The Wisherman

by Danielle

  His mother began to stir. Her hand moved slowly, followed by the fluttering of eyelids before they opened to reveal the brown eyes that Oliver recognized. Her look was vacant for a moment, before Oliver noticed the signs of recognition. Her eyes lit up and she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out at an audible level.

  Hands trembling uncontrollably, Oliver leaned in closer to his mother. She smelled of lavender, and Oliver wondered if she still dabbed that perfume on her neck while she was in the hospital. He wondered if the nurse did it for her, to keep routine.

  "Oliver." Her voice was so soft, Oliver was afraid that if he breathed he would be unable to hear her. "You've done really well for yourself, considering everything." She whispered, and she attempted to work her face into a smile, but she appeared to have lost the energy for it halfway through, leaving her lips stuck in a sneer. Oliver shook his head, feeling like the biggest fraud in the world. She really didn't know. In her eyes, she saw her son reformed. Sent away to a private school to learn how to be a man. "I sent you letters. Did you get them?"

  Oliver shook his head, sadly. "If I had gotten then, I would have been here sooner." His mother's eyes changed, a sense of urgency overtaking her gentle gaze. "Then, I need to tell you this." Her voice grew stronger, and Oliver felt fear clutch his heart like a greedy lover. Oliver took several deep breaths, although his heart continued to beat out of control. The clock on the wall above his mother's bed ticked loudly, and it was as if each second that dragged by, it ticked even louder. "Give me your hands." Oliver reached up and laid his gloved hands across his mother's lap. "Take off your gloves." Oliver stopped short and drew back his hands sharply, but not before his mother grabbed his hand with a surprisingly strong grip. She slowly pulled the gloves from Oliver's trembling fingers and held his hands in hers. Oliver's mother looked up into his eyes, and she whispered "It’s not your fault, I was careless. I know. I always have. I was afraid. I didn’t know what to do. Go." She gripped his hand, and stared into his eyes. Oliver felt his stomach twist and then he felt nothing. It was as if something had stopped it. He looked quizzically at his mother. “The only thing I would wish for is standing right in front of me.” His mother smiled at him, and repeated in a voice so low, that Oliver wasn’t sure if he actually heard it in his head: “Go. Find it. I know there is a place for you in this world. I am sorry it could not be with me.” Oliver closed his eyes, and tears poured down his cheeks. When he opened his eyes again, the heart machine was beeping at a steady pace and his mother’s eyes were the ones that were closed.

  He couldn’t remember it all. They came in hordes at first, doctors and nurses. The room was too crowded, and he couldn’t breathe. Someone did CPR. They did it for several minutes trading off like relay runners. Is she dead? He thought he asked, but he couldn’t be sure. No, she’s just in a deep coma. Forever? Awkward silences ensued. We don’t know. Who can you call? They asked over and over again. He numbly announced that he had a grandma and some cousins in California that he never really saw. Could you go stay with them? He could, maybe. He had never asked before because they lived so far away.

  We need you to wait here until the rest of your family arrives.

  Who? The emergency contacts of course. He slept by his mother’s side until relatives that looked nothing like him showed up. Your mother will want you to come with us, you know. One was snobby, with a pearl necklace and Oliver wondered how they hadn’t choked her yet. The other was older with fuzzy grandma hair but no cookies. They all kissed his mother so easily that Oliver almost felt scandalized. They didn’t know her at all.

  What will you do now?

  Who will you stay with?

  I have a pool. There are good schools here.

  Maybe we should call that school of yours and send you back.

  He was able to dismiss them for the day, yawning loudly and obviously. They scurried away, making promises to return the next day to figure his situation out. It was in this moment that Oliver decided that he did not want anyone else to figure his situation out. He figured he deserved the right to do that for himself. He spent another day at his mother’s bedside, watching her chest rise and fall. He ate extra food for her in the hospital cafeteria and left some by her bed side as well, imagining that she might smell the overcooked meatloaf and rise up. He lathered himself and his clothes up in the shower and left them out to try, astonished at the dirt that washed from his body and into the drain below. He felt as if he was washing darkness itself from his body and soul. He ate more hospital food, dicey eggs and a stale roll. He toasted his mother with water from the sink. He repacked his bag, and added several hospital nightgowns and mints to the pack.

  And then, having sufficiently regained his strength, he stood. He walked past the reception desk, feeling cleaner than ever. And he walked towards the bus stop and he waited. Day turned to night, but he waited still. When the bus crept up, he paid his money and hopped on.

  “Where to?” The bus driver drawled.

  “West.” He said.

  THE END.

  Author’s Note:

  This book discusses some heavy themes, including implications and discussion of abuse, drug use, and depression. Please know that there is help available. Check out the following resources if you need.

  Safe Place: http://nationalsafeplace.org/

  National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1-800-273-TALK (8255)

  The Trevor Project: www.TheTrevorProject.org

  National Alliance on Mental Illness: www.nami.org

  And many more!

  About the Author

  Danielle Racey is in her twenties and has been writing since she was a little girl. The Wisherman is her second novel and the one she is most proud of so far.

  The Wisherman is the first book in an (as of now) untitled series. Stay tuned to find out more information about upcoming interviews and other work by Danielle Racey.

  Connect with Danielle Racey on Facebook and Tumblr for giveaways and any questions.

  @ danielleracey.tumblr.com

  Danielle Racey encourages reviews and invites conversation from readers!