theinkwell writing challenge | Season 2 Week 2 | "That Day"

We were wrong about her. We were wrong about him. We are all wrong about that day.

Around 4 am in October 17, 2020 I woke up because of the reflected light from our living room which flooded into our room and the soft noises of my parents. Open. Close. And I open my eyes once more.

Shoot! She'll go back to her province today. I have to at least say goodbye, my subconscious say.

I curl up in a ball, underneath my sheets and shifted my weight on the other side. I was so sleepy and last thing I remember my eyes closed and everything went dark while murmuring, "Get up. Get up. Get up."

5:41 am. I heard the ringtone of my father's phone when somebody is calling him. I was going to go downstairs to tell him that his phone is buzzing. Then, it stopped. I heard the voice of my father while answering the call.

"Whaaaaaaaat?", my father's voice echoed.

Shivers run up and down my back because of the loud noise. I lighted up the whole room and rushed downstairs and then recognized a very familiar voice from the call.

"We had a vehicle accident...", a voice from the other line.

"What happened? Where are you?!", my father exclaimed.

My father happened to be sleeping in our living room because we only have a single room which is occupied by my three siblings and me. I sat down in our wooden more than 10-year-old chair while listening to the conversation without saying any word. My three siblings went down and did the same thing.

Dug dug dug. My heart beats so fast to the point that I thought it's going to come out from my mouth.

"...I'll feel a pain when I move my body", she continued.

"Oh my G-", my father was never expecting this moment to come, even a single soul from any of us.

It was the first time I saw my father very vulnerable. A 50-year-old big man cried over the unfortunate news.

9:00 am, my father and older brother went to the hospital to transfer her to another hospital. However, when they reached to the place, the receptionist declined the reservation for it involves medicolegal.

So, they went back to the initial hospital and because of lack of attending doctors, they have to find another hospital for the third time.

Fast forward.

My father went back home. I ask him about the situation. He immediately break down and cry. I tap his back and put my head on to his shoulder.

He said, "She's really in bad situation. She had some bone fractures."

He grabbed his phone out from his pocket and let me saw the X-ray image. I saw four cracks somewhere in her ribs and pelvis and my father points it out while crying.

We were wrong about our father. We were wrong about him. I haven't seen him cry like a baby in my entire life. He is so strong and very composed but that moment, he lose it. He brokedown in front of his children. Whenever he talked about my mother's situation, he always cry. It may be in our kitchen, living room or bedroom. That was the time when he doesn't know what to do financially but aims for one thing which is her recovery.

Monday evening. My father decided to transfer her to a public hospital and ask the doctors for the possible solutions. The doctors didn't advice to do a surgery for it will be more complicated.

Around 2 am, I noticed that someone wants to break in to our room. Dug dug dug, here we go again with this heartbeat.

I nervously turned the doorknob to open it and I saw the sad face of my father. I was scared and thought it was a thief behind the door.

I ask him about the situation. He just told me to go back to sleep and we'll talk about it tomorrow morning while grabbing his pillows from the bunk bed and came out from the room. He was sad. He was about to cry but was able to recover.

Tuesday morning. He told me that he succesfully transferred her to the public hospital. "It was a torture", said he.

"...I cannot stay with her for a long time because of strict hospital rules due to COVID. The moment she went inside her room, was also the last time I saw her.", he added.

Noon of the same day. My father came to a decision to bring her back to our house because the doctor said that surgery would be too complex and sort of dangerous. And the doctor just prescribed her with two pain killers and a calcium tablet.

Afternoon of tuesday. My father called and said that they are getting closer.

And then... I saw her. She is wearing a blue-violet hospital dress and looks at us, me. I hurriedly hug my mother while she is laying in the bed and ask her, "How are you? Do you feel any pain?"

"Thank God. I was given a chance to see all of you.", said she.

I look at her. I look down at my toes. Back to her. Back to my toes.

We were wrong about her. We wrong about her being the person who always take care of us because, at this moment, she needs to be taken care of the most. We wrong about her that she will be always on our side because we almost lose her, my mother, my best friend. We were wrong about her being a happy person because today, as she moves, it is so clear that she is enduring the pain.

But above all, we are all wrong about that day being just a normal day. I should've just woke up and bid my goodbye when she left the house and wish that it might change the whole situation or might as well I should stop her from going.