The Pediatrician's Closet

Post-Mortem

One of his longtime patients died, followed by a second that died unexpectantly early in the following morning due to complications of the nasty virus that had been going around. With his longtime patients, he had developed a sense for when death was coming, and always stayed the night with them when he felt it. But the second one simply had a compromised immune system and had just got hit too quick. It had come like a punch in the gut to him. No time to prepare.

Due to that, he got home sometime around five in the morning and landed face-first in that brother-smelling couch, out cold. He didn't even dream, though the heavy, dank darkness followed him there, dragging every existential dilemma he'd ever had back to the surface.

He awoke a nameless amount of time later on his side with Wataru sitting next to him on the floor, playing some weird RPG robot game that was popular. The familiarity of the sight eased him. Of course, Wataru would be there. Somehow, it was the youngest of all his brothers that had the best awareness of Masaomi's state of being. He always knew when Masaomi had a bad night at the hospital and made it a point to always be there when he woke up. It was one of the reasons Masaomi always kept his door unlocked.

Tired, hungry, bogged down like a man caught in a swamp of mud and moss, he let his hand slip onto Wataru's soft head, soaking in that comfort. It was something he had never grown out of since Wataru had been a baby.

Someone was moving pots in the kitchen. Cleaning dishes, it sounded like. After glancing at him, Wataru called out in their direction.

"Big sis, he's awake."

"Oh! Okay. I'll get the pan on."

Ema. For the first time, he wanted to leave the comfort of Wataru to curl up at her feet. Maybe she'd let him sit in front of the fridge like he had when he was sick while she cleaned and cooked or whatever she was doing. But even if she would have, he couldn't find the will to move.

After a few minutes, Wataru paused his game and lifted a hand to Masaomi's atop his head.

"It's alright, bro. You did your best."

He sighed. It never felt like he had. Wataru knew that. Even now he kept thinking he should have thought of that child when the virus was first introduced to his clinic. It had been such a mean one, even on adults. Of course it would have affected her, as fragile as she was.

A plate holding a set of rolled omelets and strawberry crepes topped with whip cream was set in front of him, followed by a steaming mug of tea.

"Wataru said it was your favorite," said Ema, who hesitated before putting her hand to his bedraggled head, so lightly he hardly felt it.

He took in her khaki green shorts and red baseball tee, not thinking.

Then she sat down next to Wataru, handing him a second plate, and accepting the controller from him so she could play while he ate. After a minute, Masaomi sat up to take her offering from the coffee table and take the first bite of crepe. It had been forever since someone had made this for him for breakfast. Ukyo would not hear of dessert for a meal so early in the day. The sweet taste of strawberries burst across his tongue, bringing another surge of comfort. Only a few bites in and he felt like he was going to cry.

Wataru made quick work of his crepes, however, and sat back to watch Ema play. Masaomi enjoyed the companionable quiet, filled with the low background music of the video game as he swallowed his breakfast down the rock in his throat, then hugged the tea. As he brushed his mouth over the warmth, he wondered if this is what it would be like if he had a child with Ema—if they became a real family. Would they know when he had bad nights and sit next to him until he woke up with strawberry crepes? If not, surely they would let him melt in the same room as them for a bit.