3:30pm

55: complications

           <Everything's gonna be alright>

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The stars dotting the sky seemed to be everywhere, most shining with a steady glow while the rest twinkled—looking like a controlled explosion in the far distance.

9pm had come already. I knew because I'd checked my phone a short while ago after Stephen's mom stopped talking.

It was funny how something negative, something involving Stephen's wellbeing, something that put him in danger, was what brought us together. Stephen's mom was a nice woman, a sweet lady actually, and over the past one hour and thirty minutes we'd been talking I'd come to realize this fact.

She didn't hate or judge me like I'd been thinking all the while. She was only a little bit too protective of her son, and I understood why—losing Malone must've been hard enough.

My eyes still on the glare of my screen, I read the numbers in my mind. 9:05pm.

After we prayed with our hands held together, Mrs Grant fell into this state of reminiscence and all I could do was listen. Gaze at her with interested eyes and listen with keen ears as she went through everything about Stephen, right from the time he was born and what it was like the night it happened to when they had to move out of their rough neighborhood when he was still four and Malone six because a neighbor's kid had been shot and paralyzed by a stray bullet. Told me about how Stephen had hated going to elementary school and how he cried every morning before getting on the bus, but then he'd eventually stop because Malone told him to.

It was cute imagining Stephen as a little boy, around the age of six, begging his mom with tears in his eyes not to send him to school.

From the way Mrs Grant made it feel, and remembering all I'd read from his diary, you easily knew Stephen looked up to his brother Malone a great deal. Their relationship came off as a tight one. I could only imagine how hard it was for Stephen and his mom after their loss.

When Mrs Grant spoke, she spoke with dreamy eyes. Eyes that said that yes she might be beside me talking and I might still be hearing her words but she was actually far away from me. In an entirely different world, one that existed in the past, one that had all the good times in it.

Her last words to me before she paused and stared into the distance was, "Stephen as a kid was a really sweet and innocent boy, he was the life of the house, the entire neighborhood even. He still is. I'd like to think of him that way, even after all this."

I'd cautiously taken Mrs Grant's hand in mine a minute after she was done talking and gave it a light squeeze. I was still wary, not that I doubted her or anything, but who knew, maybe she didn't want me hold her hand at that point. Maybe she didn't want any physical attention. But then she'd clasped her fingers with mine after I took her hand and my mind was able to relax once more.

"It's 9:10." I decided to tell her five minutes later, finally moving my gaze from the screen of my phone.

"You know, I do dread going in there," she said almost in a whisper.

I'd been feeling the same way since the moment I got out. For some reason, a reason I was aware of, I didn't want to go in too. Didn't want to hear the news from the doctor or endure all that tension that came with waiting around for someone to tell me if Stephen would be okay or not.

But sooner or later I'd have to go in anyway.

"I feel the same way too," I said to her, casting my gaze to the sleeve of the black top she had on. "But at some point we would have to go in eventually. Plus it's been nearly four hours."