It’s like water. Fluid, moving, ever-changing water. When you look at it, it appears blue, or maybe even a dark turquoise. Really, it’s all just a trick of the eye, isn’t it? When you dive into the waves, it appears white as it mixes together and rolls onto the shore. As the waves pass and you swim to the center, you realize the danger that you’ve gotten yourself into.

It’s not blue. It’s not turquoise. It sure as hell ain’t white. It’s nothing. It’s a void. It’s darkness solidified into liquid. Yet, the curiosity keeps you going, keeps you moving down. It doesn’t pull you. You pull yourself. Dive, dive, dive! Into that impenetrable deep. What will you find? You’ll never know until you know. It could have sharp teeth. It could be something you’ve been waiting for.

My father thinks family is everything. I try not to disagree with his assessment, but it’s almost impossible not to ponder further on the subject. Family is just one part of it. Yet, the vast ocean of life offers so much more. What about the dive into the deep unknown? What about the adventure and the light at the end of the tunnel? Isn’t the grandest part about life its mystery?

Or maybe my father is right. Maybe there is some sort of set plan for us. Perhaps we have to go through the motions because that’s just part of the human story set within a “unstable” civilization. Or maybe I’m just thinking too damn hard about all of this.

When I look over at her, sleeping so soundly, I can’t help but feel the pain of love within my chest. For me, she is that impenetrable deep. She is the unknown, the mystery I’ve been waiting for. She has disrupted my life in the best way possible. Now, I’m stuck diving deeper and deeper, without any chance of getting air.

“What’re you doing up?” she whispers. Her voice is groggy and cute. Her lips pout against the bed sheets. Her lids weigh heavy against her eyes. I sink back into the covers. I wrap my arms around her. I kiss the top of her head. I grab her cheeks and kiss her lips. I bite her lower lip. I pull back and inhale every bit of her. I’m obsessed, so fucking obsessed.

“I have to go to the hospital,” I say.

She shoots up and grabs me. “The hospital? Why? Are you okay?” I laugh and grab her. We’re both rolling on the bed.

“Oh yeah,” she laughs. “That’s where you work. Don’t go in today. Let’s just do this.”

I pin her against her pillow and her arms go effortlessly behind her back. I grab her wrists and squeeze. She kisses upward and our lips meet in a fiery heat.

“How about I come right back here,” I say.

“When?” she asks.

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out,” I say. “I’m coming back here when I’m done and I want to find you just like this, waiting for me. Wet.”

“Wet.” She repeats the word in a choked whisper.

“Dripping wet for me,” I say. I pull back and crawl away from the bed. I’m piercing hard right now and she can see every inch in front of her. She’s got this look in her eyes that tells me she wants to reach out and grab it, but she doesn’t have permission to right now. That’s for later.

“I’ll be right here,” she says, in a trance.

“Good girl.”

I grab my clothes and boots. I quickly put everything on, glancing at her every few minutes to make sure she hasn’t moved. I walk toward the door and look back one more time. “Don’t worry,” she says. “You know what I am. I’m good.”

“For me you are,” I say.

I close the door and walk to my car. I drive to the hospital, cock still hard and throbbing. I drive. Pedal to the metal. I get to the hospital. One surgery takes an hour and a half. I am on fire. With her on the mind, I can conquer any task in front of me. My crew looks at me, stunned.

I walk through the halls knowing that life is finally good. Well, at least it’s as good as it can be. When I push past that third hall, I know where I’m going. I see Jenna at the end and the sway to my walk sort of disconnects from the rhythm around me. My steps slow down until all I can offer her is a slight frown. “What’s up?” I ask her.

“Oh, you know. Same shit as always, right?”

“Right,” I say.

There’s nothing else to say. I start to feel guilty when I wonder how long will this process last? How long will we wait for our mother to die? Every day is a battle. I hate admitting that, but it’s true. This reoccurring nightmare has us all entrenched in a very real and odd spot.

“I should probably see her,” I say. “Who knows how long we have.”

“Go ahead. I’ll be out here,” she says.

I walk inside and feel my throat choke up. My body feels tight and worn down. I’m tired. Work has been hell on me. I have Olivia as my solace, and that’s something, but is it something I can rely on forever? Can she really support all of this weight?

“Hey Mom,” I whisper.

Her eyes move and I feel my heart ache with pain. My fists clench and teeth gnash together. For a second, I start to regress a bit. I look to my side, at the glass window. I have a sudden urge to hurl a chair right through it, as if that’s going to solve my every problem. But it’s not a man’s job to smash and break every setback that is put in his way. When anger isn’t an option, sadness creeps in. I fall to the floor and feel the tears push past my eyelids.

Mother… my only mother. She was the woman who raised me. She was the woman who taught me everything. She taught me how to be humble, how to help people, and how to turn the other cheek. She was the one who made me want to become a surgeon. What will happen when she is gone?

I pick myself off that waxy-coated floor, shining from the artificial light that hangs from above. I move forward to her bed, and sit down next to her. I take her hand in mine and force a smile out. “I’ve met someone, Mom. She’s perfect, a real angel,” I say.

Do you love her? She doesn’t utter the words, but that’s exactly what she’d say if she could. If you don’t love her, you shouldn’t waste her time.

“I think I love her,” I say. “But how can you be sure? Did you know right away when you met Dad?”

There’s not going to be any real answers here. I’m talking to a woman who’s knocking on heaven’s door. The only answers I’m going to get are from myself. She would have told me that her and my father were of different circumstances. She would have said that she knows better now, that good life decisions are constantly shifting due to circumstances and customs.

The only thing that matters in life is what feels good, but it has to make others feel good too. Love is about humbling yourself for another person. When I am around Olivia, I want to make her laugh, I want to hear her happiness, and I want to make sure she’s always being listened to, even if times are tough.

I want to kiss her nose. I want to smell her scent. I want to see her and feel her every god damn second of the day. Is that love?

I squeeze my mother’s hand again and nod to myself. “I’m here, Mom. I’m here.” I don’t leave this time, even though I could. Instead, I stay for my mother. I stay because she’d stay for me. My sister eventually comes back inside. I look back at her and the flood of memories comes in.

“She was the best mom in the world,” I say.

“She was and is,” Jenna says, unable to let go. There’s a long pause and all that can be heard are doctors’ shoes hitting the ground outside, and the air conditioning. Occasionally, there’s the sound of someone from another room, coughing or calling for a nurse. “Is this really it? Is she leaving us, James?”

I nod, but I don’t let my head hang low. I keep my chin up for her. I then grab her hand and squeeze. I have to remain strong for everyone. I have to hold the entire world up in case they all fall down. “Yes, Jenna. She’s leaving,” I say. “But it’s okay. She gave us all she needed to.”

“There could have been more,” she cries. “There was supposed to be more. She’s not that old.”

“There are no guarantees. Whatever happens is what was going to happen. They did their best. Now it’s up to her whether or not she leaves today, tomorrow, or in a week. Whatever happens, I’m here for you and Dad. I hope you know that,” I say.

“God dammit,” she sighs. She begins to weep, deep and painful. I can barely stand it, but I have to. “Why do you always have to be the one to keep us lifted? Why can’t you suffer with us?”

I have no answers for her. It’s just in my nature. I don’t say anything and she doesn’t beg me anymore to give her an answer. The only thing that’s not up in the air is right now, the present. Even with this pain surrounding me, I have one beacon of hope, one bright light. Olivia. And she’s waiting for me. Is she the love of my life? Am I just marrying her because my father wants me to find a woman? I can’t answer those questions yet, but when I can, I’ll make sure she knows.