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Drabble #06- Parent
Adam was sick.
Like most times Adam was sick, he tried not to let the world in on the fact, working through it, exercising until he burned it out. He never rested, even when he should. But flu season was going strong in Henrietta, and Adam was now of an age that he no longer received healthcare at the government's dime, which meant that his own shots were no longer up to date.
At first he was fine, but as the symptoms grew worse, he became more and more sluggish. People in class talked about him behind his back and to his face about how he was slipping up. How disgusting he was. But Adam met the insults with the same stoic demeanor he always did, brushing off Gansey's quiet concern, Ronan's mothering, and Blue's insistence as if they weren't there.
It wasn't until he was so bad that he was staggering through Monmouth, nearly late that Gansey finally took a stand, calling an ambulance. He was met with the news that he was spiking a fever off 104 degrees and doctors forcing him to rest. He found he didn't care for once as the others crowded around, obvious that they had skipped to make sure he stayed in bed.
He eventually fell into a long sleep to the assurance that Gansey would pay the medical bill, where he met twisted versions of his family. His dad, sneering from the darkness as he taunted him, I knew you couldn't make it on your own. But there were also things that were laced in that felt like memories, but they were things he knew had never happened. His mother staying with him in his room the whole day, shushing him and making sure he was as comfortable as possible. Once upon a time, maybe, but those days were long gone. The memory was too vivid for that. What clinched it, though, was a song he'd known she'd never sung, but Adam grasped to it like a life preserver, wanting the love and affection of a time long past.
He woke up some time later in cold sweat, delirious and hooked up to an IV bag. Gansey, Ronan, and Kavinsky slept in the corner of the room on chairs that didn't look the least bit comfortable. Calla and Jimi were at a small table, quietly playing a game of cards. Blue wasn't there, which told him that she hadn't been allowed to ditch school.
The strangest part of all, though, was the dark-haired vision of Maura Sargent, sitting in the chair next to him, holding his hand and stroking it lightly, while softly singing to herself. Faintly, he realized it was the song from the dream.
Adam tightened the grip on his hand and silently wished for the moment to never end.
Like most times Adam was sick, he tried not to let the world in on the fact, working through it, exercising until he burned it out. He never rested, even when he should. But flu season was going strong in Henrietta, and Adam was now of an age that he no longer received healthcare at the government's dime, which meant that his own shots were no longer up to date.
At first he was fine, but as the symptoms grew worse, he became more and more sluggish. People in class talked about him behind his back and to his face about how he was slipping up. How disgusting he was. But Adam met the insults with the same stoic demeanor he always did, brushing off Gansey's quiet concern, Ronan's mothering, and Blue's insistence as if they weren't there.
It wasn't until he was so bad that he was staggering through Monmouth, nearly late that Gansey finally took a stand, calling an ambulance. He was met with the news that he was spiking a fever off 104 degrees and doctors forcing him to rest. He found he didn't care for once as the others crowded around, obvious that they had skipped to make sure he stayed in bed.
He eventually fell into a long sleep to the assurance that Gansey would pay the medical bill, where he met twisted versions of his family. His dad, sneering from the darkness as he taunted him, I knew you couldn't make it on your own. But there were also things that were laced in that felt like memories, but they were things he knew had never happened. His mother staying with him in his room the whole day, shushing him and making sure he was as comfortable as possible. Once upon a time, maybe, but those days were long gone. The memory was too vivid for that. What clinched it, though, was a song he'd known she'd never sung, but Adam grasped to it like a life preserver, wanting the love and affection of a time long past.
He woke up some time later in cold sweat, delirious and hooked up to an IV bag. Gansey, Ronan, and Kavinsky slept in the corner of the room on chairs that didn't look the least bit comfortable. Calla and Jimi were at a small table, quietly playing a game of cards. Blue wasn't there, which told him that she hadn't been allowed to ditch school.
The strangest part of all, though, was the dark-haired vision of Maura Sargent, sitting in the chair next to him, holding his hand and stroking it lightly, while softly singing to herself. Faintly, he realized it was the song from the dream.
Adam tightened the grip on his hand and silently wished for the moment to never end.