The Neighbor

Chapter 33

The next night finds Wanda perched on her bed, her posture criss cross as she leans over her laptop, her focus intense. The screen illuminates her face, casting light on the various files and documents related to the explosion investigation, which are strewn haphazardly across the bed. Her phone is nearby, plugged in and set to maximum volume, ensuring she won't miss any call from the hospital. Leaving the hospital hadn't been any easier tonight; the emptiness next to her in bed was palpable, a stark reminder that you weren't there, not safely ensconced in her arms where she could protect and comfort you.

Her sleep the previous night had been fitful and brief, amounting to barely two hours of restless slumber. The remaining hours were punctuated by her compulsive calls to the ICU, seeking any change, any sign of improvement in your condition.

The silence of the room is broken by a soft voice, "Mommy?" Tommy's hesitant inquiry makes Wanda jump, her heart racing as she's pulled from her vigil. Glancing at the clock on her nightstand, she notes with a start that it's past midnight.

"What are you doing up, my baby?" Wanda asks, her voice tender as she bestows a sweet smile upon her son. Her expression falters when she sees the tears glistening in Tommy's eyes. Closing her laptop, she shifts her full attention to him, her brows knitting together in concern. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

Tommy, still carrying the vulnerability of his dream, moves closer to her. At 10 years old, his moments of childlike need are brief, making them all the more touching. "I had a dream about Momma," he admits, Wanda's heart tightens at the mention of your name.

Wanda opens her arms wide, enveloping him in a warm, reassuring embrace. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asks, stroking his hair gently, trying to soothe away the nightmares that had disturbed his sleep.

Tommy nods against her chest, his words muffled. "In my dream, she was lost, and no matter how much we looked, we couldn't find her."

Wanda feels a pang in her chest, Tommy's dream echoing her own internal fears. Wanda holds her son tighter, her own fears mirroring the dream's narrative. "But you know, dreams aren't real," she whispers, kissing the top of his head. "Momma is in the hospital where the doctors are looking after her. She's not lost, baby. She's just healing, and we need to be strong for her."

She meets Tommy's gaze, trying to infuse her face with confidence and hope, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside her. "Momma is tough, right? She's going to be back with us soon. We just need to be patient."

Tommy looks up at her, his eyes reflecting a mix of understanding and residual worry. "Can we visit her tomorrow? I want to show her Billy's drawing... I think it will help her come back faster."

Wanda's heart aches at Tommy's innocent belief that Billy's drawing could speed your recovery. She knows the stark reality of your condition is something she wants to shield him from, at least for a little while longer. "I know you want to help, and that's so brave and kind of you," she says, her voice gentle yet tinged with a protective firmness. "Billy's drawing is amazing, and it will definitely make her happy. But right now, the doctors are doing everything they can to help her heal, and we need to give them space to work."

She sees the disappointment flicker in Tommy's eyes and quickly adds, "But I'll tell you what, I'll can take the drawing to the hospital tomorrow, and I'll make sure it's right there with her, so it's the first thing she sees when she wakes up. How does that sound?"

Tommy's eyes hold a spark of determination as he looks up at Wanda. "Billy and I should be the one to give it to her, Mommy. We can make her wake up, I know it," he asserts, his voice carrying the unwavering belief of a child convinced of his own power to heal.