Memories. So many memories. Her laugh, her smile. My mother’s hugs and kisses. How she tucked me in every night, no matter how late she came home. But now, it’s different. Now it’s me tucking her in, giving her hugs and kisses, letting her know I’m here. Papa says she’s okay, always trying to comfort me, but I know that’s not true. I remember Papa’s smile too, how he always shined that warm smile when she got home. Always telling her how much he loved her. Never expecting this. Never knowing how sick she would become.

      I hear Papa arguing over the phone. He tells me not to worry about it, but I know better. I know that we’re down to the last appointment, the last dime. We’re losing it; the control. A month ago, I would have been at school, not thinking that my Ma would be in this situation, excepting her to be rushing home to our two story, luxurious home every day with that bright smile, thinking of us. Instead, she’s lying in bed; staying up all night, coughing and throwing up. It strains me to not rush into her room to comfort her, to let her know that I’m next to her, and that I’m okay. 

      “Nathaniel, get down here!” I hear Papa call me down from my room.

      “Yes Papa?” I answer, even though I already know what’s happening, and what he’s going to say.

      “A doctor is here to check on your mother. I want you on your best behavior, just as always.”

      “Okay Papa.” I answer, for there is not much else to say. I simply head for the door to greet the doctor.

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      At first, when Mama got sick, it seemed so simple. People get sick all the time, and they recover. It seemed like a small fever, like the one I had last summer, but this one didn’t go away. And it got worse. Mama began to vomit constantly, and she formed strange rashes. Still getting worse, we hired a doctor to discover what was going on. The first diagnostic we received was from a doctor that seemed to not care. He claimed it was just a mild fever, completely ignoring the facts that proved otherwise. Although we hoped, we knew it could not be a simple fever, so we continued searching for doctors. As more and more doctors came, I realized we were running out of time and money. That was a month ago. We now could only afford one more doctor. 

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      “Hello. Welcome sir”, I greet the doctor as he enters our house.

      “Hello young man. How are you feeling this fine evening?”, the doctor politely asked, assuming I was the patient and examining me for sickness.

      “Oh no, sir. I’m not the patient,” I quickly corrected him, “My mother is. She’s upstairs in her room.”

      “Oh! Apologies, my young sir, my mistake. May you please show me the way to your mother’s room?”

      “Yes, of course. It’s right this way,” I gesture towards the upstairs hallway. “First room on the right.” I say to him.

      “Thank you. I shall see what I can do about your mother”, he replied as he headed in the direction I pointed him. 

      About ten minutes passed, and the doctor finally emerged from the room with an expression I was far to familiar with. His face was filled with sorrow, though he tried to hide it; for he could tell how much we cared. 

     “I’m sorry. I’m afraid your wife has variola, also known as smallpox”, the doctor started off. 

“No, that’s impossible, not my Susan. Not now!”, Papa interrupted on the verge of tears.

“I’m afraid so. Your wife has all the symptoms, from the rashes down her body to her fever and constant vomiting. She also complained of pain in her back and muscles, and also headaches, furthermore proving my diagnostic.” I heard the doctor say this, and I was preparing myself for what the doctor was going to say next.

Tears beginning to fall, I asked, “How much longer does she have?” Before the doctor could answer, Papa interrupted again.

“No... No! There has to be a remedy. I’m not letting my Susan go that easy! Please.” Papa said this, voice strained and tears now falling. 

“I’m sorry”, the doctor simply states. “I’m afraid the only thing I can do is leave this medication to ease her pain. No man on this Earth has a cure we know of for small pox.” He paused for a moment, then continued. “I would suggest you start saying goodbye. Judging by the condition she is in, she may only last a few days or less.” Again the doctor paused, as Papa processed what he just heard. Then he started again. “Now, I can give you a form to sign. All that you would need to do is call the number when she is fully gone, and the morgue will pick up the body.”

“Stop it!”, Papa suddenly outbursts. “Stop talking about my wife like she is already dead! She will survive this. Leave the number and the form if you’d like, but I am sure not going to use it. Just leave if you can not help. Leave the medication and get the hell out of my house!” By the time Papa had finished, he had began to yell, not caring that I was near. Papa never yelled before, it almost scared me, seeing him so vulnerable. I led the doctor out and thanked him for generously spending his time at our house, and apologized for my father’s behavior. 

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It’s been two days, and Papa won’t leave his room. Not to eat, to drink, or to  visit Mama. I stood by Mama’s bedside all of yesterday worried she would slip away. I nursed her, fed her, and used the medication the doctor left to help her pain. She was asleep most of the morning today, but at around noon, her eyes opened weakly. She said my name, first a whisper, then louder. 

“Nathan.” Once more she said my name. I figured she wanted to see me so I came closer. 

“Yes, Mama. It’s me. I’m right her, don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.” I grabbed her hand to reassure her it was me. 

“I think I am, my boy.” She paused.

“Oh, my sweet, bright blue-eyed boy. You have always been with me when I needed it the most. My dear Nathan, stay strong and promise me you’ll never change. Promise me, no matter what, you will stay your sweet, compassionate self, not changing for anyone. Oh, my Nathaniel Rae Turner, do not change and just know, I love you. 

“I promise Mama, don’t worry. I love you too.” I said, my voice nearly a whisper.

Mama looked at me one more time, and weakly smiled to let me know she was okay. Then her eyelids dropped down and I knew. All I could do was sit there, tears silently falling, praying that she was in peace. After twenty minutes of just sitting next to her body, I got up and walked to Papa’s room. The door was closed, as it was for the past two days. I knocked and waited a few minutes, no answer. I knocked again, still no answer.

Worried, I quickly opened the door and entered the room to find Papa lying in bed, motionless. To one side of him, an empty bottle, that was full of some of Mama’s pills two days ago. And to the other side, a note. It read:

“Nathaniel, by the time you read this your mother will have passed. I knew it was her time ever since the second week, when her fever didn’t pass and rashes formed, I just couldn't accept it. This isn’t the life we promised you. The bank loan ran out days ago, and we didn’t have much left. You could have gone to school everyday to finish your education, but you chose family. That is why you are so special. For the past two days, my door has been shut because I couldn’t bear to look at your face, the face that reminds me of the wonderful mother you had, that I miss so much. It’s not only your face, but so much more. You are so similar to her in so many ways, from you eyes to your spirit. You are so kind and compassionate. Your mother was the same. Always putting others before herself. That is the reason I loved her and the reason I love you. Now, in the pantry there is a box, and that box is important. Open that box and you will find a supply of food, water, and our last savings. These are for you. Take these supplies in your mother's red cloth and tie it on a stick. Take only the necessary clothing too. Once you finished packing, leave the house. Go to the café-diner with the pink umbrella on the end of the street. It is open overnight, so stay there until you find someone trustworthy, or somewhere safer to go. Take care, and remember son, although you may not think this, I love you, and I’m with your mother now, in peace.
          —Love, Papa

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      Although the note was now tear stained, I followed the instructions on it, and kept the note as one of my greatest memories.