“There is a great deal of difference in believing something still, and believing it again.”
― W.H. Auden
I walk down the familiar hospital corridors, until I come to my mother’s ward. I hesitate only slightly before entering and taking my usual place beside her.
The love I feel when I look at her is overwhelming. She is my reason to live. She is the reason I can keep going. She is the person who loves me no matter what I do, or have done.
“I love you…” I murmur, blinking back the tears. She doesn’t answer me. She never does, anymore. I’m not sure she can even hear me. But if she can, I want her to know I love her.
Hours later, I leave the hospital. I just catch the busy train before it leaves the station, and dash for the only empty seat. Wedging my bag under the seat, I lean back, breathing heavily.
“Hope?” comes a voice. I turn my head, and realise Adam sits in the seat next to me.
“Oh… Hi Adam.” I mumble, awkwardly. He smiles at me, and I try for a smile back.
We talk for a while, though I’m reluctant to talk about myself.
“I play the guitar,” he tells me, “Do you play any instruments?”
“I sing,” I reply, “Just not when there are any glass objects nearby.”
He laughs, and I manage a smile.
“Maybe you could sing for me sometime,” he says.
“You don’t want to hear that,” I assure him.
“Well, maybe I could play for you sometime?”
“I’d like that.”
All too soon, the train pulls to a halt. I stand up, slip my khaki jacket back on. Adam and I leave the train, along with half the passengers. He takes my hand and helps me down onto the platform. It’s unnecessary, but a nice gesture.
“Goodnight, Adam,” I say, quietly.
“’Night, Hope,” he replies, letting go of my hand. I almost wish he hadn’t let go.
I watch him until he’s out of sight; swallowed by the crowd.
With a small sigh, I head for Aunt Emily’s.
***
The next morning, it’s Saturday. I wake around nine o’clock, dress in a sleeveless, collared white shirt and tight, navy jeans. I twist my long hair up into a messy bun, wash my face, and apply a small amount of black eye-makeup.
I brush my teeth and walk into the kitchen, pouring myself a bowl of cornflakes and eating them in silence.
“You’ll be cold,” notes Emily, as she joins me at the kitchen counter.
“I’ll put a jacket on when I leave the house,” I tell her, with a shrug. She nods, thoughtfully.
“About that… I don’t want you to visit your mother today,” she tells me, firmly. I stare at her, my thoughts first shocked, then confused and angry.
“Would you care to explain why?” I ask, stiffly.
“You spend every waking moment either at school or at the hospital, hun. Today, just today, I want you to enjoy yourself. There’s a fair on in town, this evening. I’ll give you some money; ring Amy, see if she wants to spend the day in town with you. Please, Hope.”
