The Call

When I hang up, I sit on the bed, my gaze fixed on nothing. I can feel my mother’s eyes on me, watching with sadness. I know it’s because of the diagnosis, but knowing her, I think she’s also dreading what I’ll have to tell Dylan later.

“Mom,” I say, finally breaking the silence. “Can you go sign the papers? I… I’ll get dressed and follow you in a bit.”

She stands up slowly, grabs her bag, and heads toward the door. I know she wants to spend every moment she can with me, but I need a moment alone.

“Mom… I love you… thank you for being my mother.”

Her voice breaks as she nods. Without another word, she opens the door and steps out.

As soon as the door closes, the tears come, silent but endless. I don’t sob or sigh—I just cry and cry.

The hospital isn’t far from home, less than thirty minutes with good traffic, but those almost thirty minutes feel like centuries.

“Mom…” I say in a shaky voice. “When we get home… can I ask you to leave us alone? I want to tell him… but…”

“Of course, honey… I… I love you…” It’s the first time she’s said it so openly.

When we get home, she helps me into some more comfortable clothes, and then, putting on her coat, she steps outside, closing the door softly behind her.

I sit on the couch, waiting. I need a moment of calm and silence before the most difficult conversation of my life. I look up and see my reflection in the black TV screen. The face looking back is young, but broken.