Hoping Differently

Before, I thought a house changed when you repainted the walls, when you moved the furniture, or when you bought a new sofa.

I didn't know that a house could change while everything stayed exactly in the same place.

At our house, the sofa is still against the wall, the table is still near the window, Abi's shoes are still stored too close to the door.

And yet, for some time now, our house is no longer quite the same.

It started slowly.

At first, Oummi only said she was tired.

I didn't find that strange.

Adults are often tired.

Oummi said she was tired when she had worked a lot, when she had slept badly, or when my little brother had woken up several times during the night.

So when she started sitting down more often, I didn't really think about it.

One Wednesday, I asked her if she wanted to come with me to buy paper for my presentation.

She was lying on the sofa.

She answered me, not today, my darling.

I asked her, tomorrow?

She smiled.

We'll see tomorrow.

I didn't like that answer very much.

We'll see tomorrow, that often meant that no one really knew.

The next day, she didn't come either.

Abi accompanied me.

In the car, I looked out the window almost the whole way.

Then I asked, why is Oummi always tired?

Abi kept his eyes on the road.

She is sick right now.

I knew the word sick.

I had already been sick.

Once, I had such a high fever that I didn't even feel like watching television.

I drank a lot of water, took medicine, slept for two days, then I went back to school.

So I asked, how many days will she stay home?

Abi didn't answer right away.

We don't know yet.

Another answer I didn't like.

The days passed.

Oummi had appointments.

Sometimes, she left in the morning with Abi and came back several hours later.

Other times, she only came back in the evening.

One day, I heard her talking on the phone.

She was saying words I didn't know.

Tests, results, treatment.

I didn't listen for long.

Well, not on purpose.

I still stayed in the hallway for a few seconds.

Then I left before she could see me.

From that day on, I started noticing many things.

The way Abi asked Oummi several times if she had eaten.

The way Oummi said, I'm fine, even though I could clearly see that it wasn't always fine.

The conversations that stopped when I entered a room.

The phone calls after which Abi remained silent.

And that little box of medicine that had appeared on the kitchen cabinet.

I didn't like that box.

It hadn't done anything, after all.

But I didn't like it.

One afternoon, I came home from school with a drawing I had made in class.

I had worked on it for almost an hour.

It was a house surrounded by trees, with a big sun in the corner.

The teacher had written, very nice work.

I wanted to show it to Oummi.

I went into her room.

She was sleeping.

I approached.

Oummi?

She opened her eyes.

Yes, my darling?

Look what I made.

She sat up a little.

I showed her my drawing.

She smiled.

It's beautiful.

I knew she meant it.

But her eyes were almost closing.

I asked, do you want me to tell you how I made it?

She looked at the drawing again.

Then she told me softly, can you tell me later? I'm really tired.

I answered, yes, it's okay.

Then I left.

I went to my room.

I put the drawing on my desk.

And I started to cry.

Not much.

Just enough to be annoyed at myself.

Because Oummi was sick.

And I was sad because of a drawing.

I told myself it was selfish.

So I wiped my eyes before anyone could see me.

For several days, I tried to be perfect.

I put my things away before being asked.

I didn't complain when Abi told me to go to bed.

When I had a problem at school, I kept it to myself.

Even when my little brother annoyed me, I tried not to argue with him.

I wanted to help.

Above all, I didn't want to add anything more.

One evening, I was in the kitchen with Oummi.

She was sitting while I put away the cutlery.

She looked at me.

Sabrina?

Yes?

Are you okay?

I answered very quickly, yes.

She continued to look at me.

Then she asked, why have you become so well-behaved all of a sudden?

I stopped putting things away.

I'm always well-behaved.

She smiled.

Of course.

I knew she didn't believe me.

So I picked up the cutlery again.

She asked me, did something happen at school?

I answered, no.

That was a lie.

A girl in my class had said something that had hurt me a few days earlier.

But it seemed ridiculous to me now.

Oummi was sick.

I wasn't going to talk to her about that.

She asked me, are you sure?

I nodded.

Then she said a sentence I didn't expect.

Just because I'm sick doesn't mean you have to stop being my daughter.

I turned around.

She still had that same look.

Tired.

But the same.

I asked her, what does that mean?

It means you still have the right to have problems, to be sad, to get angry, to come and tell me a story that's too long when I'm tired.

I lowered my eyes.

She added, I am still your Oummi.

I don't know why, but that sentence made me cry.

This time, a lot.

I went closer to her.

She held me against her.

I was careful not to hurt her.

I told her, I'm afraid of making you even more tired.

She ran her hand through my hair.

You don't tire me because you need me.

I stayed against her.

Then, without really thinking, I asked the question.

The question I had kept in my head for days.