Shattered Glass ⇒ Isaac Lahey (ON HOLD)

01; Prolouge

           I was reading mom one of my assigned reading books, To Kill A Mocking Bird. She smiled at me as I set down the book. Her smile wasn't half as bright as it used to be, her skin was pale, and she looked as if she aged 10 years.

           She was dying.

           Somehow I knew. I knew the inevitable, even though I tried to remain optimistic. The nurse brought in her lunch. Mom smiled and said thank you. Melissa peeked her head in the door and I instantly perked up.

           "Sage, I got you lunch if you want it." She tells me with a wide grin.

           I looked at mom for approval and she motioned me to go. I make a move to get up, but I find myself stopping and looking back to her. "Are you going to eat mom?" I ask.

           "I will in just a minute, promise." She smiles gently touching my hand.

           Mine was the hand that was supposed to feel small and fragile. But in the end it was hers that felt like it was going to break wth the slightest amount of pressure. Even more fragile then a China doll. My mother was like tissue paper.

           "But you-"

           "Go Sage." My mother says a little harsher, before adjusting her tone, "Have lunch."

           I nod solemnly and follow Melissa out to the nurse station on that floor. She let me sit behind the desk in one of the spinning chairs. Yesterday she let me sit in one while she pushed me down the hall. We had done the same thing with a wheelchair the day before. I picked at my pudding cup, staring at it for a minute. My mind flooded back to a time when Mom used to tell me about how pudding cups were her guilty pleasure. She would make homemade pudding and sometimes we would do it together.

           Every once in a while though, she would buy a big pack of pudding cups. She told me that homemade was better, in taste and in ingredients, but there was something about the pudding cups she just loved. That's why they were her guilty pleasure. I set my pudding cup aside, not able to eat it. It felt odd eating them with anyone other than my mother. It was almost like our thing. We would watch movies while we ate through the pack she had bought. It was one of my favorite things to do with her. But I don't think I'll ever get a chance to do that with her again. I don't know how I knew, but I knew.

           I look back up to Melissa taking a small bite of my sandwich. I wasn't paying much attention to what she was doing on the computer, and I wasn't even curious. How could I be?

           "What does it mean when a cancer patient hasn't eaten in days?" I ask locking eyes with her once I had finished the bite of turkey sandwich I had just taken.

           Melissa's eyes were full of sadness, that was the only answer I needed. That was her silent way of telling me, it doesn't mean anything good. In fact it's probably the worst thing that can happen. She wouldn't be making the face she was if it weren't.

           "It can't be good, right?" I shrug looking down to my plate, "It means she's going to die soon isn't it?" I look back up to Melissa with sad eyes.

           I wasn't being callous. I just wanted to know what was happening. One of the worst things a person can do to me is leave me in the dark. I hated the feeling of not knowing all the information I could. It's one thing if there's nothing else for me to know. It's another if someone isn't telling me something. Melissa knew she couldn't get away with lying to me. I knew her too well. Her eyes wandered to the food in front of her, not knowing how to answer me.