Chapter 3 - Room 233

The things I left behind didn't matter to me.

The stuff in my locker-- it was just stuff. My co-workers that stepped back as I parted the red sea-- they're just my co-workers. And my boss... oh, my boss. He's just another person set in front of me to test my endurance; and I had won.

I calmly threw on my jacket, careful to zip it up tightly. I acted as though my silent friends weren't there, whispering and conversing why I was leaving before my shift had ended. I let them talk.

Riding back down my usual route I felt empty. I felt as though a part of my intestines had been vacuumed right out of me, with the exception that was needed in order for me to live. I felt a sudden singe of despair as if something had happened that I could never had been aware of but somehow was in step. I shook my head, realizing it was just my mind focusing on the negatives.

I rounded cloudy corners and cruised down crowded highways. I kept my nose high, proud that I had stood up to the dragon himself, and that I left victorious.

I parked my bicycle in my usual spot, on the sidewalk nearest the building. The doctors and nurses there greeted me, for I was no stranger in this section of the vast hospital.

"Early, I see?" one doctor asked, looking up from behind his spectacles.

"Yeah, kinda," I smiled back, hiding a gleeful smirk. I kept my shoulders high as I slid the cuffs of my sleeves over my frozen fingers.

"Young," I nodded to the nurse at the front desk and signed my name on the clipboard.

She peered up happily, glad to see a familiar face. Then she stopped.

The pen in my hand stiffened. She always smiles unless something had changed for the worst. "Oh, you don't need to sign in," she spoke low.

"Oh," I said, turning white. I gave her a perplexed look and dropped the chained pen back on the smooth surface. "Why?" I trembled, on the verge of losing it.

The receptionist pursed her lips and reached for the phone. She dialed a few numbers. "Yes, hello? Adam is here," she said, tone falling faint as her words continued. Her eyes then caught view of mine.

I blinked, utterly frightened and disturbed by the unknown. My mouth gaped as my pupils ran from the phone to her and the elevator, wondering when they'd move.

"Yes, I'll send him up. Thank you," the nurse peeped softly into the telephone. She took her time to place it back on the receiver without making a noise. "Room two thirty-three," she at last affirmed, keeping a contempt composure.

I thanked her, thoughts dimming the light to my brain. I didn't bother waiting for the elevator, but hurriedly proceeded up the stairs.

I didn't care to grab a sample of hand-sanitizer upon walking in to the Intensive Care Unit. I made a dash for the door, scrambling to gain control of my shaking hands to turn the knob. The door swing open, throwing itself against the opposite wall. I all but died when I saw her.

Thankfully, my mother was still breathing. Whether or not she was breathing at a healthful rate was the question. She wasn't gasping for air, which was a good sign. Her dark brown hair was set in all directions, greasy as ever, wiry as a telephone line. She faced upwards towards the ceiling, blinking every few seconds as if she were immensely drowsy. For all I knew, she was.

"Mom?" I asked quietly.

I heard her huff for oxygen. Clumsily she picked up her head. "Oh, hello," she chuckled lightly, then added a cough, and then another. Soon she was heaving blood on the floor, and I was holding a pan under her clammy chin as usual.

Tears formed in front of my eyes, fogging my vision. I gulped as more red dripped into the container I held until my mother had finished vomiting.

She groaned as her torso hit the pillow. "Adam, I don't know how long I can stand this," she whispered, closing her green eyes.

I began to search her entirely. Though blood trickled from her mouth, I could still make out the subtle dimples that sat in the wings. I suddenly recalled the way they showed themselves whenever I had presented my mother with a perfect score on a test. I remembered the way those dimples appeared when my puppy died, trying to grant an ounce of reassurance.

I refreshed my memory. All I could see now were those dimples... locked away behind the pain my poor mother was feeling inside.

She opened her eyes. I could tell she had had enough of this life and was ready to move on to another purpose elsewhere. She raised her dark brows, a pleading expression revealing itself.

I squinted, finding tears meandering down my face. I wanted to say, "Don't go!" but I couldn't. My throat had closed, permitting any vocal action. My ears popped as my knees shook until they had hit the floor. I fought to inhale just the slightest amount of air to keep me alive.

"N-no...," I murmured uneasily. "You j-just... I could n-never..."

"Adam," she spoke soothingly despite the angels that were calling her by name. One of her spidery hands extended to reach my face. Her thumb brushed away the soft water that fell every two seconds. "You know that saying, 'the early bird catches the worm?'"

I sniffled, still choking, and nodded.

"Well, look at it like this: you are the bird, and I am the worm. You have been by my side at every moment I needed you there. If my segments were ever separated, I'd scream... and you'd be there for me.

"True, being the worm has its downs," she chortled and wheezed. "but the bird is always there when the worm is present. Therefore, you are the ravenous bird to my weakly worm, if that makes any sense."

My knees unlocked as those dimples reappeared as though by pure magic. I gained the strength to wipe away my own tears this time and continued to listen to my mother's sermon.

"And fair is fair," she grinned with pride as my misty eyes sparkled. "You and I left our troubles far behind. To me, nothing comes before you; and to you, nothing comes before me. Now it's time to find someone new to watch over."

The smile that was plastered to my face shifted into a devastated look. I stammered various thoughts, unable to fit them all together.

"Shh," she said roughly. "I have a line for you: If you're the bird, whenever we pretend it's summer, then I'm the worm. I know the part, it's such a bummer, but fair is fair. If my segments get separated I'll scream, and you'll be there."

I mentally shrugged at her lyric-producing skills and allowed her lines of words to float along in my stream of thought.

"And now... now I leave," my mother spoke promptly. "But not without a proper goodbye." She held out an arm, and I squeezed her. It didn't matter if I has crushed her lungs, if I had broken her bones, if I had pushed her heart to the limit.

My mother died in my arms, right where she belonged.

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