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I was glad she met Herb. I let go of all my resentment towards her for leaving me and forgave her, and it felt as if a huge burden of guilt and shame fell off my shoulders. It wasn't because of me that she left us. It was because of her inability to deal with the death of my brother.
Tears spilled over my cheeks while I held her hand, not caring anymore if Amanda saw me, because she was crying as well.
"I'm glad you came," Amanda said, wiping her eyes with a tissue. "Even if she doesn't remember you, it's important that you were able to see her."
She handed me the box of tissues and I wiped my eyes. "Me, too. It's hard, but I would have regretted it the rest of my life if I hadn’t."
I spent another fifteen minutes with my mother, and soon, Kent showed up. I let go of my mother's hand to introduce myself.
"Drake," he said and came over, opening his arms to me. I was surprised at the show of affection, considering we'd never met, but I welcomed it.
We hugged briefly and then he looked me over. "You look like her when she was young," he said. "I saw pictures of your father when I was doing research, and you look like him, too. But definitely like mom."
I nodded. Kent was pretty much a dead-ringer for a younger Herb with dark hair and brown eyes. I glanced between Kent and Amanda, my brother and sister, and felt thankful that Kent had taken the chance to find me.
"Thank you for tracking me down and calling."
"My pleasure," he said and then went over to our mother and bent down to kiss her. "Mom, how are you? It's me, Kent."
She grasped his hand and seemed to try to lift up to speak to him, but of course, the nebulizer was still on her face. I checked and the medicine was gone so I removed it for him. She tried to speak, but was nonsense, whatever it was she said.
"She doesn't make any sense," Kent said sadly.
"Once her oxygen goes down, she might be more confused than normal."
I slipped her oxygen cannula over her head and threaded it under her nose. She probably thought I was just another doctor come to see her, instead of her son. I smiled at her, but there was nothing in her eyes that said she knew what was going on around her.
"I have to go," I said and pointed to my watch. "I start my shift in fifteen and I have to get ready."
"Good to meet you," Kent said and beside him, Amanda nodded.
"Yes," she said, and came to give me another hug. "I'm so glad Kent decided to find you. Come by and see her anytime you want. If she starts to decline really fast, we can text you if you want."
"Please do," I said and then I went over to my mother and took her hand once more. "I'm going now, mother, but I'll be back to see you on my break. Try to relax." I squeezed her hand and looked in her eyes. "I love you." But I saw no response. Just confusion.
"See you later," I said to them and left, needing to get out of the room as quickly as possible or I was going to start tearing up again.
I made my way to the nursing station and asked to read my mother's chart. I checked it over quickly, noting what meds they were giving her and how she had been since she was admitted. I thanked the nurses and then took the stairs to the ER wing where my office was. I needed a change of scrubs and to get my mind in the proper state for my shift.
After my shower, I went to the ward and checked on my patients from the previous shift who were still in the hospital. First on my rounds was little Nathan, who had made it through the night but was still sedated. I was thankful that he was doing so well. It was one bright spot on an otherwise depressing afternoon.
Once I'd finished seeing my patients from the previous night, I went back to the ER and looked over the roster of patients waiting to be given tests or consults, but I couldn't shake the sense of grief about my mother during the first few hours I was there, despite being kept very busy and relieved that Nathan had survived. Every time I had a five-minute break between patients, as I was washing my hands after leaving a case, while I was waiting for results to come back from the lab, I thought about my mother and what I had learned of her from my new brother and sister.
It was a very long night.
Before I left, as we were sitting around in the staff lounge, decompressing after a long shift, one of the attending physicians was talking about a patient who came in with the police in a very dissociated state.
"We had to restrain him," Lou said, a cup of coffee in his hand. "He threw a punch and just missed me, luckily, or I'd probably be a patient. He was huge."
We all nodded in understanding, for most doctors and nurses had seen similar cases in their time practicing medicine.
"Better keep Drake away from those restraints," Christy said with a snort.
There was a very awkward silence in the room and several of the staff glanced over at me.
I froze, cup of coffee in hand, and wondered how to handle this. Christy hadn’t said anything to me since that encounter in the parking lot when she chased me out of the build to warn me about my behavior.
At first, I said nothing, because what could I say? That it was none of her business? It was public knowledge. I couldn't deny it.
