Bond
By Louise
She carefully closed the door behind
her and stepped into the room. Without hesitation she moved towards the single
bed, dropping her purse and coat in a nearby chair.
She stood quietly by his side,
studying his still features. He was pale, except for darker circles under his
eyes. From the gauntness of his face, she could tell he'd lost weight; she
frowned in disapproval. A second later, a tender smile transformed her
expression as she delicately brushed a stray lock of hair away from his
forehead.
She couldn't count the number of times
she'd watched him sleep, witnessed his energy finally contained in slumber.
She'd always treasured those stolen moments.
There was a chair near the bedside and
she sat down, watching his face for any sign of movement. His breathing shifted
slightly, and his head moved a fraction on the pillow, but he didn't wake.
Again, she smiled.
He'd always been beautiful, although
she'd stopped calling him that early on. He'd never been comfortable with such compliments;
even as he'd become world famous, and the declarations of his handsomeness had
come in by the bucket-load, he simply couldn't see it. But she could.
How many nights had they sat on the
porch swing together, talking about his dreams and aspirations? She knew he'd
achieve his goals; there was a spark within him that wouldn't be quenched by
time, hardship or struggle. And although it hadn't been easy, he'd done what
he'd set out to do. She couldn't possibly be more proud.
A soft sigh caught her attention, and
she placed a hand on his arm. He blinked several times, getting his bearings,
and she waited. A second later he
registered the touch and turned his gaze towards her, momentary surprise on his
face.
“Hi honey,” she said. “How are you
feeling?”
“Better since you're here.”
The genuine smile he gave her lit up
her world. He moved his hand to clasp hers and she moved over to give him a
hug. He leaned his head on her shoulder and returned the embrace; nearly a
minute went by before they pulled back.
“Why... did you come?” he asked,
slightly confused.
“Why are you asking silly questions?”
she countered. “Of course I came.”
He closed his eyes for a second.
“Didn't have to come all the way out here,” he mumbled. “It's just some stupid
flu...”
“The flu, combined with overwork from
a ridiculous schedule and not eating properly-”
“I've been eating,” he said
half-heartedly.
“Honey, you're skin and bones. I know
how you eat when you're working, but you have to keep up your strength. You
can't do that with fast food and skipped meals.”
“I eat better than any of the
others...”
“None of the others are lying in a
hospital bed,” she pointed out.
“It's not like I did this on purpose,”
came the tired protest.
“Oh, honey, I know,” she said, giving him
a gentle smile. “I don't mean to blame you, I'm just worried. When Howie told
me what happened after the last show...”
“I'm sure he made more out of it than
necessary,” he sighed, searching for a more comfortable position.
“He told me that you had just
finished, and were back in the staging area, when you lost all color and your
eyes rolled up. He said you just collapsed right where you stood. Is that
true?”
“Well,” he said, not looking directly
at her, “I wouldn't say 'collapsed', I-”
“Okay, fainted. Passed out. Became
rapidly unconscious. Yes?”
He blew out a breath. “Yeah.”
She studied his distraught expression
and realized how very tired he seemed. Patting his hand, she said, “All that's
water under the bridge. What we have to focus on now is getting you better and
out of this place.”
“I'm all for that.”
“I spoke to Dr. Welch, and she said
that as long as your vitals remain strong you can leave in the morning.”
“Really?” he said, a spark of hope
energizing his voice.
She laughed. “The hotel suite isn't
home, but I think it'll be an improvement.”
“Definitely.”
“And I won't be going anywhere until
I'm satisfied you're fully recovered.”
“You don't have to-”
“No arguing,” she said in a tone he
knew all too well. “It's my job, after all.”
He gave a small laugh. “I'm not a
baby, you know.”
“I don't care if you are 95, you will
always be my baby,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Worrying about you is
my job, and I've been doing it from day one.”
“I guess you have, at that.” He looked into her eyes, seeing the
unconditional love that was his cornerstone. “I'm glad you came. I love you,
Mom.”
“I love you too, Kevin.” She stood and
adjusted the blanket around her youngest son's shoulders. She kissed his
forehead and said, “Get some sleep, honey, I'll be back later.”
“M'kay,” he
said as he settled down against his pillow, a small smile on his lips.
She watched him drift off almost
immediately; after a minute, she left the room, her earlier worry gone. He
would be fine, she was certain of it.
Mothers always knew.
