Bret wanted to ask something, to scream something, but it felt like Superman was squeezing his throat.
Dad pulled the car up to the back door of the hospital. He didn’t even look at Bret, just at Jacey. “Stay with your brother. Stay away from the lobby. I have to talk to Sam in Administration. I’ll meet you in the cafeteria in ten minutes, okay?”
Jacey nodded.
Then Daddy was gone, running off ahead of them, and Jacey and Bret were walking down the empty hallway in the back of the hospital. Their footsteps echoed, and it was creepy. At every noise, Bret flinched.
She was dead. He was sure of it this time. When he got to his mommy’s room, the bed would be empty, and it would be too late for him to see her …
He yanked away from his sister and ran toward his mother’s room.
“Bret—come back!”
He ignored her and kept running. At his mom’s room, he skidded to a stop and pulled the door open.
There was Mommy, lying in that old bed just like always. Asleep.
He stumbled. It was only because he was clutching the doorknob that he didn’t fall.
He didn’t know which emotion was stronger: relief that Dad hadn’t lied, or disappointment that she wasn’t awake.
He shut the door quietly and went to Mommy’s bed.
It still scared him, to see her like this. Even though she was still pretty, and Daddy had shown Bret the important things—like the rosy pink on her cheeks and the way her chest rose and fell with every breath—
All good signs, Daddy always said.
But to Bret, she looked like she was dead. He had to keep telling himself that she was alive.
It’s still her, Bretster. You remember that.
He tried to take strength from Dad’s words. His dad, who wouldn’t lie, said Mommy was alive … somewhere.
Bret moved in closer and climbed up the bed rail, leaning over her. He was so close, he could feel the softness of her breath against his eyelashes. Then he closed his eyes and tried to think of a happy memory of her.
Well, I guess any boy big enough to saddle his own horse is old enough to go on an overnight ride … I’m proud of you, Bretster.
He knew the memory would make him cry, and it did. All he could think about was the way she’d dropped to her knees on the cold cement floor and hugged him. He missed her hugs most of all … maybe even more than her kisses.
He heard the door open behind him, then the soft sound of his sister’s footsteps. “Come on, Bret. Dad told us to meet him in the cafeteria. ”
“Just a sec. ” He leaned a little closer and gave her the Mommy Kiss, just exactly how she always did it to him: a quick kiss on the forehead, one on each cheek and a butterfly kiss on the chin, then a longer kiss on the right side of the nose. While his lips were brushed against her nose, he whispered the magic words: “No bad dreams. ”
When he drew back, his heart was hurting. A tear leaked down his cheek and splashed on Mommy’s lip.
And, very slowly, she opened her eyes.
Bret almost fell off the bed.
She eased up to a sit and stared at him. He waited and waited, but she didn’t smile. “Well, hello, little boy. ”
At last she smiled, but it was all wrong.
It wasn’t his mommy.
Bret opened his mouth; nothing came out. All this time, he’d waited and prayed, and in every dream he had, his mom said the same thing when she woke up. How’s my favorite boy in the whole world? And then she’d sweep him into her arms and hold him like she always did …
Tears burned his eyes.