Ghost in the Roses
Chapter 22

There is the same hollow coldness here as it was on the train. All I could do on my way home was stare outside with my head pressed against the window and I’m doing the same thing here. Helplessly, I keep watch over my still mother through the glass.

She is quarantined in a small room and this is as close as I’m allowed to come in contact with her. With only a nurse passing by occasionally, I’m left to do my waiting in the hallways. Eventually, I’m able to replace a chair to make this wait for a miracle a little bit more bearable. It’s only a thin layer of glass, but I feel like I’m worlds apart from her. Her dreams keep reality at bay and only medical charts and doctors’ explanations speak on her behalf.

“Why?” my breath draws a small circle of condensation on the glass.

There’s no point in asking and I know very well she can’t hear me past her dreams. Still, I want answers.

“Why?” I close my eyes and try to imagine her voice, healthy and loud.

“Adrien? You’re here?” a rasp comes through.

It’s coming from the other side of the window. It’s weak and hoarse, but what’s left of its true nature shoots right through me.

“Mom? Yes, it’s me, Adrien. I’m here,” my eyes burst wide open.

And so are hers.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at school?”

“They granted me emergency leave. I’m here to see you,” I keep my voice calm and gentle, fearing that my excitement would somehow be the last straw to break her fragile state.

“I’ll be okay, Adrien. I’ll be okay,” each blink of her eyes seems like a course obstacle that she has to overcome to stay awake.

“I...I think I’ll be drifting back to sleep here soon again, but I’ll try to keep my answer brief and to the point,” this time her eyes are kept closed.

“An answer to what?”

“Earlier, you were asking ‘why’?”

She heard me, after all. I didn’t expect anyone to hear me at all and that’s why I even dared to question her.

“I’ll tell you why son. I’ll tell you why I didn’t stay safe at home. I’ll tell you why, even with your father trying to convince me otherwise.”

“Okay. Tell me why.”

“Because I’m a knight. I chose to be a knight and I’ll always act like a knight.”

“Mom, you left the Violet Domain years ago,” the closing of my eyes expel tears.

“Adrien, this isn’t some job you pick up and quit one day. This isn’t some career path I chose to follow and then retire from. This is life. This is how I chose to live. This is who I am. This is my calling. And that is not something that I can quit.”

“I understand,” and I do. With a smile to contradict it, I start crying, not out of pity or regret, but out of pride.

“I’m going to take another nap,” she sounds annoyed at being tired all the time.

Before I can say anything else, my mother is asleep again. I stay at her guard, wondering what curveball will she throw at me next. They don’t teach this shit at school.

Apparently, morning visiting hours are still a thing at the hospital and I had a kind doctor remind me about them. I won’t be allowed back in till later this evening. That is why I’m back at the farmhouse.

My father is at his office when I come to tell him that I’m back. For whatever reason it may be, it can’t be a good one, for him to become so discouraged about something so routine such as opening mail.

All spread out on his Cherrywood desk, there is letter after letter. Each one bears more and more trying news.

I pick one up, “What’s this?”

“Those are account closing requests,” my father shakes his head.

I don’t ask why. The letter explains the entire reason, and so did the next one and the next one and the next one. Each one gave the same reason, word for word as if all of it was reversed together before being sent out.

“Conflict of political interest? Is this a joke? We’re talking about selling roses to them as we always did.”

“They want to close accounts with us.”

“This is absurd. This is paranoia,” I toss the paper with the rest of the illogical reasons.

“Whatever it might be, I’ll have to go and settle the accounts.”

“I’ll go and see if I can bring the Capital traders back to reason. You need to go see Mom. She’s been waking up here and there this morning.”

“She woke up?” suddenly, my father forgot the orchard’s troubles. His smile is contagious.

“Yes, and she talked to me some,” I keep laying down the good news.

“Yes! Yes, that’s an excellent idea. You go to the port and handle this. I have to go see your mother. What time are the visiting hours?” his breathing picks up and with ecstatic enthusiasm pushes the envelopes at me.

“You’ll be allowed back in at 6 p.m. after the patients had their dinner,” I begin to look for the files for each trader wishing to no longer buy from us and prepare documents for potentially opening up a completely brand-new client list before this day ends.