The Accidental Nanny

Hospitals are weird, too quiet, too cold, and they smell like... lemon-scented despair. You'd think with all the money they make from sick people, they could at least get a decent air freshener.

I sighed, adjusting my hoodie as I sat beside mom's bed, gently rubbing her hand. She looked so small. Not just physically, like she was somehow folding inward from the weight of being unconscious for too long. The machines beeped around us like impatient little gremlins, reminding me that time was ticking.

"Hey, Mom," I said softly, leaning forward so only she could hear. "So, I burnt my toast again this morning. Set off the fire alarm, think it hates me. Or maybe it's just mad that I keep using it as a toaster-slash-heating device-slash-bread-crisper-slash-life-failure."

Nothing, not even a twitch of her eyelids, not that I expected anything, but... a girl can dream, right?

I swallowed and looked around the room, plain walls, scratchy curtains, a water jug I was too scared to drink from. My gaze settled back on her face, pale, peaceful, too peaceful.

"I miss you." My voice cracked on the last word. "I really, really miss you. I keep trying to act like I've got it all under control, but..."

I paused, biting my lip. No, I wasn't gonna cry today, I promised myself I wouldn't. "It's hard, Mom. The bills are stacking up, my job is...ugh, don't get me started and the only thing I haven't ruined this week is... okay, no, I've ruined everything."

I sniffled. "Except your favorite hoodie. Still wearing it. Smells like lavender and too much laundry softener."

The door creaked open, and I straightened. Dr. Harper entered with his usual neutral expression that always made me feel like he was about to announce either hope or heartbreak.

"Emery," he said, nodding politely. "How are you holding up?"

I gave him my best 'I'm fine but definitely not fine' smile. "Still breathing, that counts, right?"

He nodded, stepping closer to check the monitors. "Your mother's vitals remain stable. That's a good sign, no changes, but no decline either."

"So we're in a waiting game?"

He glanced at me. "Yes. The brain's a complicated thing. Recovery from this kind of trauma takes time, and every patient's path is different. But... don't lose hope."

I nodded slowly. "Hope's kind of the only thing keeping me from pulling my hair out and applying for a job as a professional blanket burrito."

Dr. Harper chuckled, patted my shoulder, and left. I returned to Mom's side, taking her hand again.

"You hear that, Mom? You're stable. Which is great because I'm not. Mentally, emotionally, financially....I'm basically a walking disaster with a semi-decent Spotify playlist."

I leaned my forehead gently against her arm. "I'm trying, okay? I'm doing my best. So, if you could just... wake up sometime soon, that would be awesome. No pressure."

I stood to grab my bag when something stopped me.

A flicker.

I turned sharply, staring at her hand.

Was that a twitch?

I stepped closer, my heart in my throat. I leaned in, staring like a lunatic. "Mom?"

And then...then her eyelids fluttered.

Once

Twice

My breath caught.

"Mom?"

No answer, no movement again, just stillness.

I backed up slowly, hand over my mouth. Was that real? Was it just my brain messing with me from all the lack of sleep and cheap vending machine coffee?

I wasn't sure. But my heart was beating like I'd just run a marathon. And suddenly, for the first time in weeks, I felt something warm in my chest.

Hope.