The smell of bacon wafted over to me from the kitchen as I sat on the couch, flipping through channels on the television. My cat, Jack, waddled over and rubbed his fluffy little head against my leg, then jumped up onto the couch with me. A wave of peace washed over me, as I was home.

My mother, a sweet, short lady in her early fifties with greying brown hair and a kind smile, came out of the kitchen holding two plates of fried eggs, bacon strips, and buttered toast. She put one of them on the coffee table in front of me, patted Jack on the head, and then sat down on the opposite end of the couch.

“Nothing interesting on?” she asked

“Nah, all either news or reality TV,” I responded, “crapshoot.”

“Bummer.”

I clicked the power button on the TV remote and set it down on the table. A long silence settled over us, comfortable, but somber. She huffed and picked up her fork off of the coffee table. I did the same and cut one of the eggs up, the runny yellow yolk flowing onto the plate, soaking the toast. How I like them, I thought to myself as I greedily shoved a bit of egg into my mouth. Strangely, it tasted a little off, as though the flavor was muted in some way.

As we ate, I occasionally looked over at my mom. She had this look on her face that struck me as odd. She looked as though she was sad about something, and wanted to say something, but couldn’t. When she finished eating, she neatly put her fork on her plate and set it down on the table. When she sat up, she closed her eyes for a moment, then opened her eyes and looked at me.

“You know,” my mom began, breaking the silence, “I have something that I need to get off my chest. Ever since your father passed, you’ve really done a lot to help me out, and I don’t think I’ve ever really given you enough credit. I was so preoccupied with work at the museum that it was hard for me to notice what you were doing. I understand now how hard you work to make sure that we both have a good life. I know that’s why you moved to Santa Luz, why you started bounty hunting, why you’re here now. Thank you, Tobias.”

As she spoke, the fog began to lift from my brain. Memories began to flood back into my head from my childhood. My father and I tossing a football back and forth, my parents taking me to dinner when I got all As on my report card in the 7th grade, my graduation from high school with my mom sitting in the audience. Between these fond memories, darker memories came back as well, my father’s cancer, the subsequent funeral, the fight I had gotten into with my mother the night I decided to move to Santa Luz. The memories, all streaming back into my brain at once, hit with such force that it caused my hands to start shaking. My mother put her hand on mine and looked at me.

If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

“I-,” I struggled to get the words out.

Speaking was so difficult, I just wanted to melt backwards into the couch. The words got caught in my throat and I couldn’t even cough them out. It was agonizing; there were so many things I wanted to say to her, things I’d wanted to say for years. I wanted to tell her how great of a mother she’s been, that I wouldn’t be where I am today without her, and that I had left not just to make money and a name for myself, but because I didn’t want to be a burden on her anymore. But all I could mutter was a simple “thank you.” Her gaze darkened.

“And I’m sorry for what happened to you.”

Another memory came back to me. My fight with Paul Rodriguez, the blood, my arm. My eyes widened. Everything had caught up to me.

“How did I get here?” I asked her, “Am I dead?”

“You’re not dead, no, but if you don’t wake up soon you might end up that way,” she answered gravely.

“But… I don’t want to wake up yet. Mom, It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, I just, I…” I trailed off, tears welling up in my eyes.

“You always have a home here with me,” she said, her gaze softening again, “but you still have things to do. You still have a name to make for yourself.”

I could hear a faint beeping, like a heart monitor, slowly getting louder and louder until it was practically in my ear. I knew the time I had left with her was short, so I put my whole heart into my next words.

“I love you, mom. Thank you… for everything. Once again, you’ve given me the strength to keep going. I’ll repay this one day.”

“I love you too, Toby,” she said with tears in her eyes, “You don’t need to repay anything, just stay alive. You still have a name to make for yourself. Show Santa Luz who my son really is.”

Another voice entered my ears, one that I hadn’t heard before.

“He’s waking up.”

Jack meowed as if to say goodbye. I patted him on the head, and my mother kissed me on the cheek. My vision, or what my brain thought was my vision, began to blur and fade, and for a moment, the world faded to black.

Then I opened my eyes.