Oh Boy! (BL)

3 - The Choices We Make (1/3)

Throughout the years, I'd lost count of the number of hospitals I'd been to. Whenever mom switched jobs or got transferred from one hospital to another one with staff shortages, there had been new buildings, new wards, new colleagues – but I guess, in the end, they all looked the same. Light lino tiles, grey walls, neon lights, and nurses rushing through communal areas; I'd never been at North Western Medical before, but I felt as if I knew it like the back of my hand.

I didn't know the woman who was running towards me in the hallway, and I was startled momentarily when she drew me into a tight hug. She was short, curvy, her ponytail was a mess of blonde hair, and her name was Lisa. She was the one who called me. Her lips were moving quickly while she was pulling me inside one of the hospital rooms on the fourth floor, but I didn't catch what she was saying.

Not a single word.

Two hours later I was still sitting on an old white visitor chair in a heartbreakingly impersonal hospital room with grey walls, two beds, and a table fit for a maximum of one person on the opposite wall.

Only one of the beds was taken, but I wished it wasn't. My knees had given in when I first lay eyes on the pale figure lying under the light blue blankets on the bed closest to the door. The upper half of mom's head down to her nose was wrapped in blood-stained bandages, there was a cut in her lip, and the bruises on her neck disappeared in a white hospital gown with a pattern of tiny blue dots. If that alone was enough to make my stomach turn, it was nothing compared to the tube they'd pushed down her throat to help her breathe. I couldn't process the image of my tough and lively mom lying motionless right in front of me.

Lisa had tried her best to explain to me what had happened, but I didn't understand a single thing she said - as if she was talking in a foreign language. The only thing that got through to me was the monotonous beeping of the monitors standing next to mom's bed.

"Hey, mom," I whispered; my eyes locked on her bruised appearance. Her hand that was connected to a pulse oximeter was ice-cold when I took it in between the palms of my own hands. Oh, how I wished that she'd squeeze my hand like she used to.

Lisa squeezed my shoulder. "Kenji? Sweetie, is there anything I can get you?"

I looked up at her, feeling numb inside and out. Finally – finally - I was able to ask the question that had been haunting my mind. "What happened to her?"

Her smile was tender and sad at the same time. "It was a road accident on Bailey Street, sweetie. Your mom and two other pedestrians wanted to cross the street when a pickup truck..." She hesitated. "The driver didn't see the red light and couldn't stop in time."

Pressing my lips together, I looked back at mom, who's usually pale face was black and blue below the bandages. "The other pedestrians?"

"That's..." Lisa stopped; her voice dropped. "Kaori was lucky, Kenji."

A chill ran through my body at this information, and I couldn't prevent the tears from burning in my eyes. "Mom..."

Lisa's gentle hands caressed my head. "I gotta get back to work but I'll be right down the hallway, in case you need anything."

Alone in the sterile hospital room, I put my forehead on the blanket that covered mom's legs. My tears painted tiny dark spots onto the fabric while I was breathing in a mixture of the sanitizer's smell and mom's sweet perfume. If it wasn't for me, she'd never even been on that street. The only reason mom would've had to be on Bailey Street was that stupid envelope. The one I had been supposed to take to the bank.

I should've been the one lying here, not her!

"I'm sorry," I whispered in a hoarse voice. "So sorry."

I stayed until Lisa asked me to leave when visiting hours were over. I didn't wanna go - how could I leave when mom was still there? - but Lisa promised that she'd call should anything happen.

I still had my doubts, but there was nothing I could do; so I went home.

The bag mom always took with her to work was lying in the entrance of our dark and lonely apartment, her emptied plate stood on the drying rack next to the kitchen's sink, and the spot where the envelope had been pinned to the fridge was now occupied by a sticky note. The sight of the winking smiley-face on the yellow paper alone made me fall to my knees.

If I had just taken that stupid envelope with me!

If I'd been the one going to the bank...

If I hadn't been the reason dad left us...

With the wall in my back, arms braced around my bent knees, I let my head fall forward. I trembled. I sobbed. But nothing could undo what had happened.

Nothing ever would.

The next days were filled with early hospital visits, school, and afternoon visits to the hospital. I sat next to mom's bed waiting for her to finally open her eyes, but even three days after her accident she still didn't wake up. It weren't her broken legs or the long cut on her collar bone that made the doctors worry.

It was her head.

Falling onto the pavement had made her brain swell, which sounded severe; though, I wasn't exactly sure what that meant.

Most of the time I didn't understand what the doctors were trying to tell me, which made me feel both ashamed and so so stupid. Lisa was patient and kind in answering all my questions but not all of her kindness could help her with delivering the next message.

It was early in the morning, and I was sitting next to mom's bed when Lisa closed the door carefully behind her. "We don't want the other nurses to know that I let you in too early, do we?" She winked at me with her green eyes, but her face was fast to get crowded. "Listen, Kenji..."

I straightened my shoulders; she never used my name. "What's wrong? Is it mom?"

Her eyes widened. "No, sweetie! Nothing's changed!"

Thank goodness! My head fell forward.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you!" She caressed my back and sighed. "I hate to bring this on you..."

I stared at her through my black bangs.

"It's...about the insurance. I made some calls, and it seems your mom is only covered by her part-time insurance at our hospital." Guilt was written all over her face. "Our part-time insurance will only cover a chunk of her hospital fees."

I didn't understand. "But...I thought...doesn't the truck driver have to pay?"

"That's true but...his insurance refuses to pay until they have his statement...and he's still in a coma." No pity on my side. "Until the case is settled the costs have to be covered...by you, sweetie."

I squeezed mom's hand. By that time, I'd already gotten used to the beeping of the monitors and the rustling of the tube...but I'd never get used to the picture of mom lying in this bed — motionless, quiet, without her signature smile. I knew she'd be worried sick had she been awake. "How much?"

"I'll make some more calls. Maybe there's somebody who can help..."

"How much?" I repeated more strictly. I wouldn't accept pity money.

Lisa showed me her calculation.

I gulped. A lot of pity money would've been necessary.

My eyes were dark when I looked at mom again. Now it's my turn to take care of you.

"I need some time if that's okay?" I lifted my eyes up to Lisa. "I'll get the money."

I knew exactly what I had to do.