I start to reach for the cup of water next to my bed. ‘Like I’ve been hit by a motorbike.’
She leaps up to get the water for me, waits for me to drink, then sets the cup back down before sitting once more. It’s such a motherly act.
‘I’m surprised you came,’ I say after an awkward silence.
She shifts in her chair. ‘Did I make the right choice with the transfusion? Is that what you wanted?’
‘Yes. I wanted to live.’ I swallow. ‘That’s the reason I left—to live.’
She draws a shaky breath. ‘In this temporary world?’
She’s relentless. And I don’t expect anything less from her. ‘We both have to live in this world.’
‘For now.’ She looks around the room. ‘And this good news of the kingdom will be preached in all the inhabited earth for a witness to all the nations, and then the end will come.’
‘Matthew 24:14.’
Her eyes meet mine once more. ‘Surprised you still remember.’
‘Hard to forget. Hard to let go. I suppose that’s why I still have a blood card in my purse.’
We watch each other for a moment.
‘I should go,’ Mum says with a sniff. ‘Bridget’s keen to see you. I hardly recognised her at first. She’s a proper woman now.’
‘An amazing woman.’
She purses her lips. ‘Is there anything you need before I go? Something to read, perhaps?’ Before I can answer, she picks up her handbag and pulls out a copy of the latest Watchtower and Awake, placing them beside the water jug.
‘Oh.’ She can’t help herself. ‘Thanks.’
‘There’s an interesting article in the Awake about food.’ Then, seeing my face, she adds, ‘I could grab you something from the newsagent if you’d prefer.’
The corners of my mouth lift. ‘It’s fine. Thank you.’
Her face contorts, and she inhales sharply. ‘Sorry.’ She attempts to compose herself.
I know how hard this is for her, how torn she is between being a good disciple and being my mother. I know she loves me. I reach a hand out to her, but she doesn’t take it.
‘Mum,’ I say quietly. ‘I know you have to go. I know nothing has changed. Hold my hand before you leave.’
She brushes a tear away with one impatient swipe, then takes hold of my hand.
‘It’s all right,’ I tell her. ‘I understand. It’s okay. You can go.’
Her eyes are brimming with tears now. ‘I’ll tell Bridget to make you some broth. I’ve seen the meals coming out. They won’t help you heal.’
I nod. ‘Sure. Okay. Thank you.’
She releases my hand and takes hold of the strap of her handbag. She’s struggling to leave.
‘You said yes to the blood,’ I tell her. ‘It’s more than enough.’
She nods, sniffs. ‘I’ll keep praying that you find your way back to Jehovah. “Return to me, and I will return to you.”’
‘Malachi 3:6.’
She looks around as if she might have forgotten something, because that’s easier than looking at me. ‘You have my number if you need anything. Medical information, that sort of thing.’