Bad Boy Judah

f o r t y t h r e e

"Mommy? Why you cwying?"

I must be suffering from shock, because I collapse as soon as I get inside my apartment. I hug myself and let out my sobs.

Ryder's little hands tap my head, wondering what's gotten into me.

I just couldn't understand what had happened? How could it be him?

It's been so long... I believed him to be dead—or at least... I don't know. All I know is I can't deal with this reality.

I lift my head at my boy and clutch him to my chest. He pats my shoulder, trying to comfort me. I try my best to return to my senses.

"Mommy, you sick?" Ryder tilts his head to the side.

I look into his grey eyes and nod.

"Yeah, mommy's not feeling good," I answer, pressing my hand into my chest.

He pokes my hand and asks, "Heart hurt, mommy?"

I nod, "Mommy's heart is sick. Do you have medicine?"

Ryder looks down at himself, and then turns to his backpack. I watch him get busy to find something that'll cure my illness. In the meantime, I wipe my face dry.

He returns and climbs into my lap. He plasters a Band-Aid I had previously packed for him on the back of my hand, like a true doctor. I give him a smile for his genuine efforts.

"Oh, thank you," I say softly, passing my hand through his hair.

"Better?"

"Yeah, mommy's all better," I kiss him.

Though, my questions still linger. I try to distract myself by thinking about what to make for dinner. What to pack in Ryder's lunch the next day—a lunch he won't throw at other kids. Speaking of medicine, I have to make an appointment with Ryder's pediatrician. I must also go get his inhaler refilled. I get up, thinking about all the things I need to do.

♠♠♠

"Table 13!" Deidre yells.

I quicken my pace, yet keeping my balance. I'm on my way to the 11th table, handing out their drinks.

"Can I get some service please?" somebody calls out in the background.

"Table 14!" Deidre yells.

I place the drinks to each customer.

One guys points, "Uh, I didn't order this."

"Oh, sorry," I recollect the tall glass of I don't even remember anymore.

Oh my God. Work is getting to me.

"Hello?! Rosalie! Table 13 and 14! Hurry it up!" Deidre's loud voice smites my ears.

I suppress my groans.

I smile at the guy, "What did you order?"

"A Corse Muscat."

"Right. I'll get that for you right away," I say.

Just as I turn and walk, a woman stops me.

"Excuse me? Can we get some more breadsticks?"

"Breadsticks. Of course," I rush.

I enter the kitchen, grab a basket of breadsticks. I jog over to the bar section.

"One Corse Muscat," I tell Kirk.

I wait for him to pour the wine glass. I take it and place it on my tray.