Outside the Hospital

Outside the Hospital

Lydia watched her son from the window that separated the patients from those in the waiting room. The edge of her coffee cup rested against her bottom lip. It had already gone cold. She looked him with unfocused eyes, not really seeing him on that chair, connected to endless cords. God, did she hate hospitals. There was too much white, especially for a children’s ward. Sure, there were some flowers and a couple rainbows, but they were all plastered on solid white walls. The lights were just a little too bright. And it wasn’t those yellow-warm sunlike lights but the white-blue LED lights that made her feel inexplicably uneasy. But it was the people that fueled her terror.

It wasn’t the doctors and nurses. So far, they were great; they only wanted to help her son. It was everyone else that set Lydia on edge. Her son was surrounded by children of different ages in different stages. Some had just started treatment, so they still looked alive. Most of them had already gotten their heads shaved. But it was the other group that scared her most.

Lydia cast her eyes to the last row of children and forced a gulp of watered-down coffee down her throat. She thanked several higher powers that the doctors had caught Arthur’s sickness early. It could have just as easily been him sitting in those chairs. Everyone there to comfort him, but no one there to really see him through to the end. These children had families, of course, but other patients’ mothers would usher them away, as if what they had were contagious.

Lydia bit her lip when her eyesight got blurry. She shifted her attention to Arthur. She thought he had a strange way of knowing when she was upset. When she looked at him, he waved back with a large smile that showed off his two missing teeth. He waved back enthusiastically. She smiled back and gave a single wave, but her lip trembled. She needed a minute. She needed to get outside. Lydia turned away from the window and nearly collided into the most dedicated mother in the ward, Susan Baker.

“I’m so sorry!”

“No worries, I snuck up on you,” Susan chuckled. She carried a blanket, a pink teddy bear, and a couple of books. She looked fresh compared to Lydia, who hadn’t showered in quite a few days.

“You did. I thought you weren’t coming in this week.”

“Oh, no. Next week. We’re going on a short vacation. I thought Sophia needed a break from everything. You know how it is,” Susan said with a wide smile that accentuated the wrinkles around her eyes.

“A break would be nice, but Arthur’s on a pretty rigorous treatment,” Lydia reminded her. Susan’s daughter, Sophia, was nearing the end of her own treatment after almost a year.

“Oh, I know how that goes. He’ll get there, Lisa,” Susan encouraged her. Lydia nodded, not caring to correct her.

“Well, I’ll see you later. Sophia’s getting set up,” Susan said and gave Lydia the best wave she could given all that she held in her arms. Lydia watched her stroll into the room, set the items next to Sophia, and give the doctor an enormous hug. Susan was known for being a dutiful mother. She would sit and read to Sophia and the other children, even those from the other wards. Sometimes she brought snacks or an extra blanket because other parents were more forgetful than she was. Susan was a good mother. What was Lydia compared to her? All she did was stare at her son from the outside in. Why couldn’t she bring herself to go in there?

A dull throb began a slow drumming in her temples. Was her hands shaking from the caffeine or something else? Her throat seemed like it would close up at any second. She needed air; she needed to leave. She needed a break, just for a minute or two. I just need a minute to relax, she decided. Lydia threw her tasteless coffee into the nearest bin and hurriedly walked down the corridor. She passed by a few couples, some single mothers and fathers, doctors, and nurses. Though they were all a blur, she felt their eyes glance at her as she went on her way. Even when they fell behind her, she felt their gazes pierce her back. She wondered if they could see into her soul, hear her thoughts as she fled from the ward. The question they all kept to themselves burned in her mind: Why is she leaving her son?

At the automatic doors, she heard a familiar voice call out: “Lydia!”

She turned around to see Elise holding her son’s hand, heading the parking lot. Lydia took a breath and did her best to smile.

“Hey, Elise. Hey, Marshall, are you all done for the day?”

“Yeah,” Marshall said quietly. He hid behind Elise, both of his hands holding hers.

“Yeah, he did great today. Just a quick checkup with Dr. Gilmore,” Elise beamed.

“Dr. Gilmore’s the best,” Lydia agreed. Elise furrowed her brows for a moment.

“Oh! I have something for you,” Elise remembered and fumbled through her purse with her free hand. She pulled out a white folded up piece of paper and handed it to Lydia. She unfolded it and read its contents.

“Seriously, Elise? A support group?”

“I found it really helpful. What’s the harm in trying it out?”

“I’ve done groups. I’ve done more groups than anyone attending those things, and I deal with things better on my own,” Lydia said. She tried handing the paper back to her friend.

“Take it. Maybe you’ll change your mind.”

“I’ll think about it, but I can’t make any promises.”

“You won’t regret it… Well, Marshall and I have a date to get ice cream later, want to join us? Around four, maybe.”

“I don’t think we can make it. Arthur probably needs to rest after his treatment, but thanks for thinking of us,” Lydia said. Elise reached out and touched Lydia’s arm, giving it a small squeeze.

“Next time, then,” Elise promised. They walked through the automatic doors and waved goodbye to one another as they parted ways.

Lydia finally made it outside. Breathe in, breathe out, just like the doctor told her. Use your surroundings to ground yourself, she recalled him say. She focused on the warmth of the sun and the sounds of sirens on their way to the hospital. But then her attention was drawn to a familiar smell. Walk away, a voice reminded her.

She made her way down the sidewalk and found herself at the designated smoking area. Lydia reached inside the pocket of her hoodie and held the packet in her hand. In her other hand, she held on to the flyer. She had meant to walk away, but, as usual, she was drawn right back to this godforsaken space. Lydia sat down on the bench. She pulled out the lighter. On. Off. On. Off. She flicked it mindlessly, effortlessly.

At times, people walked by the smoking area on their way into the hospital. There were parents who recognized her. She tried to ignore their stares. This wasn’t the first time they had seen her there. She imagined this wouldn’t be the last. She put the flyer down next to her and opened the pack of cigarettes. There were only three left.  She pulled one out and put it to her lips. Her eyes flicked up to the sound of new footsteps approaching.

A young mother pulled her toddler away hastily yet hesitantly. She seemed like she didn’t want to offend Lydia, but she needed to take her kid away from the smoke. Lydia knew this feeling. At first, she felt guilty for not quitting after she had Arthur. Of course, she didn’t smoke when she was pregnant. It was hard. The closest thing to torture she had experienced. She was happier after she quit, thankful that she no longer relied on them to ease her worries. But then Arthur got sick. And the anxieties crept back under her skin and dug deeper into her mind.

Lydia flicked the lighter on and held the flame to the end of the cigarette. She breathed in and blew out a stream of smoke. Her head leaned back, and her shoulders relaxed. Everything was calm. She was finally at peace… until a gust of wind blew the smoke back in her face. She sputtered. Her eyes burned. Tears started to form. Her hands frantically fanned the air around her to get the smoke away. She heard something fall to the ground. The flyer Elise gave her flew away with the wind.

Lydia tore after it, leaving her lighter and pack of cigarettes somewhere behind her. She chased the flyer through the parking lot, sidestepping the parked cars so she wouldn’t set off any alarms. It would just be her day to cause a scene like that. When she finally caught up to it, she stomped on it and stooped over to pick it up. Lydia took in a couple of deep breaths to calm down from her chase. She held the flyer in one hand before her and studied it.

The flyer had a rainbow with children and parents holding hands under it. The group met every Sunday afternoon after the 11:00 A.M. Mass at St. Joseph’s church, another place Lydia never liked. She looked from the flyer to the cigarette still burning in her hand. She brought the dying cigarette to her lips one last time.

She drew in a breath and slowly let the smoke escape her lips. Then she took the cigarette from her mouth, flicked it on the floor, and crushed it underneath the sole of her sneakers.

Lydia turned back to the hospital and walked straight back to her son.