Cinnamon (Shooting Stars 1)

"She's still confused, suffering from traumatic amnesia. It's best you don't directly confront anything she says for the moment. She's like a patient with an open wound, but don't worry, she'll soon emerge from this and be fine."

"Thank you,." I said and I entered.

Mommy was lying with her eyes open, her head supported by a large white pillow. She seemed smaller, paler to me. It brought tears to my eyes.

There were flowers in a vase on the stand beside her bed. I thought Daddy had sent them. but I looked and saw there was no card. It was probably just something the hospital did.

Mommy looked at me as if she didn't recognize me for a moment and I wondered if I had done such a good job of changing my personality that even my mother was confused. Then she smiled.

"Cinnamon," she said reaching up for me.

"Hi. Mammy," I said. I quickly kissed her and pulled the chair closer to the bed. "How are you feeling now?"

"Very tired." she said. "Have you seen Sacha today?" she asked without taking a breath.

"No. I just came from school. Mommy."

"Oh, right. I've lost track of time." She smiled. "I don't even know what day it is. What day is it?"

"It's Thursday, Mommy."

"Good. good. That's how many days now?" Her eyes blinked rapidly.

"How many since her birth. Cinnamon? Three, four?"

"Three," I said.

"Three. Good. Every new day brings more hope. We've got to worry for a while, but she'll be fine, won't she?"

"Yes. Mammy, she'll be fine."

"Good." She closed her eyes. And then she opened them abruptly. "I want your father to get one of those baby monitors... you know, where you can hear if the baby cries? Of course. I'll have her sleep right beside us when we take her home, but even after she's out of danger, older. I want to have that. Too many babies die of crib death or choke on something. When you're that small and fragile... it's just a good idea, isn't it?"

"Yes," I said.

"Remind him, remind your father. He's so forgetful these days."

As if talking about him brought him to life, he called. I picked up the phone.

"Cinnamon. I'm glad you're there already. How's she doing?" he asked.

"The same," I said.

"Right. Don't worry though. The doctor assures me she's going to make a full recovery."

"What time are you arriving. Daddy?"

"I'm not sure at the moment. I just found out I've got to go to Brooklyn for this meeting. I was under the impression it was here in Manhattan. That's going to add at least an hour to my travel time."

"Can't you get out of it?"

"It's pretty important. Heavy hitters," he added.

"Mammy's been hit pretty heavy," I responded. He was silent a moment.

"She doesn't even remember if I'm there or not at the moment. Cinnamon."

"That doesn't matter. You'll remember you were here," I said sharply.