Of Blood and Bone by Courtney Cole

appears to be broken now, which is a good sign.
    Sophia sighs. 
    “She is hallucinating again,” she tells me tiredly.  “She thinks that she sees your father.  It’s all I can do to keep her contained in this wing.”
    “But you keep the doors locked,” I pointed out.  “Even my mother cannot escape a locked door.”
    “There are windows,” Sophia answers grimly.
    I startle as I stare at the walls of windows that line this room.  Every room in the suite has similar windows.  My mother insisted upon it when she was moved to this wing.    Although her wing is located on the ground floor, the windows are still too high up to climb through. She would probably break every bone in her body if she attempted it.  She is frail in her older age. 
    “What do you suggest?” I ask.  “Bars on them?”
    Sophia shrugs.  “I don’t know,” she answers.  “But she is desperate at times to escape, to find your father. She wants to save him.”
    “Her medication isn’t working?”
    Sophia shrugs again.  “It is more effective at times than others.  There are moments when nothing can touch her hysteria.  I don’t know what the answer is.”
    “Dr. Bianchi is on vacation,” I tell her.  “He won’t return for two weeks.  But we’ll call him when he gets back and see if there is anything we can do.”
    “Perhaps a change of environment would be good for her,” Sophia suggests.  “There are homes in town where she can receive twenty-four hour care.  Perhaps if she is in a place where Nicolas never was, it will ease her mind. Dr. Bianchi has already recommended this.”
    I’m already shaking my head.  “No.  My mother would never want strangers to see her in such a way.”
    She would rather be dead than that.
    “You are a good son, Mr. Minaldi,” Sophia tells me.  I can see the admiration on her face but I don’t deserve it.  And since I don’t deserve it, I don’t acknowledge it.
    “You never said where she was.”
    Sophia is hesitant.  “She is resting in her sitting room.”
    “Sleeping?” I am hopeful.  But Sophia shakes her head.
    “No.”
    “Sedated?”
    “Yes.”
    “Well, thank God for small favors.”
    Sophia smiles at me.
    “You can take a break,” I tell her.  “I’ll sit with her for a bit.”
    “Are you certain?” she asks and her hesitation is back.  “You might need me.”
    “If I do, I’ll call you,” I assure her.  “Go.  You deserve a break.”
    She nods and slips away and I decide to just get this over with.
    I find my mother curled on her side on a sofa.  She is partially covered with a cashmere throw and her dark eyes are fixed in front of her, staring at nothing.  She is small and slight, and the only things I have inherited from her are her dark eyes.  My father’s were green. 
    I sit down in the chair next to her. 
    “Mother, how are you feeling today?”
    I have to force the words.  I honestly have no wish to speak with her.
    She doesn’t answer and at first, I am hopeful that I can simply sit here in silence with her and then slip out unnoticed. 
    I have no such luck.
    Her dark eyes turn toward me, slowly and eerily.  I fight the shivers that ripple up my spine.  She is a small woman, this woman who gave birth to me.  There is no need to feel such trepidation around her.  Yet, I do.  When she looks at me, she sees through me, to the very depths of me.  No one else can do that and it shakes the hell out of me.
    “You came back.”
    Her words are throaty and simple. 
    “I always do, mother,” I tell her.  I start to reach for her hand, but change my mind.  I am safer over here. I don’t want to feel her skin.  She will feel like ice, as she always does.
    She turns her head more and now she is looking at me squarely.  Her eyes are lucid and clear today and I wonder at what she is thinking.
    I do not have to wonder for long.
    “You left me here with that bitch.  You don’t love me.”
    I sigh.  My mother doesn’t