Hard to Hold On

chapter Two



Nolan



The wait has been endless. It’s the evening of my mother’s surgery but by the passing hours and the looks of things as the nurses rush up and down the hallway, I know something’s gone wrong.

Mills left before nightfall because he couldn’t bear with it. She’s been in there all day. I was told she would be done by six but it’s now nine at night and I still haven’t been updated on how she’s doing. It reminds me of the time when my father was in the hospital. Since then I’ve hated being anywhere near one but I don’t want to leave until I know for sure that she's alright.

After a few hours, my head tilts back and my eyelids become heavy but I force myself to stay awake. I take a glance down at my phone as it vibrates and a text message pops up.

Bunny: Is everything alright?

Reading her message makes me cringe inside. I can’t answer because I don’t know and I don’t want to give her a bullshit reply that may get my hopes up. I don’t know if my mother is going to recover from the surgery. I don’t know anything right now.

As I shut the screen off, an older man with mussed grey hair comes into view from around the corner. As soon as he spots me, his gaze saddens. I stand quickly, watching as the familiar doctor carries himself forward with slow strides.

“I’m hoping you have good news,” I sigh.

He swallows, his Adams-apple moving down and then up beneath the blue fabric he’s wearing. “Mrs. Iris was doing fine in the beginning. Everything was running smoothly and she was breathing . . . but then she just . . . stopped.”

I stare at him, wide-eyed as my heart pauses before reaching the next beat. “Did um . . .” I shake my head and fight myself to get the words out. “Did she pull through?”

He swallows again. Placing a hand on my shoulder, he leans forward and blinks rapidly. “I’m sorry, but she didn’t. There was a high risk and the lung surgery failed, Mr. Young.”

As he says it, I feel like a bullet has just hit my chest. I feel the cold running from my fingers to my toes. It feels just like it did when my father died . . . maybe even worse this time because both of them are gone and they’re never coming back.

“I’ll give you some time—”

“Can I see her?” I ask before he backs away.

He hesitates, looking me over. “Her body isn’t in good condition. I don’t think that would be best.”

My lips press together as I glare at him but as I think on it, maybe seeing her isn’t so wise. If I see her lying down breathless, I’ll feel the emotions. I don’t want to feel the emotions yet. Right now I still feel numb and feeling numb is better than feeling anything at all. It hasn’t hit me yet.

“You can come by tomorrow for the papers,” the doctor murmurs. “We’ll be sure to take care of the body.”

He claps my shoulder twice before pulling back and walking off. I watch until he’s completely out of sight before turning slowly and pushing against the glass door to get outside. The feeling in my chest hurts like hell. There’s an ache—a hole, and I don’t know how to fill it. My world has literally just shattered.

As soon as I get into the car I smell her rosey scent. I fight the tears that come along with the memories. The teasing as I hug her. The way Mills and I used to make fun of her purposely just to get her to laugh after Dad died. It won’t be the same without her. It was already hard without my dad. He was my role-model in life. I looked up to him so much. He gave me my start in life and even with my music. After his death it seemed as if everything had crashed and destroyed but this . . . this is so much worse.

Mills is going to hate what I have to tell him but I have no choice. He was more of the momma’s boy than me. He spent more of his time with our mom than our dad so I know it’s going to kill him.

As I crank the Altima and head home, the numbness is still intact. I can’t seem to make myself cry or wrap my mind around it. I don’t want to face the truth. She’s gone and now we have no one to call our parents physically. We have nothing to hold onto but the memories.

It’s killing me but I can’t feel again. I can’t hold onto the freedom I once had before.

Everything feels completely demolished.