Broken Promises

67 | noah

The amount of guilt I feel shoots through the roof as I drive to Covington County Hospital.

I can't help feeling guilty. My mom is in the hospital, unconscious and alone, because she came to see me graduate, then left town when it was much too late to be driving. I shouldn't have made her stay so long. I should have let her go home when it was still daylight hours. Instead, I'd been selfish, trying to hang onto every moment I could get with her.

I shouldn't have had her come at all. I mean, it'd been my mother's choice to drive to Magnolia Heights to see me graduate, but maybe I should have intervened. I should have told her not to come, that my graduation wasn't a big deal. However, I know that would have only hurt her feelings.

But maybe then she wouldn't be unconscious and in the hospital.

Deep down, I know that what I should have done has nothing to do with having Mom go home earlier or not having her come to visit at all. Deep down, I know I should have chosen to go home with her. I should have been next to her in the passenger seat, right by her side. Maybe then she wouldn't have been in a car accident at all. Maybe then we'd both be arriving at her house right about now, exhausted from the long drive, yet happy and together. She wouldn't be hurt. She wouldn't be alone.

Yet, once again, I had to be selfish. I chose to stay in a town I've lived in for hardly six months, with people who haven't been by my side since birth the way my mother has. I turned my back on her. And now she might not even make it through the night.

In a moment of blinding anger, I slam my hand down on the steering wheel in front of me, releasing a cry of disdain. If I weren't such an asshole, if I thought about anyone but myself sometimes, none of this would be happening. Mom would be fine. We'd be together. She'd be okay.

In the back of my head, a voice whispers that my thoughts aren't truth. I made the decision that was best for me in choosing to stay with my father, and I had no control over what happened to my mother. I tell that voice to shut up, and quickly the thoughts fade.

My thoughts soon turn to Blake. I know I should feel guilty about walking out on her the way I did, especially after having just slept with her for the first time. I can alone imagine how she felt being left alone in a house that's not hers, how she'd felt when I'd been acting strange and cagey without bothering to tell her why. I should feel guilty as I think about her changing into her clothes from the day before, having to go home and face her family, no doubt worrying about me the whole time. Yet I don't have it in me to feel that guilt, because my entire being is consumed with feeling guilt over what happened to my mother.

My mother is in critical condition because some drunk driver hit her in the middle of the night on her drive home, the drive I should have been with her during. My heart aches as I wonder how long it took for paramedics to reach her, if the driver hit her and then drove off, if she's hanging on right now or if the last time I saw my mother will be the last time I'll ever see her again.

My thoughts get the best of me and I'm crying before I know it, struggling to keep my eyes on the road. I pray to whatever gods are listening that my mom will make it through this. I don't know what I would do without her, what I would do if I lost her. I spent too much time being a shitty son, being an ass instead of the son she deserves.

I grip the steering wheel in my grasp so tightly my knuckles turn white as I drive, one thought drifting through my mind on repeat.

Please don't go yet, Mom. Please don't leave me.