#notsostreetsavvy

   He was her child, regardless if by blood or by papers. Oliver was her little boy when she had found him on the streets. Elsa worked hard to be able to adopt the boy who had no recollection of his mother and that made it difficult for her get the legal right to adopt him. But, after some time, she had gained full custody of Oliver and they were a family now. Being the single mother that she was however, Elsa sometimes had to juggle between things involving Oliver and her job. Thus being the main cause of Oliver’s accident.

   Busy, busy, busy-- that's all that she ever was with her job. Rushed mornings to beat the traffic of New York City, rushed time to make sure Oliver didn’t get to school late, and everyday constant chaos. Though today Elsa knew that she wouldn’t be able to pick Oliver up on time like usual, the meeting would run later than she had planned most likely.

   “I’ll be a little late to pick you up.” She informed him, as they walked a few blocks down from their apartment to his private school. “Just wait by the front door, okay?” Elsa hoped he paid attention to her words, or at least heard them, seeing as he was more interested in the cracks in the sidewalk rather than her speaking. The blonde hugged and gave a gentle kiss to her son before dropping him off at the front gates. Little hands waved back at her before disappearing into the large build with other small children.

***

   It didn’t take long for Elsa to make it to the hospital, making it her mission to not stop for any reason. She left her meeting once a call came for her from the hospital regarding Oliver. Her whole world froze for a moment. But, she didn’t have time to process everything or react to it, other than to simply abandoning everything at her job and taking the next bus across town. This time she had to rush. This was about her son, her little boy, her Oliver being in critical conditions. Which is what the nurse had told on the phone—from what she could remember actually. The call was so quick and shocking that Elsa didn’t even pay attention after she heard the words; Oliver and car accident in the same sentence.

No.

     Nothing was bad; Oliver possibly only had a broken leg or arm or hopefully nothing so bad after all and they only wanted to make sure he was alright.

Right?

 Of course.

     Elsa quickly went to the first nurse that she saw at the desk, asked for Oliver Winters, and asked for what exactly happened. Seeing the nurse’s face sent Elsa’s stomach in a twist. She regretted asking now, but of course, the mother needed to know. He was hit by a car, walking home from school according to people who saw and reported to the paramedics, and was hit pretty hard and in terrible condition. The mother’s hands went up to stop the nurse from explaining anymore and told her that all she wished to do was see her boy.

    Of course, she was angry once she started walking in the direction the nurse pointed her in towards his room. She was angry because for one he didn’t listen to her. But Elsa was angrier at herself for caring about her meeting more than picking up her own child from school. Now he was here. Scared, hurt, and alone. Because she didn’t pick him up.

    She couldn’t bare the sight she walked into once she opened his door. Machines wired up everywhere, more than one doctor around and her little boy looking so fragile in the large bed. At the looks of everything, and the doctors expressions she saw walking in, Elsa could tell he wouldn’t make. Her heart broke more and more as she thought of it. How was she supposed to deal with her child hooked up to machines to stay alive?  Once the doctors had left the room Elsa sat down on the foot of the bed, holding her little one’s hand in her own. The same hand that held onto hers earlier today. The same hand that would draw her little pictures that either hung on the fridge or framed and placed on her desk.

        What was she supposed to do now? Spill everything she wanted to her dying son in hopes that he could hear her? Pray that he would heal? She could do all that and it would change anything, she saw the doctors and the nurse’s faces. She was the clueless one here. What she needed to do now was to cherish the possible last moments she would have with him. It was difficult. The only other family she had was Anna, and she lived across the country living her own life. Anna knew and met Oliver, they were as close as ever and her little sister welcomed him eagerly. Soon she would have to tell her sister about all this.

     Not now though. Not until after the machines have stopped beeping. She didn’t want them to stop beeping. She wanted him to be him energized and enthusiastic self, jumping around, asking constant question about what this did and what that did. Not being like this. This had to be a nightmare—either her nightmare or another one of Oliver’s that she had happened to be involved in. She had to wake up. She wanted to wake up. She needed to wake up. Her alarm just hadn’t gone off yet, Oliver was calling for her—or..or..

Then she woke up.

   But it wasn't a nightmare. What was happening was her reality, her fear had come true. The machine let out the long beep. The heart rate had dropped into a straight line on the monitor.

    Her stomach burned, her throat burned, and her eyes burned with tears. Everything started to feel as though they were burning inside of her.

    She was almost forced to leave after she gave her son once last kiss on his forehead. Elsa hadn’t meant to create a scene but what would you expect from a mother who had just lost her child? Now what she had at her apartment wasn’t something she wanted to go to. It was an empty apartment, filled with children’s toys and drawings. Most likely a mess from this morning’s rush.

But she couldn’t clean it.

Not any part of the rooms.

It would be whole different routine now.

     No more ordering for two from their favorite take out places,  no more laughter, no more Oliver sneaking into her room to tell her about his nightmares, no more tucking someone in, no more stories.