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“He’s going to be fine,” I murmur.
“I hope so,” she says in a teary tone. It seems like she has a lot to say but can’t seem to get the words out. We both sit in silence.
The sterile white walls seem to close in on us, creating a sense of confinement. I find myself yearning for the familiar comfort of home, where the walls hold memories rather than the scent of antiseptic. The harsh fluorescence above casts an unrelenting brightness, intensifying the stark reality of the hospital setting.
“You know…” Kyle’s mother begins and I turn to look at her giving her my attention. “We used to be very close, my husband and I. Things changed when he founded Anderson Corp and he became very busy and we slowly started drifting apart. And slowly we became housemates.”
She takes a deep breath sniffling. “Kyle got to suffer the brunt of our fight. I hated that my husband was always away, and I decided to find solace in the company of my friends, traveling and having fun. I’m sure Kyle must have already told you this, but we were barely there for him while he was growing up.”
“Yeah, he did,” I reply with a nod.
“I feel bad about that, and I’ve recently tried to get him to forgive me and mend fences with Kyle but it seems like it’s too late.”
“I don’t think it’s too late, give him time.”
She offers me a weak smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m glad that he has you.”
Not knowing what to say in response, I respond with a smile.
“My husband and I just mended fences and are gradually becoming close again. We just started going to therapy and things are finally starting to look good.” Her lips are trembling and I can feel her pain. “I don’t want him to die, there are so many things that I have to tell him. So many things that we have to do together.”
“I’m sure he’s going to be fine.” I spread out my arms and hug her, her body gently shaking as she sobs.
I can’t help but wonder what I would do if Kyle were to be in the same position, the thought alone sends shivers down my spine.
I hug Kyle’s mom for a while until she stops crying. The distant hum of machinery adds a layer of disquiet to the atmosphere. It's a symphony of beeps and whirrs. The metallic taste of worry lingers on my tongue, a bitter undertone to the already tense air.
Kyle comes back carrying a tray with two paper cups of coffee and a bottle of water. “Here,” he hands me a cup of coffee and his mother the bottle of water, before resuming his position next to me.
I murmur a thank you, as I wrap my hands around the coffee allowing it to warm me up. I glance at my wristwatch, it’s 3:30 A.M, and almost four hours since we got here.
As we wait for the doctor to come tell us the situation of things, the anticipation is palpable. Every rustle of paper, every distant footstep, heightens the expectation. The taste of anxiety, metallic and bitter, continues to linger, mirroring the uncertainty that shrouds us.
“I think I’m going to go for a walk,” Kyle says after a while. He stands up and thrashes his untouched coffee in a trash can pulling his fingers through his hair as he walks outside.
It breaks my heart to see him this way and hurts even more because there isn’t much I can do to help.
“You look like you need some fresh air yourself, why don’t you join Kyle? I will be fine on my own,” Kyle’s mother says.
“Sure?”
“Yes,” she responds with a nod.
I give her a gentle rub on her back before standing up to go in the direction that Kyle had gone.
The cool night air envelopes me like a soft, dark embrace as I step outside. The delicate rustle of leaves, carried by a gentle breeze, whispers through the quiet predawn hours.
The scattered stars in the sky flicker like distant diamonds. The air carries a hint of dampness, a residual touch of the nighttime dew that lingers on the grass beneath my feet. I can hear the faint chirping of crickets in the distance.
As I approach Kyle, his silhouette stands stark against the dark backdrop of the night. The muted glow of a distant streetlamp casts a gentle halo around him, revealing the contemplative set of his shoulders and the down-turned tilt of his head.
I wrap my arms around myself, seeking warmth in the quiet stillness of the moment. The car park is empty, devoid of the usual hustle and bustle, leaving us alone with our thoughts under the silent canopy of the night sky. I join Kyle in gazing at the sky.
“What if he doesn’t make it?” Comes Kyle’s voice breaking the silence.
“Don’t say a thing like that, I’m sure he’s going to make it.”
He inhales deeply, pulling his fingers through his hair and ruffling it. “You know, I have always been angry at him for so many reasons, but the moment I walked into that room and found him lying helplessly on that hospital bed, nothing else mattered. All I could and still think of, is for him to get better and not die.”
