I live for her

Chapter 17: Peeking Scars

Leroy ♞ 

Her wrinkled fingers felt cold in my hand. The stress of everything really weighed heavily on her health. Is it bad that I hoped I contributed to a fraction of that "stress" that accelerated her aging? 

Emily stood awkardly in the corner closest to the door. My sunflower blushed tomato red when mum told her she liked the scent of her lipstick or chapstick... whatever it was that coated her sweet lips. 

"It's a new cola flavor," Em uttered with less shyness in her voice. 

And a conversation ensued, about favourite lipstick flavours, and I guess you could say I was relieved. Everything went well. Mum assured me she was fine but hinted that she'd love a box of Lindt chocolates if she came out alive. I smiled. 

After seconds of mental preparation, I find the capability to utter, "Mum, I'm sorry". She turns her head from Emily - who was now standing next to me by her bed - to grace my eyes with her 'I understand' smile. 

She squeezes my hand with tenderness. "It's okay."

I hold my breath while she clears her throat. "I always knew that you'd come.". She tends to know everything. 

"Thanks" 

Awkwardness revisits my veins as she and Emily filled the sterile atmosphere with their voices and giggles. 

I start to reflect on the past few days as they forget of my presence. A part of me wants to open my mouth wide and let the events escape my mouth - but the other part... I don't know. I guess it'd be extremely selfish of me. Hopefully I'll get my mother back after the op. The one that would stay up and tell me stories I never asked for. But she's got that storyteller voice that just grasps your attention and before you know it you've spent two hours listening to your mother reminisce of her high school days. 

You see, mother's voice has this raspy tone that splashes vivid colours on the walls of my mind and paints all sorts of feelings that keep me engaged. That's why people listen when she talks - she sounds like she only has wisdom to share... you know - something worth your attention. 

Mother's singing voice - that's another wonder: Lauryn Hill kind of vibes. 

A tall skinny middle-aged man dressed like a staff... or nurse interrupts my thinking. "Hi, sorry young lady and young man, visiting hours are over. You need to leave so our patient over here can catch some rest - she hasn't been eating lately... so I can't let you stay for longer." 

Emily turned to me as though she was expecting me to save the day and spit some fire out of my mouth so this guy would disappear. I imagined that, the satisfaction of burning him up with fire breath. 

She pinched me back into reality. "Alright sir, we'll be out now". He returned a thumbs up gesture and walked out the room. 

Mum's eyes went down when both Emily and I looked in her direction. "Hospital food doesn't taste nice deary." 

Emily nodded in agreement. "I feel you." 

And I made no comment on the topic of my mum's eating because she normally didn't eat much - had something to do with growing up with seven siblings and being the oldest. 

"I'll miss you," the low-appetite and grey-haired Lauryn Hill uttered. 

The man nurse showed his face again so a quick forehead kiss, squeeze of her hands and wave goodbye was all I could offer. 

Upon exiting her room, I smell death again. Hospitals make you aware life and death. The white tube lights lining the ceiling gives one the impression that this place was holy or something. In actuality, this place is not holy - it's a graveyard: a place where dead bodies are collected.