All I Can Do

Jonathan had sat down for a nice dinner with his parents for the first time in a long time. It didn’t feel like he was treating them, or bittersweet like they’d be heading back to Winnipeg tomorrow, it felt like it used to... back home. His mother cooked and his father cracked open a beer for Jon, like he was underage and was doing him a favour. He felt comfortable.

What broke his heart though, was the fact that through all of this, the only thing he could think of was her [i/]. Her face when she woke up and saw him lounging there, pretty much was making himself at home under her bedridden body. The thought made his stomach churn, he shouldn’t have done that.

Yet he didn’t regret sitting by her each day, just so she had someone there. He felt as if he’d gotten to know her, even though she was unconscious and unresponsive. To say it was painful to face a bitter, grudge holding girl when she awoke would be an understatement- but to say he didn’t expect it would be an utter lie.

He was hungry, so he ate the whole thing. He had been glued to hospital food for a while and was quite content to scarf down something homemade by his mother. The whole time he felt his mom watching him out of the corner of her eye, almost worried, confused, but he ignored it.

Then, as he sat on the couch alone, watching reruns of some stupid reality TV show, feeling full and plump, and his mother walked in and sat down next to him, patting his knee. He sighed; this was beginning to feel way too routine for his liking.

“My boy,” she said, giving him a weak smile, “What’s wrong?”

He shrugged, eyes locked on the TV, “Nothing, why?”

She smiled sweetly, nudging him lightly with her shoulder, “I’m your mother, Jonathan, and I can tell when something’s bothering you. I think I know what it is.”

“Do you?” He asked in almost monotone.
There was nothing worse than your mother realizing you were weak. He could bring home ten thousand Stanley cups and still feel hate the feeling of being weak. However he knew she knew what it was, she had gathered it on the drive home... and it sucked that she agreed with Farren.

“The girl, Farren,” she said, but neither of them were surprised, “If you feel this strongly, then do what you think is right.”

Jonathan frowned and turned towards his mom, “You told me I was intruding.”

“Well if you can’t even smile during my pasta, obviously you aren’t happy.”

He chuckled, placing his head on his mom’s shoulder like a little boy would, “I need to see her, and I need to make sure she’s ok, I don’t know why Ma, but I do.”

His mom kissed his head lovingly, “Then do what your heart tells you, Jonathan, or you won’t get the happiness you deserve.”

He smiled, he truly loved his mother, “Thanks Ma.”

“No I’m serious,” she said enthusiastically, “You’ll wind up like Lindsay Lohan, she’s getting locked up and snorting cocaine on boats, and I’m not bailing you out if that happens.”

He shut his eyes, shaking his head, if anyone was around he’d have been embarrassed, “Mom, shut up.”

“Go and see her,” she said seriously, patting his head, “Tomorrow morning.”