Watching Her Chapter 26 - Pandora

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Chapter 26 - Pandora - Hercules Animated Series
Once she opens the box, all the miseries will be revealed.

Taking a deep breath and setting my shoulders as if I'm preparing for battle, I look down.
"My mother is dying." 

I blink and tip my head up to look at the ceiling, hoping, praying, that when I look down again, the words will be different.

I look.

They're not.

I feel cold all over, but deep down inside there's this scalding, boiling sense of rage and despair at the utter unfairness of it all. I turn my head and glance out the window and fight the pull to run straight to her house and beg her to let me … do something. Anything. I don't even know the rest, but I don't need to.

I vowed to help her. A silent promise made only to myself, sure, but a promise nonetheless.

If I thought I was scared before of finding out what Bella's going through, these four words have left me paralyzed. From anger and sadness and worry over her, and dread over everything that I still have yet to find out, it's almost too much.

My heart races and my hands shake. I scoot up on my bed so that I can rest my back against the headboard … I know I'll need the support. I can feel exhaustion spreading, weighing heavy like a wet blanket, but I know it'll be a while before I'll be able to sleep.

Not at all ready, but unable to wait any longer, I begin to read again:

This is the first time I've ever admitted it to anyone. It's as hard as I'd thought it'd be, though somewhat easier, too, honestly. I imagine that has to do with the fact that I'm writing it instead of speaking the words. If I say them, they're a part of the air around me and I can't take them back. Writing them is different. I can rip up the page, or burn it, or throw it away and pretend I didn't write them if I can't see them, but saying them out loud makes it too real. 

But sheis dying. A little bit more every day. She could go today, tomorrow, next week, next month, or it might be years from now. I honestly don't know which thought scares me more.

She's not here though, not really. I should let her go, I just don't know how. 

She's not sick; she's just slowly fading away. 

I guess I should go back a bit and tell you how we got here, huh? Sorry, like I said, I ramble. 

We moved here from Phoenix … me, my mom, Renée, and my step-dad. You might know him, he's um, kind of famous I guess. Phil Dwyer? You know, the pitcher for the Seattle Mariners? I know you play soccer;do you play baseball, too? Do you like baseball? I used to … well, before, but that's a story for another time. One thing at a time and all, you know? 

Anyway, a little over a year ago, Mom was in an accident. Well, she collapsed in the middle of the street because of a brain aneurysm, so I guess technically it's not an accident, but I don't know what else to call it? Episode? Whatever you want to call it, it's fucked up. To make a long, painful story (that I might tell you sometime if you are still with me after this) brutally short, Mom's here … but only in body. Or at least that's what the doctors and Phil tell me. I can't make myself believe it even if I know in my heart they're probably right. 

She's been in what's called a Permanent Vegetative State since the accident, or well a few weeks after she collapsed she has been. First she was in a coma … as if that's any better, but in some ways it was. I guess it's that word 'permanent' that gets me. At this point, it's hard to say. 

I don't know, Creeper, I get so fucking angry sometimes. I mean she kissed me goodbye, told me she loved me before she left to walk to the store to get some fresh tomatoes for dinner, and that was the last time I saw my mom … as my mom. 

In the span of an hour I lost everything. The only family I had left, my sense of home, of where I belong, all of it. Gone, because of something we couldn't even prepare for. 

You asked a while back why Forks? Phil got traded to the Mariners and since I'm not eighteen yet, though I will be in a few months, he didn't want to leave me and Mom in Seattle while he's in the middle of baseball season. Forks, as I'm sure you well know, is quiet, so small it's almost off the map. It suits his need to keep Mom's condition out of the spotlight so to speak, and he doesn't have to worry so much about leaving me and Maggie, especially with the hospital right here. The press in Phoenix was kind of crazy when it first happened. Phil was pretty popular, but since he'd played there for so long, once the initial stories were out, they gave him, and me by extension, space. Phil was worried that being new to Seattle might bring everything up again and Forks is far enough away that the press shouldn't bother us here. It's been a little over a year so it's not really a huge story anymore, but Phil thought it better to be safe than sorry. 

Mom's condition, God I hate that word because that makes it sound like it's something she can just get over, paired with Phil's um … well, he has a lot of money, make it so that we can keep her at home. I begged him actually, not to keep her in the hospital. I want to be with her as much as I can, and I want her surrounded by things she loves … her favorite faded blue blanket, a painting of the Arizona desert, the horrible country music that we never turn off, the ceramic coffee mug I made her when I was eight that I painted the Eiffel Tower on because she said she wanted to visit Paris one day. 

The doctors, Phil, the nurses Maggie and Kate, all tell me there's no hope of recovery, but I don't, I can't, believe them. I can't let her go because if I do, there's no one left. What happens to me when she's gone? 

So, Creeper, that's why I go outside every night. I stay by her bedside and talk to her, read to her, sometimes I sing to her, because I can't believe that the vivacious, energetic, sometimes flighty woman that was my mother is just simply gone. I won't. But there are times being inside makes me feel like the walls are caving in, like I'm being buried alive. Going outside for those few hours is the only time when I feel like I can breathe. 

I was so angry at you when you came inside here that first time. I was terrified I'd lost my escape, my chance to forget, just for a little while, how close I am to being completely alone in this world. I hated you at first, I really did. 

Now look at me, spilling my darkest secrets to a stranger. But you're not really. I think you are the only person that might get me. I don't know why I feel that way, and to be honest it scares the living daylights out of me to admit it, but I'm not scared of you. And even scarier than that? I trust you. 

What are you thinking right now? I know you can see me. Sometimes I wonder if you see me better than anyone else, even myself. You certainly spend more time watching me than anyone else. 

I'm tired now, so I'm going to stop here. 

If you come back after this, we can talk some more if you'd like. 

I hope you do come back. I don't feel so alone when I know you're out there.

Thank you for that. 

DG
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