“Sir, I think you should go in now.”
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She turned around and carefully pulled the door closed before she left.
“I don’t think there is a parent out there that doesn’t love their child.”
The nurse’s words rang through Victor’s head like a taunt. His eyes darkened, taking on a faraway expression as memories of his childhood resurfaced. He keenly remembered the day his grandmother had come to fetch him from the dilapidated ruins that had been his home and taken him to the Sullivan family’s mansion.
It was the same day the car accident had happened. He’d been so young then, standing barefoot in the corridor of the hospital, outside the operating room. He stood there for half an hour, silent and waiting, until the doctor finally walked out. With a grim expression the doctor said softly, “I am sorry… We tried our best.
Please tell your elders to prepare for your mother’s funeral. Again…
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I’m sorry for your loss.”
That was all the doctor said before he left.
Victor didn’t even know how he made his way out of the hospital. He remembered nothing of his journey home, nor the sights and smells around him. It was like his little world had gone dark. Nothing but the doctor’s words rang inside his head. He hardly remembered stepping into the home where he and his mother had lived together.
Through his numb grief, he somehow found her diary, and in it, a phone number.
He remembered that his mother had once told him to phone this number if anything ever happened to her. She’d told him to tell the person her name.
He didn’t know who the number belonged to.
ALL he knew was that he had to call someone to handle his mother’s funeral. She couldn’t stay in the morgue. He’d been in there once and it had been so very cold… He knew how much his mother hated the cold. He knew she wouldn’t want to stay in there.
Like a good, obedient little boy, Victor dialed the number and waited until the call was picked up. The voice on the other end belonged to an elderly woman.
“Hello, who’s speaking?” The voice was soft and gentle, soothing in a way he had never expected. He hadn’t cried when his mother had passed out from blood loss. He hadn’t cried when the doctor came to tell him his mother was gone. But now, hearing that gentle, kind voice, tears finally sprung to his eyes and streamed down his cheeks.
He cried so hard that the tears dripped off his jaw and onto the diary, blurring the phone number that had been written there before.
“Hello? Is there someone there?” the woman said.
Victor sniffed in a deep breath to try and calm himself. He gripped the phone tightly, trying to keep the quiver out his voice as he said his mother’s name and then everything else.
The woman on the other end of the line went silent.
She was silent for such a long time that he thought she may have already hung up. The only thing that told Victor she was still on the call was the slight crackle on the line.
“Where… Where are you right now?” the woman said in a voice that sounded ever so slightly excited, but Victor could tell she was crying.
Victor’s little hand curled on the end of the diary. His fingers shook, and his skin was pale. He held onto the paper so tightly that his knuckles went white, making it look as though it had taken all his strength to speak.
“My mother,” he choked on his words as he glanced down at photo in the diary. It was of him and his mother. They were standing in front of a fountain together. She had her hand on his shoulder and was smiling gently at the camera.
“My mother is dead…”
Suddenly, there was a loud bang from the other end of the phone. The woman was silent for a while before she said in a trembling voice,
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