Before

  I peered down at my mom in the hospital bed.

  “How you feeling?”

  “Heyyyy buddy,” she said, and gave me a vague smile. Her motions were loose and barely controlled. Just pulling her head away from facing the window and over toward me looked like it took a lot of effort. She was blinking at me, too.

  “We have her on some pretty intense opioids right now,” the nurse said. “She was in a lot of pain earlier.”

  “I thought she was getting better,” I said.

  I spotted the vase I’d given her, which had held the flowers I periodically repced. Or at least, I spotted a shard of that vase and a few specks of dirt in the corner of the room. They must have swept it up after. After she threw it? She could’ve bumped it… but all the way across the room?

  “She is getting better, son. It’s going to be a long trek, and sometimes there’ll be some dips down before she gets back up.”

  “All right. But she is going to get back up, right? This is temporary, right?”

  “Your mom’s going to be fine.”

  This is Christopher’s life spiraling out of control.