Damaged Memories

Part 12

When Grace peeked through the window in the hospital room she gasped and slapped her hand over her mouth to suppress a cry. The fragile little boy was lying flat on his back with tubes inserted into his nose and mouth, while probes were connected to several parts of his lifeless body, a slight rising and falling of his bony chest the only sign of life. A lone brown teddy bear was tucked underneath his arm, maybe it was his favourite toy, and she could see a blaring red rash all over his skin that looked terribly grim, even to Grace who was certainly no medical expert. The boy had the same dark brown hair as Michael and the same flat nose, in fact, as Grace cast her eyes over his face she noticed that he was a spitting image of his dad and she had to swallow hard to force the nausea back down into her stomach.

Emma had pleaded with her not to go to the hospital, but she'd been curious to catch a glimpse of Michael's offspring, despite how morbid it may have seemed. Not only that, but she also knew that this poor little boy was alone because both of his parents were incarcerated for the immediate future and his grandparents in Mexico were dead. And even if Michael's parents had been willing to see the boy, they were far too old and frail to make the journey to Panama, let alone look after a child. So sadly he had no one. Even though Grace owed Michael nothing, she still felt like she had a duty to check in on him, after all, it wasn't the boy's fault that his parents had been so irresponsible.

A nurse suddenly brushed past Grace and entered the little boy's room before she took down some notes on a clipboard and checked the digits on the machine. She adjusted the tube up his nose then ran her fingers down the side of his cheek tenderly, as if she was family, then she turned and left the room, as quickly as she had arrived, shooting Grace a wry smile as she passed.

Grace glanced around, hesitant to go inside in case someone questioned who she was, but it was quiet in the ward, just one other nurse hurried about further down the corridor, checking on her patients. She looked back to the little boy and tentatively stepped into his bare room as a lump rose up into her throat. The bed completely dwarfed him and she had an overwhelming urge at that moment to scoop him up into her arms and cuddle him close, but instead she sat next to the bed on a rickety wooden chair, forcing back the tears.

"Hi Thomas, I'm Grace, a friend of your dad's," she whispered, fearful that she might wake him. "I'm so sorry that you're here all alone. Although your daddy has done some silly things in his life, I can assure you that he never meant for this to happen. If he was here with you right now he'd be telling you how much he loves you and how much he's looking forward to your cuddles and hearing you laugh again. I know that because that's what he used to tell me he was looking forward to the most when he became a father. He lived for those moments." Grace watched as Thomas' eyelids fluttered and she wondered if he was dreaming. If he was, she hoped it was a peaceful dream.

"I know it must be hard not to have the people you love here, trust me, I've been there. But all I can say is that things will get better Thomas, so you need to get well, OK? So you can grow up, make him proud and one day give him all of those cuddles that he so desperately wants." Grace sniffed back the tears as she tried to compose herself. "He won't be gone forever," she continued, shaking her head as her voice broke and she was overcome. "And I know you'll find it in your heart to forgive him one day for leaving you, perhaps I will too." She paused and pursed her lips, breathing out slowly as she collected her thoughts. "But even if you can't bear to forgive him, just know that he loves you and he always will."

Grace rose to her feet feeling completely overwhelmed and brushed at her eyes angrily, cursing Michael for leaving his son in such an awful predicament. Then she hovered her hand above Thomas' tiny lifeless fingers and slowly lowered her index finger into the palm of his warm hand, circling it ever so gently.