Their Days of Nights

45 : Rest

Kimberly

I unwrap that cheap charger that I bought earlier. I search the wall behind the plastic chair I'm on.

"Can I charge my phone here for a bit?" I ask my mother as I crouch down to reach the electrical outlet.

I look up at her, and she shrugs at me.

I plug in my phone anyway. I need to have it at least be able to locate Benjie later.

I sit back down and mimic my mother's posture. We're side-by-side, facing a boring white wall.

Then I try to fish more information from her about what happened this morning.

She says that today is actually my father's scheduled annual physical check-up, so they were bound to the doctor after all. But he started feeling light-headed and was having pains in his chest, so they immediately went to the Emergency Room.

"But what's really wrong?" I ask. "I thought he's careful and watchful of his health now?"

My mother doesn't answer me.

Maybe he relapsed, I say to myself.

Maybe he's back to his old habit of alcohol consumption, or he's no longer religiously taking his medications.

"It might be the stress," my mother quietly says. "The spike in his blood pressure..."

She stops talking when she sees a doctor approaching us. He's most likely my father's doctor.

He says to my mother that she can see my father now.

They leave me here alone in the waiting hallway, with the tote bag of the things my mother had me fetched from the house.

I sigh and slouch. The wall is getting more boring every second.

My phone receives a message.

Benjie: I went outside. At the coffee shop across the street.

Me: OK

Benjie: I'm with Jay.

My mother comes back, takes that bag with her, and starts walking toward the patients' rooms area.

It's just me and the wall now.

But then she returns. "Kim, you should go home," she says. "You haven't slept yet. Your brother will arrive there tonight."

I nod. I also don't do anything else nor move.

She just stands there, holding the straps of the tote bag with both her hands. "I know you're still mad at me," she says. And she sounds exhausted. "After what happened that last time you're home. But this means a lot to your father. He knows you're here." She nods, drops one hand from the bag, and starts walking away.

"I'm not mad at you," I call after her.

She stops and turns around.

"I mean, not anymore," I add. "I'm still getting my head around it, but I'm...not totally really mad."

"Thanks, Kim." She even tries to force a tiresome and tiny smile. "Your father's going to be fine, but they want him here overnight for further observation."

"Okay," I say with a yawn.

I stretch my arms, gather my phone with that charger, and leave.

It's two twenty-two in the afternoon. If we're following what most people consider their normal body clock, this is the counterpart to the dead of night. So, my body is screaming for rest.