Free Tunnel Vision by Gary Braver Page B

milkshakes.
    “We’ll keep it short so you won’t be too taxed. Ready?”
    He nodded. “Send her in,” he said, a little anxious at seeing his mother because she was an emotional woman.
    Heather left, and a few moments later she returned with Zack’s mother. As she entered, his first thought was that she had lost weight. She was dressed in pale green slacks and a white sweater and a necklace he had given her last Christmas. She rarely wore makeup, but today she did. “Hi,” he said through a raw windpipe.
    For a moment she stood at the doorway, frozen. Although she had probably kept steadfast vigil at his bedside, he imagined how she saw him—gaunt, ashen, hair roughly chopped, scabs, scars, his arms like broomsticks. He smiled as best he could and raised his hand toward her. She burst into tears and came to him, taking his hand. He was weak but did his best to give her fingers a squeeze.
    Sobbing and trying to smile, she said, “Thank goodness. I love you,” she whispered.
    “Love you, too.” His voice was hoarse.
    The nurse helped her settle into a chair by his side. She clutched his hand as she tried to compose herself, wiping her face with tissues.
    He knew that she felt some degree of guilt—and not just the residue of her Roman Catholic upbringing, something she carried like a low-grade fever. Or a maternal thing for not protecting him better. It was deeper layered. For some ineffable reason, she believed that Zack had blamed her for Nick’s abandonment. It was totally irrational. Jake’s death had caused that, not Maggie.
    She took Zack’s hand, now crying for joy.
    “Menino’s revenge.”
    “What?”
    “The mayor. They tell me I hit a pothole.”
    When she regained control, she said, “You shouldn’t have been riding your bike so late. And without a helmet.”
    “Mom, I live only a few blocks away. I just didn’t see the hole.”
    She kissed his forehead. “Thank goodness you’re okay.”
    “But I got a great sleep.”
    “Yeah, for eighty-six days.”
    “But who counts?” She leaned over and kissed his cheek and forehead. And he could feel the press of tears behind his own eyes.
    When she settled in the chair again, she said, “Good news. Your thesis adviser gave you a six-month extension. So the pressure is off. Isn’t that great?”
    “That means I get my degree in January. No June graduation.”
    “We can live with that.” She smiled and kissed him again.
    “I think I heard you talking to me while I was asleep.”
    “You did?”
    “You kept telling me to open my eyes. But every time I did, I got sand in them. I think you also asked me to clean up my room and take the trash out.”
    She laughed and squeezed his hand.
    He could feel the warmth of her grip. It felt good. It was a relief to see her laugh again. She must have been gnarled with fear and grief these past three months. As he lay there, he resolved that once he got out he’d spend more time with her, get closer, do more to make her life better. She had suffered too much in the last ten years.
    “I also had dreams of Dad.” As he’d feared, the mere mention of him caused her smile to sag.
    “Dreams? What kind of dreams?”
    “Mostly from Sagamore Beach, I think.”
    Maggie nodded, trying to appear interested.
    “It felt so real, even the heavy fog. I’m surprised the bed isn’t all wet.”
    She didn’t say anything but looked at the IV connection on the back of his hand.
    “I think Dad was in it, but I couldn’t see him, just sensed he was there. It was weird.”
    “Well, you were in a coma.”
    She said nothing else but glanced away, probably thinking how characteristic that was of Nick—barely there. She never forgave him for leaving them, then dying, and now Zack was having dreams of him. And he knew she resented that. He had abandoned her at her lowest. He had abandoned him at his neediest. Yet Zack remembered him as a quiet, private man who was also warm and loving. He never missed one of Zack’s