A Strange State of Affairs Ch. 22

            The car sped recklessly along the highway.

            Fye drove daringly now.  He no longer needed a map �" he knew the directions by heart.

            El stared at him, noticing the taut muscles that stood out in his neck and face.  He was nervous and scared �" he had reason to be.  His mother was in the hospital.

            Elevine knew that Fye’s relationship with his mother had always been fragile.  His father had died in a boating accident and his mother had remarried to a wealthy businessman.  And Fye, the only child of the Celis family, had shunned his new father and half-siblings.  Thus, he left the family.  The family break-up had been on the global gossip channel for weeks.  El nervously kneaded the car seat.  How would this confrontation play out?  Her mind flashed back to something Fye had said before the Tellurim Gallery Show:

“It’s one of the biggest shows of the year.  Everyone’s going to attend.”

“Well, almost everyone.  I don’t think my mother’s coming…” 

            “This is no family of mine.”  The words echoed in Fye’s mind as he drove.  He wished that he could turn back time and swallow his words and foolish young pride.  Maybe then Ma wouldn’t end up like how she was now, in the hospital, in her condition.

            They plowed on.  The night sky darkened from blue to black and then grew lighter.  Elevine watched the sky transition from black to dusky red, then from red to brilliant gold.  The pearly moon left slowly, only to be replaced by a red, staring sun.

            At last, Fye turned off the highway.  They were back in Puri again.  He maneuvered through the traffic and arrived at Nest General Hospital.

            The artist parked, killed the engine, and opened the door.  El meowed pointedly and Fye gave her a look.

            “Alright,” he conceded, “Come along.”

            El purred, hopped onto his shoulder, and curled up happily.

            Fye quickly fixed his hair in the car window and adjusted the position of the small cat draped over his shoulders.  “You’ve got to stay quiet, ‘la.  I don’t know how the nurses will feel about cats in the sick ward.”  He donned a pair of dark sunglasses and entered the hospital.

            The nurses at the front desk ceased their giggling when they saw the tall, brown-haired man walk in.  They drank in his appearance, from his black canvas shoes, to his dark jeans, to his crisp collared white shirt quickly cuffed at the elbows. They took turns peering into his dark glasses to see if they could identify this handsome, oddly familiar stranger.

            One woman was braver than the rest.  “Can I help you?” she asked coyly, twirling a piece of hair around one finger.

            El glared at her freckled face from Fye’s shoulders, then remembered that she had to remain hidden.  She reluctantly retreated.

            Fye was unfazed.  “I’m here to see Mrs. Norah Celi-um, Menuetti.”

            The nurse fluttered her lashes at Fye, all the while clicking around on a computer and searching through the hospital’s clinical records.  “And your relationship to Mrs. Menuetti?”     

            “I’m her son,” he replied, “Fye Celis.”

            The nurse gaped.  “Well, then!!”  She handed him a pass to wear around his neck; Fye threaded it through the belt loops of his jeans.  “Take this with you.  Room 520 on the third floor.”

            Fye thanked her and walked off.

            “Come back if you need anything!!” she called beguilingly.  The nurses behind her shrieked with mirth.

            El rolled her eyes and snuggled deeper into her perch with a cranky meow.  Women.

            Fye smiled nervously and patted her.  He yanked his glasses off and entered the elevator, punching the button for the third floor.

            They journeyed down the third floor hallway, breezing past dozens of red, numbered doors.  A few patients heard Fye’s frantic footsteps, staggered to their hallway windows, and peeped at him through the blinds before going back to their beds to lie down and stare out of the floor-length glass window that opened onto the bustling scenery of Puri.

            “520,” announced Fye, “Here we are.”  He knocked twice, opened the door, and stepped in.  “I’m here.”

            A tall man with short grey hair stood when he saw Fye come in.  He quickly straightened his tie and rumpled grey shirt.  “F-Fye.”

            Fye stood stony-faced and stared at his stepfather.  “Hello, Mowells.”  Even after all this time, he still couldn’t bear to call him “father.”

            A young woman appeared behind Fye.  “S’cuse me, do you mind?”  She held a tray of food in her hands.

            Fye scooted over and the woman caught a glimpse of his face.  She hurriedly set down her tray.  “Fye?!”  She stared at him, and then turned to Mowells.  “B-but you…D-dad…huh?”  Her hands nervously reached up towards her thick golden hair and began to twine the soft curls around her fingers.

               Fye smiled.  “You’re looking well, Mao.”

            She blushed and the pinkness erased her dark freckles.  Mao absentmindedly tugged at a sleeve of her orange dress, embroidered with a swirl on the edges.  She scuffed the floor with the toe of her brown sandals.

            “Where’s Takuma?” Fye asked, “I thought he’d be here with you.” 

            “He, um, he went home to grab some of his school books.  And Mira went with him,” Mao replied.

            “I see,” Fye murmured.

            There was an awkward silence, broken quickly by Mowells.

            “Your mother’s been asking for you,” he said, “Go on in and see her.”

            Fye walked into the room. 

            His mother lay on a bed in the far corner, surrounded by beeping machines.  The curtains were drawn over the window; only a lamp on her bedside table lit the room. 

            The rest of the room was furnished not unlike a hotel; there was a small living room, with a dinner table in the adjoined kitchen.

            Fye slowly approached his mother and laid a hand on her arm.  “Ma.”

            Elevine quickly hopped off of Fye and curled up on the bedside table.

            Mowells and Mao exchanged glances and cautiously walked closer to Fye.

            The woman on the bed stirred weakly.  She opened her eyes and pushed a few strands of her limp, bobbed brown hair from her eyes.  “F…Fye?”

            The artist stared at his mother, observing the details of the face he hadn’t seen for so long.  She still had the same dark brown hair (which he inherited), the navy blue eyes, the bronze skin (which he also shared).  Yet her face held a testament to her years; new lines were etched around her eyes and her laugh lines were more pronounced than ever.

            “Yeah, it’s me,” he sighed.  Fye took his mother’s hand.  “How’re you feeling, Ma?”

            Elevine watched Fye talk to his mother and she began to hope.  A tingle started in her paws and racked her with excitement.  Maybe he could fix this soured relationship.

            “I didn’t think you would come to see me,” Norah breathed to her son.

            Fye sighed and pressed her hand to his face.  “Ma, I was in Oaku when I got the news.  With Pona, and with Vert.  You remember Vert, right, Ma?  Vert Vrai?  They’re getting engaged, Ma.  Did you know?”

            She nodded.  “Pona told me once.  She’s a nice girl.  I’m happy for them.”  Her eyes widened suddenly.  “Did you just say you drove all the way down from Oaku?”

            Fye nodded.

            “But that’s so far!!  It’s so dangerous to drive so far on the highway, Fye; I know how bad you are with directi-“She flinched in the middle of her sentence and began to cough.

            Fye hurried to the kitchen and fetched a glass of water.  He handed it gently to Norah, who sipped it slowly.

            “Don’t overdo it, Ma,” he said with exasperation, “Take it easy.”  He took a deep breath.  “Ma.”

            His mother looked up at him.

            He continued.  “Ma, when…when I heard about your condition, I…I realized that it wasn’t right to leave things the way we did.  If I were a better son to you, I would never have left.  I would…I would’ve come to terms with your…decision.  I’ve been a bad son.”  He looked down at the ground, red-faced and fists clenched.

            Norah’s eyes softened and began to shake with tears.  She gazed lovingly at Fye, who was unable to meet her eyes.  “Fye…”  She reached out and touched his arm, then pulled him in and firmly embraced him.  “Fye, I’m so s-sorry.”  She began to sob, the tears soaked up by his shirt.  “I-I’m s-so…sorry, Fye.  I haven’t b-been f-fair to…you.  I’m s-so sorry!!”

            Fye gently patted her back.  In her arms, he felt just like a child again.