Sinful Mates 1-3

chapter 4

“The merger document?” I ask, peering at his computer screen. He nods his head, and I hit print

before walking back to the printer. His document prints out and I staple it before handing it to him.

Theo stands there watching me, his intense gaze making me feel uncomfortable, but I can’t look

away. He suddenly turns and walks out. I instantly take a breath of air, not realising I was holding my

breath. I make my way back to my desk. Theo has been acting weird the last week. I have caught him

staring more times now than I can count.

Tobias has been on edge lately as well, I heard them arguing over something the other day. I tried

to tune it out as best I could as their relationship is none of my business, but it makes it a little awkward

and tense around the office.

The day goes by quickly. Tobias remained in his office all day in one of his moods. The only time I

heard from him was when I transferred calls to his phone line. Before I knew it, it was 5:30 PM. Mr

Kane and Mr Madden left at 5:00. I finished shutting everything down before switching the lights off and

heading to the carpark. Once at the carpark, I grabbed my phone charger and some warm clothes to

change into and piled everything into my bag.

I had to be back at my car before Tom locked up. Tom worked a few hours of a morning and then

came back at night to empty the bins and scrub the floor before locking up the carpark at 9:00PM.

Giving me plenty of time to visit my mother before heading back.

Walking through the empty parking lot, I came out on the ground floor level, on the park side.

Cutting through the park I head towards the big blue neon Sign that sat atop the hospital across from

Kane and Madden Industries. Mater Hospital. Every day I walk over to check on her. Making my way to

the second floor, I head to the wards. Room Eighteen, bed five.

My mother has been here for just over three months. I take a seat in the sterile room. I hate This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

hospitals, they always smell of hand sanitiser, and this particular ward reeks of death. No, my mother

hasn’t got some debilitating chronic illness. My mother Lila Riley is in a coma.

My mother was driving home from work at a local bar. A drunk driver ran a red light, smashing into

her. Her car was a total write off, and she had to be cut from the vehicle. She has been in a coma ever

since. The doctors say she is brain dead, that the only thing keeping her alive are the machines she is

hooked up to.

The hospital said they can keep her alive and hope to see some change even though it would be a

miracle. I have managed to push it to nearly four months now, after I appealed their decision to turn off

life support. I am still waiting to hear back from the Medical Ethics Council. I know it is a battle I will

lose. But for now, it has brought me more time with her.

It is only a matter of time before they pull the plug on her and tell me I have to say goodbye. This is

also why I am living in my car. Mum’s medical bills are expensive, and even when it comes the time to

switch her off, I will have to live in my car for at least another 2 years before I finish paying it off. My

medical insurance covers a dependent child or spouse. My mother didn’t have medical insurance. She

worked cash in hand and struggled to keep a job for long.

I know most people think it would be wishful thinking that she would wake up, but I just can’t give

up on her. She taught me to walk, talk, to use a spoon. How to ride a bike. She has been by my side

from the start. She was my first friend. In fact, she is my only friend. She raised me as a single mum

from the time I was born. My father walked out when he found out she was expecting. I never met the

man and quite frankly don’t care to meet him.

I lost our house after three weeks of not being able to pay the mortgage, turns out we were already

months behind when the accident happened, and my mother was keeping it from me. I had to choose

to keep mum alive or keep the house. I chose her. I know she would have done the same for me. I

know I am delaying the inevitable, but how do you kill your mum? Kill the one person who spent your

entire life loving and supporting you? When the time comes, I need to know I have tried everything, or I

know I won’t be able to live with the guilt.

Looking down at my mother, she looked like she was sleeping besides the tube hanging out of her

mouth that was forcing her to breathe, keeping her alive. She had numerous tubes hanging out of her

skinny arms. My mother used to be strong, lively, and a happy woman. She always looked younger

than her age. With her blonde hair that was just below her shoulder blades, she had excellent skin, no

wrinkles, pink full lips, and tan complexion. She looked great for a woman who was 45 years old.

Now her skin was grey, her hair oily and flat. She had lost all her weight and muscle mass and was

now skin and bone. Literally wasting away in this hospital bed. Sitting in the blue chair, I scooted closer

to the bed and grabbed her hand.

“Hey Mumma, I miss you.” I brush her hair off her forehead where it is sticking to her skin.

Listening to the beep of her heart monitor, I hear it beeping regularly and the sound of the ventilator

forcing her to breathe. It is the same thing every day. I used to come every day and sit with her for

hours and tell her about my day or read to her. But after a couple months, I just come to tell her I love

her. I have run out of things to say.

I miss her voice. I miss her telling me everything was going to be okay. I miss the way she made

everything look easy. Lila Riley may not have been a perfect mother, but she was perfect to me. Yeah,

she had a drinking problem, but other than that, I know she did the best she could with the hand she

was dealt.

There was never a lack of love, and no matter how bad I fucked up, she was always there to help

me pick up the pieces and rebuild.

Now I see her, and I think of all the things she will miss. All the memories she won’t be a part of.

After sitting with her for a while, I quickly duck into the small bathroom. The nurse Sally is on night

shift tonight and always lets me shower here. It is the only time I get to shower with warm water. Not

hot, but like lukewarm bath water as the showers are temperature regulated. Still, I’m not complaining.

Warm is better than cold. The other people in this room need assistance and are bedridden like my

mother, so I don’t have to worry really about anyone opening the door, but I always lock it just in case a

cleaner or nurse decides to stop in.

Showering quickly, I wash my hair and my body, making sure to scrub extra good while I have the

use of warm water. When I’m done, I quickly get out, dry myself and get into my track pants so I don’t

have to try and change in the car. I also slide my feet into some socks before putting on a pair of flats. I

then jam everything back into my oversized handbag before making my way back to my mother’s side.

Sitting on the table next to my charging phone are some club sandwiches. Sally must have come

in while I was in the shower. She knows my situation and knows I haven’t got much left over after I pay

the hospital repayments, so every shift she is on, I always find sandwiches or any leftover food from the

cafeteria on the table waiting for me.