From the Edge
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After the shakes and the vomiting had been done, Peter fell into an exhausted sleep. Both Annie and Paul took turns watching Peter for any signs of another bout. It wasn't long before another occurrence happened. This time, Paul and Annie were prepared. The moment the vomiting started, Paul had placed a basin in front of Peter to catch the liquid. This bout did not last as long as the first, but it was just as exhausting. The next bout did not occur until two hours later. It was like the time Peter had come down with a nasty stomach virus that had caused him to throw up all night. There were moments in between where he was able to rest, but then something would happen and the vomiting would start up again. All Annie and Paul could do was be there to support their son through the worst of it. It was no different then and it was no different now.
"How much longer is this going to go on?" Annie asked, exhaustion clearly apparent in her voice.
Paul just sat there, trying to keep his own council.
It was nearly dawn and both Annie and Paul had received little sleep. Paul looked at his watch and saw that it was after 6:00 AM. It had been three hours since Peter had an attack.
"Paul, can you tell me something?"
"Sure, what is it?" Paul replied as he rubbed his hands over his face to try to dispel the need for sleep.
"Peter keeps calling for someone named "Pop." I don't think I've ever heard him cry out that name, even when he would have nightmares when he was a boy."
"I think it was what he used to call his father," Paul answered.
"I often wonder what his father might have been like," Annie said wistfully. "Peter hasn't talked much about him. But I got the impression that he really admired and loved him very much when he did say something. It must tear him in two when he thinks of him and the way he was lost to him."
"That's the first time in ages Peter's mentioned his father. I thought Peter was finally accepting the fact that his father was never coming back and that he'd put those memories behind him. But apparently, he still thinks of him. The other day, I happened by his desk and there was a small Buddha sitting in his bottom drawer. I asked him about it and he said that his father had given it to him at the temple. He had been able to rescue a few meager items from the destruction. He then asked me if he thought his father would be proud of him. I told him I didn't know; though I'd like to think so. I know I was."
"Oh, Paul. That was so sweet." Annie reached out and Paul grasped her hand in his.
They fell into a companionable silence for a time, a silence that was comforting for both and one where each knew the other required it. It came from years of practice and knowing the other's heart, but it was soon broken by Annie's sobering statement.
"Paul, I'm sorry for what I said to you. You were right. I just wasn't ready to listen that what was happening to Peter was being caused by his doctor."
"I've been trying to get up the courage to tell you," Paul began. "I arrested Doctor Randell yesterday. We had testimony from two different nurses that confirmed the fact that he kept changing Peter's medication amounts to where the last dose had been a lethal amount."
"Oh, Paul. What could cause him to want to harm our son?"
"That's what I need to find out. I'm going to have to go down to the precinct today. Will you be all right while I'm gone?"
"She will be fine. We will look after Peter together."
Paul turned to see the ancient Chinese and another younger man standing in the doorway. The younger man carried a large box.
"It is time," he simply stated as Paul's unspoken question was answered.
End of Part 13
Alisa Joaquin Copyright@2001.
This story cannot be reprinted or sold in any other form without strict permission from the author. It is being distributed here solely for your enjoyment.
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