Lips Like Coffee

cup: 37

PEN

Splashing water on my face, I sighed heavily as I leaned over the sink. I glanced into the mirror, watching as water dripped from my face. The bags under my eyes were a clear symbol of the metaphorical weight I was carrying. I was tired of seeing the same four walls in different rooms. Hospitals had become my new prison.

Grabbing a paper towel, I dried my face then left the bathroom. Kitty and Iris looked up from their conversation as I sat in a chair next to the bed. Their voices were low as they started chatting again, and I closed my eyes as I grabbed Mama's hand.

She laid still on the bed as she slept, and I focused on the sound of the heart monitor. With every beep, I couldn't help but clench my eyes tight. I was waiting for the worst, the imminent and inevitable.

"Alex, baby," Kitty's voice made me open my eyes, "Iris is going to get Emi."

My eyebrows came together as I stared up at her. Her blue eyes looked as tired as mine. She stayed here with me for the last two days, and got just as little sleep as I did. We both needed to rest.

"You go home," I said, grabbing her hand and pulling her to me.

She sat across my lap and held my face between her palms. "You're coming with me."

Tilting my head up, I kissed her lips and she relaxed her body on mine. I drew back from her slowly, then moved loose strands of hair away from her lips. Kitty giggled as she leaned her head on my shoulder. She kissed my neck, and raked her nails through the back of my hair.

"Kitty, please stop," I said, moving away from her touch. "My dying mother is right next to us."

Pulling back to look me in the eye, she poked her bottom lip out in a pout. "I'm sorry. I got carried away."

"Go home, get some sleep."

This time she sat up on my lap and stared at me with furrowed eyebrows. "I'm not leaving without you."

My head tilted forward as my eyes narrowed. "Yes, you are."

Kitty stood up from my lap; her body was rigid as she grabbed her purse from the couch. She gave me a parting kiss on the cheek, then left the room with a soft click of the door. Once I was sure she was gone, I rested my elbows on my knees as I pushed my fingers through my hair. It was getting harder to keep this up. So much was happening at once there didn't seem to be a good time to end things.

I couldn't keep dragging Kitty through my life problems. Especially when I wanted someone else by side to walk through them with me. She deserved so much better than me, but I didn't know how to make her see that. Kitty saw something in me that I didn't understand, and she wasn't willing to let me go so easily.

With a quick shake of my head, I sat up straight then turned toward the bed. Taking Mama's hand in mine again, I rubbed circles into the wrinkled skin with my thumb. As much as I wanted her to make it through this, I knew she had been fighting this battle for too long. Screwing my eyes shut, I rested my forehead against the back of her hand.

A lump had formed in my throat as tears slid down my cheeks. My chest heaved as I struggled to withhold my cries. I was a four year old boy again, clutching at his mother's hand, hoping to hold on to what little life she had left. Hearing her final words echo in my head: 'Don't cry, my little flower, you'll find a new sun to help you grow'.

Now the flame of my second sun was going out, and I couldn't help but feel—it was all my fault. I knew I couldn't do anything to prevent it, but if I was a better son it wouldn't have happened. As a child, with my birth mother, I was always hard to handle: stubborn and head-strong. Maybe she'd still be here if I wasn't so difficult. If I hadn't been a hellion of a teenager; if I hadn't gone to prison, maybe Mama wouldn't be in this bed. I wasn't able to take care of them they way I should have.