A Magazine in God's Waiting Room

Chapter Three

I really have no clue as to why Ponce De Leon thought that Florida was such a great place. There is nothing great about sweating in your sleep so much your sheet nearly disintegrates. I blink my eyes open and throw everything that's touching me, minus my boxers, on the floor. I lay out star fished on my bed and try to piece together the last month or so of my life. When my mother first entered her coma, everybody was hopeful. There were no talks of If she woke up only When she woke up. Then after the third day they were still somewhat hopeful they would remind me to talk to her when I visited because there's a chance, she might hear me and wake up. There's no real science in that, I think, that's one of those things like ghosts and aliens that because there's not enough to disprove it there's not enough to prove it either, so people just keep talking to their sleeping relatives hoping that they will wake up and will be this magical Snow White moment.

Then the days turned into weeks, the first week there was still plenty of hope but, by the end of week two we had to face facts. So, we naturally discussed who would house me. I turn 18 in a few months so going through the emancipation process seemed pointless. I had one year left of high school so of course my case worker wanted me to stay in Maryland. She nearly begged my dad's parents to take me but, they refused me yet again. That left only one option, ship me off to the sunshine state and wait for me to ripen. To make up for giant uprooting they have offered me an opportunity to go back up to finish my senior year if by the time my 18th rolls around I have a clean bill of mental health. Sometime this week I go for my first appointment. First appointments are always worse than first dates, on first dates you go over really surface level things like movies and songs and maybe a quick funny anecdote about an experience you had at the gym that you only say so the other person knows that you A. go to the gym and B. are funny. When you have your first session with a therapist you must let it all hang out within the first few minutes of meeting this other human being. Most people will normally single it out to two or three traumas and then let the other stuff flows out over the next couple of sessions.

For a while my go to was always my dead dad. I mean that's just a classic, but now, I get to add mom in coma to my trauma bingo. Sometimes I wish I had siblings the way people on Disney Channel had siblings. The way they always have each other's backs and make up crazy schemes. I had friends with siblings who said that was highly unrealistic and that they always fight with their brothers and sisters. I still feel that maybe if I had had one it would be like that. My traumas would be shared with someone who is genetically like me, I would have someone who was obligated to be my friend. I used to imagine having an older sibling either a brother or sister I wouldn't care which one. They would pick me up from school, they would tell my girlfriends to treat me right, they would be there when I needed a friend. Not to say I am a sad sack with no friends, I have a few but, when I am having an issue, I don't turn to them. They are the kind of friends you sit with at lunch and maybe go to the occasional party with, they are not pouring your heart out type of friends.

I decide to stop being cooked in my bed and sit up to get the day started. As I start walking in the direction of the bathroom, I realize that I forgot to trash all the things I was supposed to last night which is just fantastic. I try to listen out to see if they are home right now and decide to just say screw it and quit worrying. I repeat the mantra of It's just trash over again in my head as I walk out my door and I run into the smell of sausage cooking. I follow my nose out to the kitchen to Grandma Enid looking very busy by the stove.

"Hey Mason! Did you sleep well honey?" She asks flipping a pancake with her spatula. As I approach, I see she has a whole continental laid out before me; toast, pancakes, sausage, bacon, and scrambled eggs.

"I slept alright, warmer than what I remembered. What's all this?" I ask walking to the trashcan by the end of the bar counter and shoving it all in.