You don't know how much someone means to you until you hear that they've been shot. Like everything you thought they meant to you wasn't even half of what they actually mean to you. You begin to analyze your life with them and realize that you wouldn't be who you are without them. You begin to analyze your life without them and can't imagine it without pain.

I used to pray for the wrong things as a child. I remember one time, I prayed so hard for a special doll head that was new and expensive. I prayed for it so hard that Mom bought it for me and I played in the dolls hair for a couple weeks and then forgot that I had her.

But I got the doll.

It took me a few years to realize that my prayers were answered through my Mother. I guess I was expecting the doll head to fall from the sky. People make God seem so dramatic but I've learned that he often sends our blessings with people, or maybe the blessings can be the people themselves.

I don't know.

I sit in room 304 with my Mother's weak hand pressed between mine. She is still sleeping and bandages wrap around her entire shoulder and arm as well as her left leg. I sit in a soft enough couch and cry soft enough so no one can hear me. Still shaken by the nights situations but more than happy that she is still breathing.

I kiss her hand and watch the steady rise and fall of her chest before there is a faint knock on the door.

"Yea." I answer softly, steadying my voice and wiping the few tears that escaped.

"Chanel." A timid but familiar voice answers. The door eases open slowly and a brown skin woman with short and curly black hair peak in at me.

Trevon's Mother.

"Hi, Ms. Wallace." I greet with a half smile. She is dressed in her white scrubs and she looks exhausted as the bags under her eyes have grown and her eyes are a little red from lack of sleep. But she somehow looks more concerned about me and my situation. Just like him.

Just like he would be.

She walks over to me and extends her hand, I take it and she squeezes it in hers like I am a new born baby.

"Chanel, I'm so sorry." Ms. Wallace's voice rings with the Brooklyn accent until even her proper English sounds a little like slang.

I shrug and look away from her face that stares at me with sad eyes.

"As long as she's alive I'll be fine." I answer sheepishly and scratch at my arm that isn't itching at all. I want her to leave. I want to be alone with my Mother. I don't need to reminded that I am responsible for every unfortunate event that has happened to each person in this room. That's too much, but Ms. Wallace only means well and it would be rude to dismiss someone who only wants to help.

"I've asked to be reassigned to this room, I'd like to be your Mother's nurse specifically." Ms. Wallace's eyebrows rise up in a slant. Her voice so filled with compassion. She stands at the edge of Mom's bed now. Waiting for my response.

I look at my Mother, a few tubes running out of her nose, IV dripping in a bag to the side of her bed. I watch her eyes twitch as if she is about to wake up, but it's been doing that for a few hours and she hasn't, so I ignore it.

"I hope that's okay with you. There are other nurses here that will take care of her but I'll check on her a lot more often and make sure everything is going the way it should b-"

"Yea. It would mean a lot to have you looking after her. Thank you." I say honestly.

Trevon's Mother nods her head and takes out her stethoscope and puts it to Mom's chest. As she continues checking her vitals, I lay my head on the bed, right by my Mother's side and fall asleep.

I see the gold plate again. Far in the distance, maybe even farther from before.

I struggle deep within myself to remember if this is a previous dream or if my mind wants me to think it is a previous dream. I feel an assortment of people around me and though I cannot see the people, I know that they are here with me, waiting eagerly for me to reach the plate.

The plate that sits on the podium is so far away from me, it might as well not be there at all. I begin walking to it now with so much pressure on my back and so many waiting eyes that I forget about the part of the floor where the ground ends.

I fall again.

And gasp myself to consciousness.

"Whoa." Devin says quietly, attempting not to wake my Mother.

"It's just me, calm down." He says, putting his hands up in surrender. He sets something down on the food tray, something wrapped in foil. It smells amazing and my stomach growls in anticipation.

"Thought you might be hungry." Devin takes a seat across from the TV and stuffs his hands into his hoodie.

"Thanks." I respond. I begin unwrapping a chicken sandwich from a close by restaurant and only then do I notice how hungry I am, because I can only remember the first bite in. When I look down again, the sandwich is gone.

Ms. Wallace knocks twice then enters the room shortly and brings two apple juice and a water in a tray. She sets them by me.

"For Ma?" I ask politely.

"No, for you and your friend." She responds eyeing Devin first with confusion then with what looks to be anger.

He looks at her briefly, then redirects his gaze to the television, thinking little of it.

"Friend is correct." I answer assuring her.

She settles.

I see her shoulders rest.

"Have you spoken to him." She asks with confused eyes. She folds her arms and ultimately folds into herself. A topic she would much rather not talk about.

"Yes, he's well. Does he call you?" My question comes out in a blurt of noise.

Ms. Wallace shakes her head then shrugs.

"He thinks I'm too emotional. He hangs up when I begin to cry." She laughs, sheepishly.

I let out a small laugh but her truth makes me sad and I begin to hate myself for a moment.

"He's a tough guy. Crying throws him off." I mumble.

Ms. Wallace looks to Devin who has begun to doze off. His chin sinks into his chest and his head raises on each breath. She takes the moment to whisper to me.

"Thank you... for the support."

Now I really hate myself. Did she think I was doing this because I'm a nice person? Did she think she owed me something at all? I'm the prime reason her son is in jail. I step in to help her with the financial side that he was helping with but how do I help her emotionally?

How do I give her back the years her son will be spending in jail?

How do I fill the empty spot in her stomach when the table that was once set for three is now set for two?

"Please don't thank me for that." I swallow and the words go down hard.

"I just really appreciate it." She finishes. Her hands fidget and she places them awkwardly to the side of her.

I take a deep breath and make sure Devin is sleeping before speaking.

"It's all my fault. I'm the reason he's in there." I say under my breath. "So please don't thank me for helping out. I would really love that." I finish.

I notice the knot in my throat and I notice the build up of water in my eyes. I clear my throat and look up at Ms. Wallace who is now standing in front of me horrified.

"Baby, none of this is your fault!" She whispers firmly and I have a feeling that she is not just talking about Trevon's prison sentence.

"I don't ever want to hear you talkin' like that again. Ain't none of this anybody's fault but the people who did it." She stoops to my chair level and looks me in the eyes.

"You made my son do right all these years. That was you." I stare back at her eyes wide.

"You are the reason he ain't on these streets. You and Flex saved his life. And anytime he told me he was with you, I knew that he was doing something safe. Something I didn't have to worry about. You were my piece of mind, Chanel." She means every word she says and she says it with such authority that I want to lean forward and ask for more.

Her voice though strong in its whisper, spoke volumes.

"When he told me that you two were finally together..." She pauses and looks to the side. When she looks back at me, her eyes sparkle with liquid.

"When he told me that you two were together, I looked at him and said, 'This is where you change. This is where you become better to keep up with her. This is where you provide. This is where you love.'"

I wipe tear drops from my own eyes but my stare never leaves hers.

She lets the ball of water roll down her chin and fall on the white material, creating a grey spot.

"Chanel, you were his better." She stands up and straightens her scrubs.

"You were sculpting him before you even knew it. Don't you dare tell me not to thank you. You saved my son's life."

I nod understanding and more shocked than anything. Ms. Wallace walks to the door and before she closes it she turns back to me.

"Now drink your damn apple juice."