Title: Waiting for the 196
Author: Ellie
Rating: G
Summary: "He tried to remember the last trip he’d taken with
his mother."

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Foreman sipped his coffee, too hot still, and watched the people
flow past him. The revolving doors of Union Station admitted a
flurry of commuters and Congressional employees in bland
colors and tourists in tube socks. With a glance at his watch, he
twisted his wrist and ate a bite of his sandwich as he watched two
boys with bright red backpacks try to drag their mother through
one of the revolving doors; he smiled as she deftly maneuvered
the trio through the central door, which swung open to the bright
sunshine.

He tried to remember the last trip he’d taken with his mother. It
had been high school, he thought, maybe the summer before
junior year, when they’d crossed the Bay bridge and gone down
to Maryland’s eastern shore for a week. During college he’d
worked every summer, as she started slipping away, then he
started medical school and hadn’t come back.

Twice in the last year he’d taken her on little trips in the area, out
to Mount Vernon for the afternoon or Annapolis for lunch. She
hadn’t remained lucid enough to appreciate either effort. This
visit he hadn’t tried.

It wouldn’t have been worth the effort. She barely recognized
him even in her good moments, and most of the time didn’t
remember that she had a son. Three times in the first hour he’d
spent with her, watching some pointless talk show with angry, fat
women, he’d had to remind her who he was and why he was
there.

Sighing, he scrubbed a hand across his forehead and tried to
forget. Things would be so much easier if he could just forget
everything, the way she had. It wouldn’t be so painful if he
forgot about her as often as her memory failed her. Instead, he
felt a constant nagging reminder, every time House made a smart
comment about him being a neurologist, or he saw his own
business card. So much knowledge, and none of it could help
her.

She hadn’t wanted him to be a doctor. Even after a lifetime in
this corrupt, filthy city, she’d wanted him to go into law, to help
people that way, or to be a politician, administrate a better life for
others. He could have done it, intellectually, but he didn’t have
the heart to put on a contrived façade every day he went to work.
It was the one thing he admired about working for House—there
was no façade at all. His mother had appreciated the polite
veneer of courtesy, but Eric preferred the stark truth.

Honestly, he knew she’d be lucky to make it another year. He
figured he had two or three more trips down to see her, maybe
four if he could get off for Thanksgiving. When his father had
called Thursday, he was worried this would be his last trip down
to see her. All his knowledge did was reassure him that she had
at least another six painful months ahead of her, and her doctors
confirmed as much.

He took a gulp of the cooling coffee, trying not to grimace at the
taste and his mother’s prospects. He tried to tell himself that the
sting in his eyes was just the hot liquid burning his throat.

Over the bustling humanity broke the disembodied
announcement that "the 196 with regional service between
Washington, D.C. and Penn Station, New York" was now
boarding at gate G3. Foreman crushed the remnants of his
sandwich in their wrapper and tossed them in the nearest
receptacle. Slinging his red backpack over one shoulder, he left
the enclosed dining area and joined the sea of people, long habit
guiding him toward the departure gate.

****
End
****