The Come Up

Chapter 36 - Apple Juice

You don't know how much someone means to you until you hear that they've been shot. Like everything you thought they meant to you wasn't even half of what they actually mean to you. You begin to analyze your life with them and realize that you wouldn't be who you are without them. You begin to analyze your life without them and can't imagine it without pain. 

I used to pray for the wrong things as a child. I remember one time, I prayed so hard for a special doll head that was new and expensive. I prayed for it so hard that Mom bought it for me and I played in the dolls hair for a couple weeks and then forgot that I had her.  

But I got the doll. 

It took me a few years to realize that my prayers were answered through my Mother. I guess I was expecting the doll head to fall from the sky. People make God seem so dramatic but I've learned that he often sends our blessings with people, or maybe the blessings can be the people themselves. 

I don't know. 

I sit in room 304 with my Mother's weak hand pressed between mine. She is still sleeping and bandages wrap around her entire shoulder and arm as well as her left leg. I sit in a soft enough couch and cry soft enough so no one can hear me. Still shaken by the nights situations but more than happy that she is still breathing. 

I kiss her hand and watch the steady rise and fall of her chest before there is a faint knock on the door. 

"Yea." I answer softly, steadying my voice and wiping the few tears that escaped. 

"Chanel." A timid but familiar voice answers. The door eases open slowly and a brown skin woman with short and curly black hair peak in at me. 

Trevon's Mother. 

"Hi, Ms. Wallace." I greet with a half smile. She is dressed in her white scrubs and she looks exhausted as the bags under her eyes have grown and her eyes are a little red from lack of sleep. But she somehow looks more concerned about me and my situation. Just like him. 

Just like he would be. 

She walks over to me and extends her hand, I take it and she squeezes it in hers like I am a new born baby. 

"Chanel, I'm so sorry." Ms. Wallace's voice rings with the Brooklyn accent until even her proper English sounds a little like slang. 

I shrug and look away from her face that stares at me with sad eyes. 

"As long as she's alive I'll be fine." I answer sheepishly and scratch at my arm that isn't itching at all. I want her to leave. I want to be alone with my Mother. I don't need to reminded that I am responsible for every unfortunate event that has happened to each person in this room. That's too much, but Ms. Wallace only means well and it would be rude to dismiss someone who only wants to help. 

"I've asked to be reassigned to this room, I'd like to be your Mother's nurse specifically." Ms. Wallace's eyebrows rise up in a slant. Her voice so filled with compassion. She stands at the edge of Mom's bed now. Waiting for my response. 

I look at my Mother, a few tubes running out of her nose, IV dripping in a bag to the side of her bed. I watch her eyes twitch as if she is about to wake up, but it's been doing that for a few hours and she hasn't, so I ignore it. 

"I hope that's okay with you. There are other nurses here that will take care of her but I'll check on her a lot more often and make sure everything is going the way it should b-" 

"Yea. It would mean a lot to have you looking after her. Thank you." I say honestly. 

Trevon's Mother nods her head and takes out her stethoscope and puts it to Mom's chest. As she continues checking her vitals, I lay my head on the bed, right by my Mother's side and fall asleep.