It had been two weeks since I had come home from England. Mom wasn't recuperating, even after we attempted every treatment possible along with a surgery which presumed helpful, but did nothing. I didn't want to accept what was happening or going to happen, but I was forced to face reality last night.
I recalled hearing moaning during my slumber. I ignored it, thinking it was just a figment of my imagination; I always had unusual dreams. I heard the cry for help once again, and I felt compelled to get out of bed. I peeked my head in my mom's room, seeing her bed empty, ruffled sheets where she was supposed to be. I became anxious, knowing she wasn't permitted to move on her own. The noise returned and I followed the sound, shuffling down the stairs. I conceived Harry's bare back near the bottom step, hunched over in a crouching position.
"You're gonna be okay, I'm gonna get you help," he spoke. Beyond his body, I noticed limp legs stretched out. It was then I came to realize what had occurred.
I rushed towards them, kneeling beside Harry. His reaction deemed slightly surprised by my sudden presence, but I didn't have the time to analyze his reaction. She barely sat up, her back being supported by Harry's arm. She struggled to breathe, beads of sweats forming at her forehead.
"I-I can't breathe," she panted. "Everything hurts."
"Harry, call 911," I said. Harry immediately ran to the kitchen to retrieve the phone.
"Mom, what were you doing out of bed by yourself?" I asked.
"Water, I just...wanted water," she breathed.
Everything afterwards was simply a blur in my mind. All I remember are the modulations of ambulance sirens and the faint vision of my mother with a breathing mask and her weak body being lifted on a gurney into an ambulance truck. The sight made my heart shatter into pieces I would never find again.
Now, I sat in a chair adjacent to my mother's bed. She lay sleeping, flat on her back, hands at her side. The repeating sound of the machine that read her heart rate was the only noise that filled the eerily silent room.
Austin and Harry remained in chairs on either side of the window. Austin drifting off into a deep sleep himself, Harry hunched over in his seat with his face buried in his hands, attempting to absorb the situation. He ran his fingers through his already disheveled hair, partially from his sleep, partially from repeating the action multiple times since we've arrived.
"Ella?" a weak voice spoke.
I instantly turned my attention to the bed, noticing mom had woken up. Her eyelids lay heavily over her eyes as she glanced over at me. "Mom, I'm right here."
I felt an instantaneous proximity on either side of me, Austin, fully awake, prostrated on my right and Harry, filled with distress, on my left.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered.
"Mom, you have nothing to be sorry for," Austin joined in. "None of this is your fault."
She slightly shook her head in disbelief. "I promised you both that after your father left - "
"And you're living up to that promise," I began. "You always have, and you always will, no matter what happens."
I perceived a man enter the room, a doctor. He wore the routine long, white lab coat, along with the traditional blue scrub suit underneath. He held a clipboard, scribbling notes as he approached us. He seemed a bit young to be a doctor; he didn't look much older than Austin.
"Mom, I'll be right back, I'm gonna go talk to the doctor, okay?" I informed her. "Austin, come with me."
I got down on one knee next to the bed where Ella's mum lay as Austin and Ella left to dicuss what was need to be discussed with the doctor.
"Hi, Mrs. Warrington," I politely greeted.
"Hi, Harry," she grinned tiredly. "How are you?"
I let out a short laugh at the fact that she asked me how I was doing. "I'm fine, but I think I'm the one who should be asking you."
"We all know how I'm doing," she stated.
I gave a her a sympathetic smile, in which she returned. There was momentary silence before she grabbed my hand, glaring at me.
"Harry, I'm going to ask you to do something for me," she said firmly.
"Okay," I replied hesitantly.
"Before Ella and Austin's father died, he had a journal. A journal about us, our family. And I never showed it to either of them."
"Why?" I questioned, becoming confused with these suddenly new-found facts.
"I have my reasons," she countered. "It's in my bedroom, in the nightstand. It's buried underneath a bunch of papers. I want you to give it to them after I'm gone, okay? I want them to read it."
"I don't think - "
Her grip on my hand tightened. "Harry, please. I need you to do this. Promise me."
I brooded her request, going over the responsibility of doing this, and also knowing this in less than two minutes.
Her eyes bored into me, pleading for assurance. They reminded of Ella's; undeniably beautiful. Which is why I couldn't refuse.
"Alright," I nodded.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"You're welcome."
"Harry, do me another favor?"
I looked at her expectantly.
"Make my daughter happy."
"So, for the next few days, just get her out of the house, makes sure she has fun," the doctor finalized.
Austin and I acknowledged this, in addition to the other discoursed information.
"If anything else happens, just call," he said before leaving the room.
I heaved a sigh and turned to Austin, his expression proving he was feeling what I was.
"Three days," he repeated. "That's it?"
"Well, it could've been a day, it could've been today. I think three days is pretty lucky," I said, trying to make the best of the situation.
"I guess you're right," he shrugged.
I glanced over at Harry and my mom, noticing that they were getting along well. Harry met my eyes, giving a genuine smile.
I conveyed a warm grin. "Thank you," I mouthed.
"You're welcome," he replied graciously.
There was a snapping sound near my ear. "Hey, hi, I'm still here, talking to you," Austin reputed, annoyed.
"I see you, calm down," I retorted, irritance in my tone.
"Listen, don't let this guy take over your life."
"Okay, one, no one has the ability to take over my life, two, don't pretend you know everything about relationships, and three...he's not 'some guy,' he actually means something to me," I retaliated. "Even if I don't know what that is."
