Days With Zion Dawsey

40. Not Sick

"I am not sick, mother." Zion said when he saw his mother carrying a tray with some toast and tea to him. He was laying in his bed upstairs after she had ordered him to.

"Either way, rest will not harm you. Now, be careful. The tea is still hot. Start with the toast." She said, waiting for Zion to sit up in his bed and taking the tray. He did and slowly started chewing on the toast.
"Are you feeling better?" She asked after a minute of just watching him. Zion shrugged and avoided looking at her, like an angry kid.

"You know things are going to change now. I am not going to let you be alone for a long time." Sheryl started, making Zion frown.
"I don't need supervision from my mother, I am not a kid anymore." He snapped.
"With all due respect, honey but I think you're confused with what you need and what you don't need at the moment." She said, stroking his hair. Zion turned his head away, making Sheryl sigh.

"Whether you like it or not, I am staying here for the time being." She said.
"Why? What makes you be like that after years?" He asked her, still not understanding why she was suddenly so demanding.
"I told you." She started.

"Yes and I don't get it. You knew I have a drink every once in a while." He said.
"Zion, tell me one thing. Let's just say River is old enough to drink and he completely destroys his body and his mind by having a few classes every night. What would you do if you found out?" She asked, making Zion even angrier.

"Don't drag him into-"
"You expect me to stay away and watch you lose more weight, watch you ruin your teeth with all the alcohol and the throwing up after. If you ask me to do that, then I am sorry. I cannot and I will not." She said, sitting down on his bed by his legs. Zion closed his eyes, understanding her now.

"Okay." He whispered.
"And I don't care what- what?" She asked.
"I said fine. Do what you want." He said, glancing at his tray.
"Good. Now drink your tea." He rolled his eyes but obeyed his mother.

.

"How are you feeling?" Sheryl asked after coming back upstairs. Zion had taken a nap and she woke him up for lunch. He had to eat and she cooked some tomato cream soup with cheese toast.

"Better." Zion's raspy voice reached her as he sat up and stretched.
"Would you like me to bring you your lunch or do you want to come downstairs?" She asked him, covering his forehead with her hand.
"Mom, I'm really not sick." He yawned, gently swatting her hand away as he stood up.

"Alright, honey. Let's go downstairs then." She smiled up at him before leading him into the kitchen. They once again sat down across each other and started to dig in.

Zion's stomach immediately felt better once the warm liquid filled it up. The toast was amazing too and he realized he had not thanked his mother once today, even though she had done so much for him. He stared at her, seeing her hand shake slightly as she blew on her spoon. She was not the youngest anymore, but had done anything to make him feel taken care of. She had cleaned his room, made him food and walked the stairs quite a few times that day. What a brat he was.

"Mom?" Sheryl was still not used to hearing him call her 'mom'.
"Yes, hun?" She looked up at him.
"Thank you." He said, surprising Sheryl. She nodded.
"You're welcome." She answered.

"Do you like the soup? It's my own recipe." She asked with a genuine smile on her face.
"Yes, I love it. I remember the taste." He responded with a small smile as well.
"Whenever I was sick you'd make plenty of different soups. They all taste amazing." He continued.

"Now you're only flattering me." She swatted her hand, making Zion shake his head in amusement. He watched her eat as he slowly finished his food. Once she was done, he stood up before she even had a chance, and took their bowls before placing them into the dishwasher.

"Oh honey, you have to rinse them-"
"It's okay, I'll do it later." He said, sitting back down. Sheryl shook her head and stood up to rinse the bowls.
"Mother, I said I will do it later." He stood up again and stopped her from cleaning.

"What's wrong?" She asked as he held her wrists.
"You've done enough. I don't need you to do my dishes, you're not my housemaid." He said.
"Well, do you have one?" Sheryl asked.
"No, because I don't want one." He said, making his mother roll her eyes.

"Maybe you should still get one. This place was a mess when I came." She said, completely exaggerating, she knew.
"Alright, then I'll get one. But you're not it, okay?" He repeated.
"Why can't I just-"

"Because you're-" Zion didn't know what to say, so he just shrugged, remembering what always made her angry.
"You're old." He finished, making his mother scoff. His cheek soon met his mother's palm and he chuckled as his head was thrown to the side.

"That hurt." Zion said, holding his cheek with a big smirk.
"Well, you hurt my feelings. We're even." Sheryl shrugged and then turned around to walk out of the kitchen.
"Where are you going?" He asked, following her.

"I'm going upstairs to make your bed. When I come back down I expect you to sit on the couch and wait for me. We will have a chat." She said, wiping that grin right off Zion's face. He sighed and slowly walked towards the couch.

There was no way he could avoid talking to her. After all she had taken care of him and really wanted to talk to him. It wasn't like it was with Ebony. He could ignore her, but not his mother. So he patiently waited.

Once Sheryl was back downstairs, she wasted no more second to sit down next to her son. She had already prepared tissues, cookies and tea beforehand. They were set on the coffeetable, but completely ignored once she faced Zion, who was already looking at her.

"So how long have you been doing this?" She asked him, obviously referring to the drinking.
"We're jumping right in, huh?" He asked, making his mother glare at him.
"There's no foreplay to it?" He joked, knowing his mother did not want to hear about foreplays or anything related. She's always been like that and he's always known how to irk her.

"Zion, this is not funny. I know you're trying to make me upset and forget about the talk. But honey, you must realize that you are 34. You're no teenager in trouble anymore. You are a grown man with big issues. You know exactly that one way or another, you'll need to start talking." Sheryl said, taking his hand in hers.

"You said if I don't want to talk, you're going to talk. So talk." He said, his jaw set tight.
"That was a lie. I want you to answer some questions first." Sheryl said, knowing what irked him as well.

And so she repeated her question.