Anna

CHAPTER ELEVEN


We silently ride up the elvator to our floor, our minds trying to collect all of the things that are happening to us and mom.
When the doors open to floor eight, we retreat into the hallway our thoughts cluttered with so many others that trying to think right seems incomprehendible. I look at dad to see if he knows at least where his room is. He does but he can't seem to swipe his card through the lock. I take it from him and do it myself. The door clicks and I push it open. Dad still seems lost, so I guide him in, give him a hug, and kiss him goodnight.
As I walk into my own room the emptiness filling it up so much that I just want to lie in my bed and cry until there is no tear left. But I don't. Instead I walk over to the window by it and look down at the cars below. I watch as each one waits for a pedestrian to cross, the headlights lighting their appearance as they pass into the night.
As I watch I count remembering as many great times of my life with my parents as I can before another car passes. The highest I get to is eight. Pretty soon though I get sick of it and walk into the bathroom quickly brushing my teeth then walking out into the hallway towards the elevator.
There is only one person who can give me the comfort that I need. But before the doors open I realize that I have no idea what his floor or room number is. I am just about to turn around when the doors open and there he is. I feel a great deal of relief come to me. When he looks up I walk into those welcoming arms. I press my face into his chest and cry, my tears, again, staining his shirt. And he says those words that never work. "Everything is going to be alright." But my everything are not right. My everythings have been washed away by the fear that any moment my mother will die. My everythings have disappeared.