I'm sitting in a fat woman's car listening to jazz, waiting to get to the hospital to see my mom. The woman driving (the fat girl) has orange, curly hair. Her clothes are like 4 sizes too small, and she's covered in freckles. She is wearing skinny jeans and a bright yellow tank-top (not very slimming).
My throat is aching and my heart's pounding. I think I'm crying but I'm really not sure. "My name's Pam," The fat lady broke the silence.
I say nothing. "Your name is Nessarina, right?" She questions.
I nod my head. She hands me a tissue, I guess I am crying. "Thanks," I manage.
"No problamo," Is that really her best attempt to be 'cool'.
I mentally glare at her. I pray that she doesn't talk for the rest of the ride. About ten minuets later I can see the roof of Cox Health. "We'll Be gong to the west Urgent Care facility." Pam utters.
Again I say nothing. She parks in a reserved parking space, and we both get out. We walk through the perfectly clear front doors, and through the lobby to an elevator. She pushes the 'up' button on the wall. Our elevator comes almost immediately. She makes me go in first. "Which floor are we going to?" Pam looked surprised that I was talking.
"3rd floor. Room 247" She replied
My stomach ached, not just from the elevator ride but from imagining what my mom looks like. My demented thoughts keep picturing her laying on the hospital bed bleeding, bleeding to death. Stuff like that never bothers me, but now I feel like I'm going to vomit. I feel like my life is crumbling, like everything I have and everything I will have just vaporized. Like I have nothing left, no one that likes me, no one that will even talk to me.
I franticly look at the numbers on the doors: 245,246,247. "This is the room." Pam told me.
She opens the door, I see my mom. She's bruised and torn. She looks so exhausted. Then my mom speaks, "Ness,"
Then it happened, the 'Beep', I will never forget the 'Beep' of the machine telling me and everyone else in the room that my mom is dead. Never coming back. Never gonna smile at me again, she's never going to be there when I just need to cry.
The nurses tried to revive her. 5 times to be exact. those 5 seconds it took to try to bring my mom back to life felt like 78 years. 78 years I was standing in the middle of a random room, in a random building, in a random city, in a random state, in a random country, on a random continent, in a random ocean, on a random planet. I'm laying on the clean floor, leaving a puddle of tears, just like when Spongebob's spatula broke. My life was slowly falling apart, breaking into millions of pieces.
