They woke up the next day as soon as the sun was at its’ peak, Judas was already brushing his teeth in front of the mirror with a hand leaning onto the sink, Cay felt the exhaustion from yesterday’s expedition and slow from yesterday’s smoking-session. Habitually, he took a towel and went straight for the shower after saying good morning to everyone who has not left or not awaken yet.
They boarded the tram from yesterday’s route and went into town for breakfast, the later a bit tour at the museums. The streets of Amsterdam were teeming with pedestrians on foot or bike, busying their way through the bustling crowd, some to work and some joyously strolling along the river. The weather then was a contrast to yesterday’s and people seemed livelier than ever. The two settled down on a bench after buying filled-breads from one of the bakeries nearby, with two cups of coffee settled on both armrests. The view in front of them was less enjoyable but more than amusing enough to stare at: Tour guides with red caps leading a group of Asian tourists, kids wearing jackets with childish patterns on the fabrics playfully jumping outside the iron fence of Saint Nicholas Church, and flower in rectangular pots strapped on the railings of the arched bridges radiating mischievous blooms.
There was a market filled with books and elderly gentlemen and ladies who were probably there to add more reading materials to their shelves of collectibles. The old, worn-out covers of the books only had Dutch descriptions printed on them, it would be a vain attempt to read one, but Cay felt delighted of the prospect of a market solely for used books. Judas trailed behind him as they paced themselves slowly between stalls.
“Can you read Dutch?”, Cay turned his head to the side when he spoke.
“No, I can’t”
“Do you like reading?”
“I’ve read a few books before, but it’s not much of a hobby.”
Cay had his left fingers tracing along the rugged surfaces of the books, each of them feeling the time that took the toll on these relics yet seemed so much more valuable than when they were freshly-printed and picked up for the first time.
“You know, you can have my book if you want to read something.”
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”
“It’s an enjoyable book, you know.”, Cay felt uneasy to lend his books out, but would feel even worse had he not made out the gesture.
Judas did not reply but continued to scan around the stalls. There were some items that were not books, such as bookmarks and a surprising number of small antics, which were not seemed too misplaced amongst other old things.
The Van Gogh Museum was open during the day, Cay suggested that they would visit there once they have exited the market from the other end. There were some attractions that must be visited before their departure. Although they would not be leaving until tomorrow, It was better to make haste instead of being entrapped in a wonderful area such as this one, Cay thought.
It only took a question for direction from one of the pedestrians in exchange for a clear direction to the Museum where Van Gogh’s past work and essence have been preserved. The journey felt more like an on-going pilgrimage, from the reminiscence of modern art to infallible ideas that paved the way of places of interests. They have ventured across parts of Europe and knew that there was much to see yet so little time to be.
*
Alexandre woke up on a Friday evening just when Judas visited the hospital after his shift had ended. Her eyes squinting from the bright fluorescent light above her as she later found her son holding onto her right hand, his verdict contained only shaky emotions and tired relief.
“My boy.”, as she stroked Judas’s cheeks with her hand released from her son’s holding.
“How long has it been?”, she added.
“Nearly a month, mother.”, she could sense his mother feeling him, his uncertainty despite her recovery.
“That long?”, she sighed.
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“Yes, mother. It felt like forever.”
Her hand never left her son’s face until fatigued overwhelmed her, forcing her to retreat completely back to her bed. She never took her gaze off Judas; the cervical collar proved a stiffed distraction from the shard pain she felt below her chest. Their room was in complete darkness other than the lit light above them, engulfed by a half-transparent curtain hanging on the ceiling, a thin layer of protection around the mother and son.
“Where’s your father?”, Alexandre suddenly remembered and asked.
The sentence had such a powerful force that Judas felt the choking sensation building up just below his neck, he averted his eyes from his mothers’, which looked weary with an emerging panic.
“Son, where’s your father?”, she asked again with more force, her voice dry from the hospital ventilation.
The only answer Judas returned was a silent confirmation, his slumped shoulders and shameful side of his face were the only effort he could muster. The sight only strengthened the suspicion of his mother that had grew in her since she remembered about the alleyway, she covered both of her mouth and let out a cry. Judas sat on the chair beside his mother, listening to her wails, later diminished into pathetic sobs, all the while dared not to move for fear that he would only worsen the situation.
After an hour, he contacted the nurse on duty at that time about his mothers’ awakening. A doctor was sent to her room to check on her, a list on a piece of paper laid on a plastic clipboard in one hand and a soothing voice when he came entered the room. Perhaps it was based on experience when he tried coaxing Judas’s mother to calm down, in order to answer some of the questions as prepared on the paper. Alexandre’s eyes were tired from the long hour of crying, the pain on her body became too much to bear and her coughs sounded excruciating. He could only feel a numbness in his head as he stared at the side of the bed as the questions from the doctor drowned amidst the grim atmosphere.
There was not much he could do, as he stood up and walked out of the room, leaving his mother to the mercy of the doctor’s dutiful routine. He had longed for the silence since his mother began crying, the aching pain faded ever so slightly when he shut the door behind him, the muffled sound of her sobs were still audible in his minds.
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