MOMMY ISSUES | Tamber

17

In the dimly lit hospital room, Tara sat perched on the edge of the examination table, wrapped in a drab hospital gown that hung loosely around her slender frame. Her gaze was distant, lost in a world of her own as she stared off into nothingness.

Beside her knelt a nurse, her voice a gentle murmur breaking the eerie silence of the room.

"...and this is the last sample we'll need for the kit, okay? Just an oral swab, then you'll be all set," the nurse explained softly, holding out the swab with a reassuring smile.

But Tara remained unresponsive, her mind seemingly elsewhere. The nurse exchanged a concerned glance with her colleague, silently acknowledging the depth of Tara's detachment.

Before the nurse could make another attempt to draw Tara back to the present, the door swung open with a sudden bang, causing everyone in the room to jump. In rushed Amber, her appearance disheveled and frantic, closely followed by Sam, who wore a look of grim determination.

"Well? Is she—" Sam's voice cut through the tension, sharp and urgent.

Amber moved forward, her steps shaky and unsteady, as if she were in a daze. Her eyes widened in horror when they landed on Tara's frail form, draped in the hospital gown.

"Oh, God...Tara. Baby, what...?" Amber's voice cracked with emotion as she turned to the nurse, her desperation palpable.

"Please, tell me what happened," she pleaded, her voice trembling with fear and uncertainty.

The nurse's sympathetic expression deepened as she glanced between Tara and the distraught figures before her. It was clear that something significant had occurred, something that had shaken them all to the core.

Amber trembled as she pleaded, "I'm so sorry...I'm so, so sorry, sweetheart. I never should have left you alone, I--"

But Sam cut her off with a virulent glare, fists clenched at her sides. "Oh, absolutely not. Don't you even start with the self-pity bullshit."

She stalked forward until she was practically nose-to-nose with Amber, oblivious to the Nurse's protests. "How...could you have let this happen, huh?! How could you not be there to protect her, after everything you've put her through already?"

Amber flinched back like she had been slapped, fresh guilt sheening her stricken features. Sam seized the opening with a contemptuous shake of her head. "And you want forgiveness? You expect us to give you that, after this?"

She jabbed a finger in Tara's direction. "Look at her! She's ruined, shattered all over again because of you and your selfish craving for control over her life--"

"...stop."

Both women froze at the ugly rasp, all attention snapping back to the haunted shell peering out from beneath the shapeless gown. It was the most animation they had seen in those sunken eyes since arriving.

Instinctively, Sam tried to soften her features, stepping closer with a conciliatory hand extended. But Tara flinched almost imperceptibly, cringing away from Sam's reach.

Amber sucked in a wounded breath, the hurt of seeing Tara recoil from her beloved sister like a visceral wound across her own psyche. The adoration and devotion in her gaze curdled even further, splintering under the weight of this new outrage.

Beside her, Sam was scarcely more composed. She swallowed thickly through a curdled knot of emotions, lost and floundering in uncharted territory for them both.

"Please, you two...just stop. I can't-- I can't deal with your squabbling right now," Tara rasped, trembling suddenly and hugging her frail arms as aftershocks of violation ricochetted mercilessly through every nerve ending. Her eyes pleaded mutely with them both, beseeching a stay to their caustic vitriol—if only for a moment.

"I'm so tired. I just...I just want to sleep."

Amber's heart shattered anew, an abject lamentation tightening her features at the haunted pronouncement. Wounded but grief-stricken love warred on her expression, overriding the self-recrimination as she inched a hand out, only to falter before touching Tara.

"Sleep, then, angel. I'll be right here. And when you wake...whatever you need. I swear it."

Tara held her soulful regard for a fraught heartbeat, then gave an infinitesimal nod. But even as she surrendered to the blessed oblivion of unconsciousness, the battle lines had shifted once more, chasms of complexity splintering open in their wake.

-

Tara sits on the edge of the hospital bed, withdrawn and hunched inwardly. Her sister Sam hovers beside her, jaw set tightly as she finishes packing a duffel bag.

Across the room, Amber lingers by the window, arms folded and observing the proceedings with wary apprehension. A knock precedes a nurse entering, carrying a clipboard. She offers the group a tight smile and extends the clipboard towards Tara, explaining that she just needs a couple signatures for Tara's discharge.

Tara stares at the clipboard hollowly, making no move to take it. Sam reaches out and accepts it instead, casting Amber a pointed look.

"I've got this. Go wait in the hall for us, would you?" Sam says in a low, heated tone.

Amber stiffens. "Excuse me? I'm not going anywhere until--"

"Until you've made this tragedy all about your martyr complex again? Fat chance," Sam interrupts, her voice laced with frustration.

Tara seems to shrink smaller on the bed, wishing she could disappear between the two women. Amber's eyes smolder with hurt and outrage, but before she can respond, Sam presses on.

"You've done enough, okay? Tara needs space to heal without your warped cult of suffering dragging her back under," Sam says in a lowered tone.

Amber recoils, white-knuckling her arms as her features contort. She opens her mouth, undoubtedly prepared to unleash a fierce retort. But then a small, indistinct noise escapes Tara's throat, freezing them both.

Tara's raspy, dull voice cuts through the weighted silence. "...please, you two. Just...stop."

She doesn't look at either of them, eyes glazed and bug-eyed as she shrinks back against the bed. Sam's jaw tightens, shooting Amber a scathing look before turning to the nurse.

"Give me that. I'll get the discharge paperwork handled," Sam says, snatching the clipboard and sweeping from the room.

Amber watches her go, the fight seeping out of her as she takes a halting step towards the bed. "Sweetheart...I'm so sorry. Tell me what to do here-- anything, just...just say the word."

But Tara doesn't seem aware of her, hugging herself as ragged tremors continue to wrack her emaciated frame.

In the hallway, Sam strides towards the nurse's station, fury radiating off her. She slams the clipboard down, demanding to sign the discharge papers. The nurse startles but complies, and Sam makes it clear that Tara is leaving with her and Amber is not to go near her.

Returning to the hospital room, Sam finds Amber still hovering by Tara's bedside, gently stroking her hair. The gentleness only inflames Sam's protectiveness, and she grips Amber's arm in a vise-like grip, ordering her to leave.

Amber panics, refusing to go. But then Tara stirs, her slurred voice stating that maybe she should go with Sam "for now." Amber staggers, devastated, as Tara's words sink in.

With no further resistance from Amber, Sam gathers the frail Tara into her arms and carries her out, leaving Amber alone in the room, crumbling into agonized sobs.