Maria wiped a tear from her eye with the back of her hand. All she could do was stand there, pulling her sweater tighter around her shoulders to comfort herself. There was only a pane of glass that separated her from Mischa, but it felt like she was watching a tv screen instead of a hospital door.
On the other side of the door….underneath the bruises and the blood, that was her daughter. It didn’t matter now, but Maria couldn’t help but feel that somehow it was her fault that this had happened. She knew she shouldn’t have let Mischa get out of the car instead of just sitting and listening to the lecture, but at that moment, she had been too frustrated to stop her.
Nobody could have known that car would run the light at that exact moment.
A nurse passed her, looking like she was on her way to somewhere important, but nothing was more important than Mischa right now. Maria reached out a hand to stop her and the nurse turned back with a questioning look.
Maria: Please, nobody’s told me anything- My daughter, is she alright??
The nurse shook her head
Nurse: I’m sorry Mam, we don’t know anything yet. When the doctors say you can see her, I’ll make sure to tell you.
It was probably meant to be reassuring, but it didn’t feel that way. It just meant that she had to wait longer to find out….Glancing through the glass again nearly pushed her to the breaking point-
That’s not good enough!!-
Suddenly, she felt so tired…
Maria: *Giving up* Oh…Alright…..thank you.
The nurse nodded and went on her way, leaving Maria to just stand there, feeling helpless. She went back over to the door, getting as close to the glass as she could. She couldn’t help it- she covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a small sob. The little window into the room didn’t offer her any comfort; the more she stood there and watched the heart monitor’s erratic throbs, the more she wanted to break the window in her frustration. Somehow it seemed that it was just a mirror, like some Alice-esque horror story. If she broke it, the dream would disappear, she would wake up and things would be back to normal.
As if normal were any better sometimes. Even through her distress, she remembered what started this. She had gotten another call from the school, telling her to come pick her daughter up. The collective system of Jackson highschool was generally lenient, but repeat offenders were not tolerated.
Mischa had gotten in trouble again. Maria didn’t care anymore what she did, she wanted her to stop acting out. There was no reason for it, but it happened, and it made Maria so upset, she could barely think. Every time this happened, they would have the same talk, over and over again.
Mischa was so intelligent. If she would just listen, if she would just try-
But Mischa was tired of hearing it. Maria didn’t want to remember what she said right before she opened the door and bolted right into traffic-
Why are you thinking about this now?? Reviewing it isn’t going to change what happened.
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Her distress had only made her more and more tired until she found herself dozing in the closest chair to the door, curled up like a distraught child.
She didn’t hear the doctor when he said she could see Mischa, but she knew that he was speaking and it meant something not exactly good, but better than this.
The door opened, the glass covered picture of her child turning into a stinging shard of reality, bringing the sound back into her world. She sat in the chair next to the bed, taking Mischa’s small hand in her own, which was trembling. Mischa’s eyes weren’t open, but Maria spoke softly, hoping that somehow she could hear her.
Maria: *she used an old nickname in hopes of getting through* Mikey, can you hear me?
Mischa stirred slightly, but didn’t open her eyes. She tried to keep a tentative smile on her face, but Maria’s eyebrows crept further and further down into a troubled frown. She reached over and brushed the unkempt black hair from her daughter’s eyes, wishing that she had some sort of cloth to clean the smear of blood from her cheek.
Mischa stirred again, muttering something.
Mischa: *barely a whisper* ……Mom?
Maria:*her eyes started to fill with tears*...Honey?
Misha: *her eyes still didn’t open, but she made the effort* Mom, I’m sorry…I’m sorry I said that…It wasn’t true, I don’t hate you...
She squeezed Mischa’s hand, her brimming tears starting to drip onto the floor.
Maria: I know, sweetie….I know.
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