Broken Promises

72 | noah

"Are you here for Ms. Underwood?"

I snap out of the sleep I'd been drifting into once I hear the question, straightening in my seat and looking up to find a nurse I don't recognize. I focus on her wide blue eyes as she glances from me to my father, trying to see if I spot any pity or sadness.

"Yes," I reply, on edge. I've been waiting for what feels like forever, but how long I've been here is the least of my worries. Right now, I'm solely focused on my mother. "Any news?"

The nurse offers me a gentle smile as she says, "I'm pleased to let you know that Ms. Underwood has been released from surgery, and she's conscious. It seems that everything has gone well, and the doctor has requested for me to tell you she's taking visitors now."

Disbelief runs through my veins as a smile tugs at the corners of my lips, ecstatic beyond words.

"Really?" I question.

"Do you want to see her?" the nurse asks, glancing at my father as if asking for his permission.

Dad nods, appearing exhausted as he murmurs, "Go ahead, Noah. I'll see her after."

I follow the nurse down the hallway and out of the waiting room, ready to see my mother. My heart pounds in my chest to a steady rhythm, excitement and relief rippling through my veins. Mom made it. She's alive. The surgery went well.

The nurse offers me a reassuring smile as we stop at a closed door, turning the knob to open it for me. I slip inside the room, watching as the nurse closes the door behind me, leaving me alone with my mom.

"Mom," I say in a breath, rushing over to her bedside.

Mom gives me a lazy smile as I fall into the chair next to her bed, eyes slowly focusing on mine. I notice how tired she looks and how hazy her movements are. She's no doubt running off of a variety of pain killers and other drugs, not to mention she'd been unconscious for a few hours.

"How do you feel?" I ask her softly. I've been praying, wishing, waiting for this moment since I first arrived at the hospital, but now that it's here it's like I don't know what to say. How are you supposed to act around someone who'd been so close to death? I know that it's only my mother, yet I'm worried to do or say the wrong thing. I don't want to make her situation worse. I've spent a lifetime ruining things for my mother. Now it's time to be the son she's always deserved.

"I'm okay," Mom teases, that old fire of hers returning to her cloudy gaze.

"Do you want me to get the doctor?" I ask. "Maybe he can—"

"That's okay," Mom says faintly. "I'm going to be fine. I'm just glad to see you. Talk to me. Tell me what I've missed."

"Not much." I try to muster a laugh, though it comes out more like a grimace. "Everybody has been in the waiting room, worrying about you. We thought—I thought—" I choke on the words, unable to finish my sentence. How do I tell my own mother I didn't think she was going to live to see another day?

"I'm right here," Mom tells me, taking my hand in hers and squeezing weakly. "Look at me." She gives me a wide smile, though she still looks a little out of it. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

"I can name one place you're going." I try to keep my tone light, pushing past the sadness and fear that's been consuming me since early this morning. "Home. And I'm going with you."

Mom stares at me for a long moment, wordless. Finally, she mutters, "Noah, don't—"

"I'm serious," I interrupt. "I'm going home with you. I know the year isn't over yet, but I want to."

"Noah." Mom looks caught somewhere between sad and hopeful as she gazes up at me, eyes shining either with tears or the reflection of the bright lights in the room around us. "I know that you're happy living with your father. You've been doing so much better. Remember what you told me last night? That you've been happy. I don't want to take that away from you."

"You wouldn't be taking anything away from me," I reassure her. "This is my decision. It was my decision to stay, and now it's my decision to go. I want to be with you, Mom. I can guarantee you that I'll still be happy."

"Noah . . ." Mom trails off, shaking her head at me slowly.

"I'm serious, Mom," I say. And I mean the words. "I want to go back home with you. I can start packing my things tonight. So when you're ready to get out of here, that's what we'll do."

"I don't want to tell you not to do this," Mom croaks, "because you know I'd love to have you home. But I feel like you're not being rational, Noah. You can't make a decision like this based on one situation. You're an adult now. Are you sure this is what you want to do?"

"I've made up my mind, Mom. I'm sure."

My mother's eyes gleam with a happiness that outshines the sad that had been there before. Mom beams at me, beautiful despite the bruises and cuts adorning her features.

"Okay then," Mom whispers, her hand in mine. "If you're sure."

I lean down to plant a kiss on her forehead before whispering, "I love you, Mom."

I'm so grateful that this isn't the last time I'll be able to have her hear me say that.