I Play for Keeps

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

“Hey mom! I’m home!” I shouted after closing the door with my foot. I heard mom groan in her bedroom, and I smiled to myself, happy she was alive. I walked to the kitchen, and plopped the groceries on the counter. Humming to myself, I put my Mac n Cheese mix in the microwave and heated it up. Bringing a glass of water, I walked into mom’s room. Her eyes were closed and she was heavily panting. Realizing I was here, she opened eyes, and she tried her best to manage a smile. “Hey mom.” I said, trying to maintain a steady voice. Taking the glass, I put it to her lips. Slowly, she took a few sips. I then took a wet sponge and dabbed on her forehead; mom sighed in content.

“How are you?” her voice was hoarse, and I knew it hurt her to speak.

“Mom don’t strain your voice. My day was good. How are you feeling?”

“Not very good. But I’m glad your day went well.” She coughed a few times, and shakily, her hand reached for the glass of water. I handed it to her, and she gulped down the rest. “The doctors called today,” she said hesitantly.

“And?” I asked, hoping for good news.

“Tomorrow they’re gonna take me to the hospital to do chemo therapy. I’ll be gone for about a month.”

“A month?!” I repeated. Slowly, she nodded.

“Do they know if it’ll make you better?” Mom shrugged, yawning.

“I’m gonna sleep for a while. Love you, honey.”

“Love you too.”

I walked out into the hallway, and coughed. Something smelt awful. Had mom tried to cook something while I was gone? I walked further into the smoke to see what was going on.

Fire. It’s red flames spreading around the kitchen. Our wooden cabinets were being swallowed whole by the flames. The smoke detectors were wailing a shrill whine that pained my ears. My thoughts became hazy as the smoke swallowed me whole.

Mom. I have to save mom.

Numbly, my body began to move. Every breath I took was followed by a loud cough that racked my body. It felt like my chest was stabbed upon every breath I took.

I burst through her door, and took my mother’s hand. With all my strength, I pulled her off her bed. She collapsed in my arms, coughing and wheezing. I dragged her body to the window. We both opened it, and I eased her onto the ledge. She looked at me, tears in her eyes and she pushed herself off the ledge. I heard a sickening snap and knew mom must’ve broken some bone in her body with that fall. But she was alive. That’s what mattered most.

Leaving the window open, I left mom’s room. The smoke was getting thicker. I had to save her.

I had to save Hope.

Stumbling around, trying to avoid the fire, I found my rom. The fire was spreading fast, and I knew I only had minutes to spare. Wrapping my fingers around Hope’s case, I picked up my guitar and ran out my bedroom.

And I know what you’re thinking. It’s a stupid guitar; why waste your life for something you can easily replace? Blah, blah, blah.

But it’s his.

It’s my big brother’s guitar.

I suppose if I die along with my mother, someone’s gotta know the story.

Hope was never mine. She belonged to my big brother, Michael. He taught me how to play guitar and piano. He’s why I love music.

Inside the case are two important things I hold onto dearly. A picture of Michael and me when we were younger, and an unopened letter from the army.