Page 74 of Holly Ever After

The room is empty, save for Brenda lying there, hooked up to an array of machines. She looks so fragile that my heart constricts. But when she turns her head and sees me, her face brightens.

“Holly! What a lovely surprise.”

Despite her situation, her eyes are as warm as ever. They hold a glimmer of relief, as if my presence has lifted a weight off her shoulders. I approach her bedside and take her hand gently.

“How are you feeling?” I ask.

“Oh, I've been better,” she chuckles softly. “Come sit.”

As I take the seat next to her bedside, I can't help but notice how much she's changed since the last time I saw her. Her once-vibrant red hair has faded into a soft, muted shade, peppered with streaks of silver. The skin on her arms appears thinner, more translucent, like delicate tissue paper. There's a sort of frailty in her presence, one I've never seen before. But despite these changes, her eyes are still the same—warm, comforting.

“What happened?”

“It was only a wobble. I hit my knee, but my son is dramatic and demanded I come to the hospital.”

“Did you slip on the ice?”

“Please,” she scoffs. “I could run on that ice since I was a little girl. I fell in your parent’s house, who were so good for looking after me. My balance just kind of…went.”

She’s so vulnerable looking back at me. Far from the feisty woman I remembered. I know her and Sean struggled throughout the years, but she was always kind to me. I still remember when she braided my hair every time I went by to see her. I realize now that the smell on her breath was Vodka, but as a child, I was none the wiser.

“It's so good to see you,” she says, her voice tinged with affection. “Sean will be so happy you're here too. He's just busy talking to those damn doctors.”

A lump forms in my throat, tightening its grip with each passing second. “Those doctors are here to help you.”

She snorts softly, her eyes narrowing. “Help? All they do is poke and prod at me, telling me I need more tests, as if I'm some sort of lab rat. I'll tell them what I need.”

I smile at her spunk. “I know it's frustrating, but they're just trying to make sure you're okay.”

She waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, I know. I'm just not the most patient patient.” She looks at me closely, a nostalgic glint in her eyes. “So, how's college going? Have you picked a major yet?”

My heart sinks. I haven't been in college for six years. I take her hand and meet her eyes, offering her a gentle smile. “Actually, I graduated a while back. I write books now. That's my job.”

There’s a glimmer of confusion crossing her face, muddling with the warmth in her eyes. She waves it off with a soft chuckle. “My memory isn't what it used to be it seems. But that's wonderful. You always had a notebook strapped to your side. I’m glad you’re still writing. Sean has a business of his own, you know?”

“Yeah?” I ask, fighting the sting behind my eyes as she squeezes my hand. For the first time her gaze lights up with nothing but pride.

“He’s a good boy. He takes good care of me, even if he’s always trying to get me to a doctor. He has no patience with them either.”

“Like mother, like son, right?”

“Exactly.”

For the next while, we just talk. We reminisce about the good old days, laughing over the antics we all go up to as kids. I'm reminded of summers spent climbing trees and the one disastrous attempt at a homemade go-kart that ended in all of us being grounded.

“Do you remember the time you all tried to bake cookies and ended up turning my kitchen into a flour war zone?” Brenda asks, chuckling at the memory.

“How could I forget? Sean kept blaming me for the mess, but he was the one who started it.”

Eventually, I steer the conversation back to a topic I know we can't avoid. “I know you don't like it, but the doctors are really here to help. Please, let them do their tests. For Sean, if not for yourself.”

Her face tightens. “I've lived a long life. I know my body. These doctors, they're so young. What could they possibly know?”

“They know medicine. They've seen countless cases, probably some exactly like yours. If there are treatments that can help, wouldn't you want that?”

She sighs, her eyes meeting mine. They're filled with a complex mixture of stubbornness and vulnerability. “You remind me of my Sean. Always wanting to fix things, make them better.”

I squeeze her hand, my voice soft but insistent. “Then let us fix this. Let us help you get better.”

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