Heading on home

On the day that you were discharged from the hospital, after taking some time to saying goodbye to the nurses and speaking one last time with Dr. Saunders and Dr. Kelly (and being reminded for the umpteenth time about the NDA), you slowly got up and looked down at the bag of clothes that Monica had brought with her that morning. Your style had been comfortable, mid 30s male appropriate, definitely clashing with the young 20 black man vibe that most of the kids around your now age wore on the daily. From what you remembered, Darrell had a particular cool street/court style that carried along with him into college, though the opportunities to work out in the athletic facilities at the college was a bit more pronounced.

It still amazed you a bit that you hadn't looked at your body yet, though the opportunities were few and far in between (with all the doctors and tests happening), so when you stood up and looked at the clothes, you just shrugged and figured that you would do that later. On came the boxers (settled that short disbute) before jeans, socks, a pair of old Jordans, and then a shirt that basically should have been painted on, for the good it did in hiding just how broad your shoulders were. You smiled a bit at the image reflected at you in the mirror: old male you was a modest male who had worked out to tone only. New you, a young black man who kept his strength and conditioning up to play some mean ball on the court.

A few more moments to make sure that you had slipped the watch on and then put the wallet in your pocket before a knock on the door alerted you to someone waiting. Monica walked in and smiled widely as she looked you once over and nodded in approval. "There's my man..." she sighed appreciatively and walked over to you, sliding next to you and placing her hand around your waist. The fact that you then slid yours around her hip and slowly pulled her close to you caused a bit of a surprise, and a gasp, as her face showed plainly how unusual that was.

"There'll be some changes moving forward but I wanted to start showing you more how much I appreciate you," you whispered and she grinned, the two of you looking less like mother and son and more like a couple. "Darrell's memories show a lot of him being hands off, I don't want to make that same mistake."

"Baby, we'll work it all out..." she replied before she patted your chest and then took your hand. "Ready? I got your discharge notes."

You took a long last look around the room that you had woken up in 2 weeks earlier, the last remaining connection to your old life, and then nodded. "Ready, mom."

****

Walking hand in hand, also looking like you were a couple to people who didn't know you from your stay, you gave a reassuring squeeze every so often and her reaction was both warm and very much loving. She had wrapped herself around your arm and placed a hand on your chest as you walked out of the hospital and into the parking structure. You weren't sure of much but, from a glimpse in a mirror, she definitely didn't look like anyone's mother, much less a 20 year-old man.

Still a bit unsure what to expect, you allowed her to lead you and the two of you headed to a older Civic, one that had seen better days but was still a decent looking car. "Thought it might be nice to get your legs out. Care to drive, baby?" she asked, holding out the keys to you.

You smiled and gently took the keys from her outstretched hand and after hopping into the car, you felt a moment of nostalgia as the smell from the interior hit you. It was a cologne that you knew was popular among younger men but, from the way she flinched, you knew also that it wasn't her favorite. Mental note, change cologne. Simple enough.

As you started the car and backed out of the hospital, Monica shifted in her seat to get comfortable and glanced at you. "I'm glad you're back...even if you're not 100% you anymore, it's good to have you with us again."

"So...in front of the girls, do I call you mom or ma?"

She laughed a little, covering her mouth. "You call me that, the girls' eyes would bug out. I've called you baby, honey, sweetie and you've always called me babe...it's just us, weird, I know..." Monica leaned back in the chair as you pulled out into the mid-day sun. "We'll play it by ear but Darrell's always been respectful, never been a problem kid growing up. He's been way more standoffish, though...he never liked physical contact."

You nodded, understanding how some people were like that growing up. Heavens knows your mom didn't like contact. "That's going to change then, babe...I'm all about contact." You laughed a little and gently placed a hand on her thigh and left it there. "It'll be a change, for sure, but I'm not going to hesitate to touch you, okay?"

Monica's silence was her answer and the two of you drove the rest of the way home talking about the kids and your new life, though she never had you remove your hand (nor did you want to).