at his arm. Was I really ready to do this? Was I prepared to finally confront this woman who abandoned me, all those years ago? Was I ready to forgive?