Yes, it was torture living in this quiet country side, I concluded.
"... Barry, I can't wait. We've waited for this for almost two decades now. It's finally clicked and at the right time too" mom was full of beams.
I hadn't caught everything she said, I had been comparing the countryside and the city for a moment in my head.
She dished out the gravy with splendor. I relished seeing her excited. The sheer exuberance and rapture in the atmosphere was comforting and the chandelier at the centre on top seemed to relate too, casting a warm yellow hue on the items on the table.
The chicken breasts, light brown in the kitchen, was golden on the dinning table. The wares glistened and the food seemed to put on a more tantalizing look, the clinking of wares added the perfect finish. It was light, airy and cheerful. I couldn't remember the last time we had an exotic family dinner with joy in the air. The chicken, soft and tender from the oven, was much juicier tonight. I loved it.
"Finally" mom squealed, an excited tint in here voice rang out.
"Ammmyyyyy" father called her softly with a love laced low voice.
She smiled at him.
"Yes love?"
"I don't want more peas!" Tom interrupted with a pout, stomping the fork's prongs on the table, spilling the beans stock and adding an extra layer of dirty green spots to the table cloth.
Dull brown spots against luxuriant green ones.
Father gave an exasperated sigh. Mother was perseverant with him, enduring his attitudes lately, especially that of playing with his food.
"Come on now, Tom, you need those vegetables. Take three more spoons for mommy okay?" her tone was patronizing.
"You keep saying that! I've taken five! Three more spoons" Tom complained.
I watched as mom's shoulders dropped. He was actually right. She kept saying that. Now, the young lad was sick sick of the old cliche, once so efficient in manipulating him.
"I wasn't counting, dear. Let's try that again, shall we? Now that I'm watching" Amy's voice, sweet with the lie.
Tom's grumble turned into a weak groan. He didn't even want half more spoon or a seed. Infact, he hated green beans, boiled or whatever.
Amy threw me a glance, my eyes steered towards Dad, he looked amused.
The morning came unannounced. A sleep, so short-lived, it felt like a two minutes nap. Eight hours seemed impossible for I had only blinked. Time was faster than saying "sec-ond".
Dad was already off to work, at the bicycle repair shop.
"Let's go! Tricia! You've brushed your hair enough.You look breathe-taking, already!"
Amy screamed at me from the living room. Her scream pierced through the living space to my room, at probably two thousand decibels. There was a lace of shrieking fury in it, because it cracked at the end.
" Oo-Oo-Ooh... Oh my God. I'm coming Mom! Just a second!" I hurried. She was right.
How could she have seen through the door because I had been brushing my stubborn hard black hair and one, just one stupid! Strand, wouldn't lay in place like the others. I looked to the door, I had barely even worn my shoes, a nice pair of gray flats resting neatly, on the recently washed German carpet, guarding the floor at the bottom of the door.
" I have to take Tom to the throat doctor! We have to see your uncle in the hospital! I still have grocery to shop! Tricia, don't you pity me for once?" Amy croaked.
I was speechless, I just couldn't see it, besides, I was almost done.
Perhaps it was a thing with teenage daughters and their moms. I felt she was always getting me wrong and my mother, Amy, she felt she could never understand me.
I mustered a smile and took off with her and little Tom towards our destination, a glimmer of hope in my heart.
We arrived at the hospital, a sequel to our last visit about a week ago.
I was good at keeping track of events clearly, chronologically an incredible memory from about age six.
We sat, we waited. The incessant clicking if the digital check in systems at the reception desk, I observed seemed to synchronize with rolling carts, distant intercom pages and the occasional beeping from patient monitors, decipherable from metres away.
Footsteps, so cultured, it was almost a tiptoe, the silence was deafening, an atmosphere looming with uncertainty, death lurking at corners and nurses that looked like they were just perambulating the place, however, they were helping the doctors fight for patients' lives.
There was a strong smell of antiseptic, disinfectant and detergent. A trace of alcohol mixed with bloodstained sheets, medicines, a strange odor, something I'd liken to a pad which had been used and stored. And perhaps, maggot-infested flesh.
Alright, maybe they weren't maggot infected but there was decay in the air, slightly.
Something one could only notice if they concentrated the strength of all five senses into their nose alone.
Bright fluorescent lights drowning the place in a sharp bright contrast, low hums, hushed conversation and of course the people that really determined what the place was, doctors.
"Amelia Everad" a voice called out through the speaker at the top.
Mother prepared herself. It had finally gotten to our turn and we were about to see him, a person I had once known, bright, lovely, kind now bedridden with something unfathomable.
Something even the machines had failed to detect or identify, something that might bring his final end, I shivered lightly, closing my eyes for a second, like I had gotten a sudden cold. I was scared and I prayed hard, that it should be the opposite. Mom stood up, I followed her.