Quiet whimpers woke me from my light sleep as I lay on the cot in Mama’s bedroom. I raised my head and looked in her direction. The soft nightlight in the corner illuminated her body as she sat straight up in her bed. Her body shook in the dim glow as I raced to be close to her side.
“Mama, Mama, wake up. It’s okay.” I wrapped my arms around her, trying to soothe her quiet sobs while my own heart broke in the process.
“Nnnnnn…” The tone whipped past her lips, causing me utter surprise at a simple sound.
“Mama, what is it?” It felt as though a word was trying to escape her mouth, and everything in me believed she was trying to speak.
“Mama, tell me. Talk to me,” I begged with tears streaming down my cheeks as I did my best to console her. I squinted, trying to adjust my eyes enough to get a clear view of her, and noticed her eyes were still closed.
“Mama, wake up.” I put both of my hands on her shoulders and turned my body to face her.
The whimpers stopped, her eyes fluttered open, and her breathing began to slow as she darted her eyes in different directions around the room.
“It’s me. It’s Rachel. I’m right here. You’re safe. Everything is okay.”
Her eyes grew wide and she began to shake her head as panic covered her face in the dim light.
“Shhh…it’s okay. Everything is okay.” I pulled her into my arms and began to rock while I waited for her to calm down before I let go. “What are you trying to tell me?” I whispered, almost to myself.
She wrapped her arms around me tightly and began to sway back and forth, but silence filled the room. I didn’t want to push her, but I felt like we were close to some sort of breakthrough—although, there was no way to know for sure. I just felt it. But I didn’t want to upset her, so I knew I had to let it be and just keep hoping for some sort of improvement.
After a few minutes, her breathing evened out and she slumped back onto her pillow. When I thought she had fallen asleep, I resumed my position on my cot after quietly scooting it closer to the bed. When I finally rested my head on my pillow, I felt her reach in my direction. I took her hand and allowed her to pull it close to her chest as she drifted off to sleep.
I decided to do the one thing I always relied on but was never sure I was actually heard. But when you feel hopeless, you have to stand by what you always tried to believe in. Who you always wanted to believe in.
Dear God, I began to pray silently.
I always wonder if You’re listening. I believe in You, I do. I’m just never sure You hear me. I know You’re busy, but I also know You’re mighty. And I need You now more than ever. I need Your help. I need You to protect Mama and Sara, and even me, if it’s not too much to ask. But if I have to choose, I choose them. Please, please keep them safe. Don’t let him near them. Please protect them. Please.
I’m sorry for what I did when I was a child. If leaving him there and not helping him was wrong, please forgive me. But don’t allow them to be punished for my mistakes. They don’t deserve it.
And I’m also asking You to help me with Jackson. If You can help him, please do. If I need to break free from him, please show me the way. I feel so lost sometimes, and I don’t know which way to turn. I feel guilty for the way I feel about him. I don’t want to hate him, but I don’t know how to stop my feelings.
Help me be better. Help me do better. Help me.
Please.
Amen.
A slight sense of peace washed over me as I felt my body sink into the thin mattress.
The morning sun shining through Mama’s window caused me to stir, waking me from a surprisingly peaceful sleep after her nightmare. I glanced over and saw she was still asleep and curled up to her pillow. Her face was calm and serene. I couldn’t help but smile at her serene glow as I silently scooted out of bed and walked into the kitchen. Sara was sitting at the table, staring into a cup of coffee.
“Morning,” I said quietly, my voice raspy.
“Morning,” she repeated, putting the steaming cup to her lips and nodding toward the empty cup sitting next to the pot.
“Thanks.” I gladly poured myself a cup, making it just the way I liked it before joining her at the sleek, black kitchen table.
“How’d she sleep?” she asked before taking another sip.
“She had a nightmare, but it passed pretty quickly,” I spoke and then allowed the liquid heaven to slide down my throat, giving me the instant gratification I craved to begin each day.
“But…” I began before taking another drink, and Sara gave me her full attention. “I swear she tried to talk while she was still asleep. It seemed like she was trying to say “No” or something that started with an N. She just couldn’t get it out. But it was different than the usual whimpers and stuff. It was just…different.” I stumbled over my explanation, trying to make sense of what I was feeling.
“Hmm…” Sara bit the inside of her cheek and stared past me.
“What?”
“I think it happened the other night, too, but I just kind of blew it off and didn’t want to read too much into it. I’m not sure if she was awake, but it felt the same way.” She stared at me with wide eyes, and I was grateful for the recognition. I hadn’t imagined it, and I knew it was something.
“Maybe she’s making progress. I mean, this has to mean something. Right?” I shouldn’t get excited about something that might never amount to anything, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted her to speak so badly.
“I don’t know. I don’t want us to get our hopes up.” She knew that’s exactly what I was doing.
“Sometimes that’s all we have is hope.” I shrugged and pulled the steaming cup of coffee to my lips once again.
“Yeah,” she replied but then didn’t say another word about it.
I tucked my hope away in my heart and kept it there for safekeeping. Maybe it was for nothing. But maybe not. Where Mama was concerned, I wouldn’t give up on her.
I couldn’t.