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CHAPTER 12
One hour after closing , IK wasn’t back yet. Florence was beside herself with worry. She couldn’t keep herself calm as she paced the small confines of her roadside shop. Florence rubbed one sweaty palm nervously against the other as her eyes remained glued to the road, scanning every commercial bus that rolled by for her son. He should be back by now!
Florence came out of her shop, avoiding the small puddle of water on the floor – an aftermath of the downpour of rain barely an hour ago - and walked a few steps to the shop directly beside hers to check the time for pr
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Florence wiped the tears that rolled down her cheek with her left hand as she bit hard on her shaking lips, almost drawing blood. She was on pins and needles, there at the waiting room of a family friend's hospital, waiting for word on her son's state. Florence wiped at her cheeks again as she stood up from the stiff hospital bench for the umpteenth time, feeling restless. She could hear the wild beating of her heart, she could see nothing but the tears that clouded her eyes; but when her gaze became clearer, all she could see was the image of her son lying painfully lifeless in her arms.
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Florence stood at the door of the hospital ward as tears streamed down her face. Her lips shook wildly and she made no effort to stop the tears flowing down her cheeks. She walked slowly into the room, staring at the hospital bed, just a few steps away. Her bloodshot eyes were blind to the two other occupants of the room, as she walked like a zombie towards the bed that held her interest. She got to the bed and stared through streaming eyes at the frail form of her son lying on the bed, unconscious. She ran her eyes over his pale innocent face as tears made a fast trek down her hot cheeks. No! She couldn’t accept this. Never in her wildest dreams and nightmares did she even imagine that her son would be a candidate of an hospital ward, looking like a complete shadow of himself. Leukemia… Cancer of the blood… The doctor’s words echoed in her ears, causing her chest to squeeze
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“C’mon, give mummy a smile” Florence muttered with a weak smile on her face. We’ll be back very soon, I promise” Florence murmured as she crouched before her kids. Pastor Peter and his wife stood behind the children. Their small travelling bags and school bags had been carried inside but still, the children were not smiling. Solomon looked on the verge of tears. Barely two years old, Solomon was too small to be left alone. Visha stared mutely at the ground, while Sandra had a deceptive calm look on her face. Her pride wouldn’t allow her show just how much this was affecting her; somehow, that was more heartbreaking than even Solomon’s tears.
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Sandra pulled the shirt of Solomon’s uniform above his head and frowned as her stomach grumbled. She was terribly hungry turned to Visha, seeing her struggle with the button of her skirt. She popped the bottom and Visha pushed down her skirt. “Lovey, I’m hungry”“Me too” Solomon seconded.
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Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours, hours to days, and days to weeks… Sandra knew the sound of silence. It is the loud echo of nothingness which deafens the ears even when there are voices all around. There was a stabbing pain in her little heart that wouldn’t go away, no matter how hard she tried. She should have talked to him when she had the chance. She should have told him how much he meant to her; definitely should have told him that she loved him so much. She should have been there, been there with him in the hospital, holding his hand as he grabbed ferociously onto the reins keeping him alive. She should have been the cord that held him together; she should have been his anchor… like he had been to her, her whole life.
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