Pieces of us

Chapter Seven

Mom has spent an awful amount of time drying her clothes, I think to myself as I walk down the stairs and step into the kitchen. I find Mr Omar, I mean Mr Bello, in the kitchen helping himself to a glass of juice. I say a quick good morning to him and leave straight away for the backyard. It's not like he'll give me a better response than a nod of his head. What's important to me now is finding my mom.

“Mom,” I call out to her, it's unusually quiet outside. No humming, no sound of Mom moving clothes around, nothing but the faint rustle of the sheets in the wind. The sheets mom washed are hanging there but there's no sign of her. I turn to leave, but a faint sound stops me.

I turn back towards the sheets and try to wade through them,

“Mom?” I call again,

Then I see her, sitting on the floor while leaning on the fence. I immediately rush to meet her

“Mom?” I touch her, she's barely conscious. “Mom? What's wrong?” She isn't responding. “Mom!” I shout, trying to shake her back to consciousness.

“Help me up,” I can barely hear her.

I try to lift her off the ground and we walk a few steps before she slips from my arms and collapses. And this time she seems to have completely blacked out.

“Mom!” I shout, shaking her shoulder. “Can you hear me?”

Nothing.

My heart is thumping hard in my chest, and my hands begin to tremble.

I immediately run to the kitchen to find Mr Omar but he's left. I rush into the sitting room and find him watching TV. He immediately looks up at me, startled.

I stand there desperately trying to catch my breath and form words.

“What's wrong?” He asks, setting down his glass of juice.

My chest is heaving now and I'm trying to not give in to hysteria. “Mom…help my mom…”

Mr Omar immediately rises to his feet and starts to walk towards the kitchen, “Where is she?” He asks without stopping,

“She's at the backyard” I answer nearly breathless as we step out through the backdoor.

“Debbie!” Mr Omar calls as he walks towards the hanging bedsheets.

“She can't hear you” I rush past him and lead him to where my mom's lying. He kneels next to her and reaches for her neck and brings his face close to her nose.

Mr Omar scoops Mom in his arms and carries her towards his car only to remember that he didn't have his key. Mr Jonas rushes over and helps with a chair while Mr Omar goes back for his car key. Every second he is gone feels like an eternity. All the while, I'm hugging my Mom and begging her to open her eyes. Mr Jonas and Mr Omar both help move Mom into the car. I immediately follow and stay with her at the back.

Getting to the hospital took the longest five minutes of my life.

* *

The nurse hangs another bag of IV fluid beside the bed while the doctor checks the monitor again. They have now taken blood for testing and given her medication after discovering how severely dehydrated she has been. Her blood sugar has also been checked, and the nurses keep coming back to monitor her pulse and blood pressure.

She hasn't eaten properly in days. And trying to hide her illness has left her body exhausted. The guilt of not looking after mom well enough keeps eating me up inside. How was she doing so much work while being sick? How did I not know?

Mom's now conscious and responsive although she looks really weak.

Hours later, we're back home. Mr Omar guides mom up the stairs and into our room. I look at him and notice all he's had on are just his sleeveless top, shorts and slippers.

“I'm sorry for putting you through all this trouble, sir,” Mom says to him, barely audible.

“It's okay, Debbie. Don't apologize.” He holds her forearm as she slowly lowers herself on to the sofa. “But please, whenever you feel unwell, just say so. Please…”

“I'm sorry,” Mom says with her head bowed.

I take a deep breath, “I'll fix you something to eat” . I'm talking not just to my mom but to Mr Omar too.

“There won't be need for that. I'll go out and get something for the three of us.”

I look up at him as he walks away.

“Loosen up…” he says to me, “you look like you've seen a ghost,” his face softens into a smile then he walks out and shuts the door behind him.

Fifteen minutes later, he returns with three plates of food. I thank him while trying to fight back tears. But when he has left and Mom and I eat in silence, I let the tears flow freely, silently.