Only
the Good…
By
“Mommy?
I jerked, standing before I was fully awake.
Momentum caught up with me and I caught myself on the edge of the hospital bed.
“Yes, Ryan?” I croaked; my throat
hoarse from crying.
“Mommy…” he whispered again. His small
hand lifted from the blanket and I took it gently between mine. Sitting carefully
beside him, I kissed his fingertips and looked at my son. His ashen face was
nearly the same color as the stiff, bleached, pillowcase. Where his shiny
blonde hair had once been, he now wore a brightly colored cap—the only color in
the dull, heartless room. The doctors forbade flowers, saying any allergies
could kill him in his weakened state.
“Mommy,” he breathed, shaking his head.
“I don’t want to be sick anymore…”
“I know, baby,” I replied, sniffling as
the tears flowed again. I stroked the thin skin on his palm, tracing a path all
the way to each fingertip. I swallowed the painful sob that threatened to break
through my resolve. “It will all be over soon, baby…”
“And when I’m better,” he said
dreamily, smiling through perpetually dry and cracked lips. “I’ll go back to
school…and I’ll get good grades…”
“Oh yes, Ryan,” I whispered urgently.
“You’re so smart, you might even skip a grade…you’ll be a super genius like Doogie Howser…do you remember
that show, baby?”
“Red…hair…” he sighed.
“That’s right, Doogie
had red hair. And remember how young he was to be a doctor? That will be you,
my genius baby…”
“I wanna be a
race car driver,” he suddenly declared, frowning thoughtfully.
I continued to stroke his hand, though
my other hand had reached up to touch his cheek. He sighed again, shifting
painfully. Biting my lip, I sniffled and glanced at the monitors. What I saw
there, after so many months of being at the hospital, scared me.
“You can do whatever you want, Ryan,” I
said, distracting myself from the growing fear within the pit of my stomach. I
leaned over him, wishing I could hold him close, and cursing the tubes that
covered his tiny body.
“When you grow up, you will be a
successful racer,” I murmured to him, seeing a smile crook his lips again. “And
you will win many races, and have lots of money. You will get married and have
tons of children for me to spoil…” I heard, as if from a great distance, a
beeping. “You’ll have a big house, with a pool right in the ground! And a giant
tree-house, just like the one your Daddy promised to build you!” Someone was
tugging on my arm, and I shook them off. Tears fell onto his smooth face and I
wiped them away. “You’ll never be sick again, baby…”
“Mrs. Morris,” a voice cut through my
rambling.
“Shh, baby,”
I cooed.
“Mrs. Morris…I’m sorry…he’s gone…”
Ignoring them, I finally fulfilled my
wish and gathered my frail son into my arms. “Shhhh,”
I shushed, weeping openly. “It’s okay now…Daddy will take care of you now…I
love you…”
The End