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CHAPTER 9: THE MOTHER

It was nightfall, the moon shone brightly in a cloudless night and Tom stood in front of the Banks’ residence. Unbeknownst to Yvonne and Suzanne, he had been here before. But only as a guest. He had been invited to the Mayor’s ball the last Christmas as a guest and speaker. He had even chatted with William Banks that night and had found the man to be as charming as the media had made him out to be.

“You look like someone I used to know,” William had laughed as they stood by the firewall, sipping Chardonnay while a violinist strode past them playing Last Christmas.

Did I remind you of Yvonne? He thought to himself. Life would certainly have been vastly different had he grown up a member of the Banks family, and not just someone who bore the same surname.

*But what’s past is past. I’m here to say goodbye to him. *

Tom stepped up to the door and rang the doorbell.

The door opened.

“Tom Banks! “ Mrs Banks beamed when she saw Tom. He had rung ahead requesting for a visit and his request had been warmly accepted. It seemed that William Banks did not have much time left.

“Come in. We’ve been expecting you," Mrs Banks ushered Tom into the brightly lit foyer. A maid came to take off his jacket and Tom followed Mrs Banks into the living room.

He suddenly felt like an intruder. Perhaps he shouldn’t have come.

“Thank you for having me, Mrs Banks. My apologies for inconveniencing you and your family. “

Mrs Banks smiled warmly and handed over a cup of tea that the maid had brought into Tom. The was the exact same woman who had threatened his mother years ago.

“Shush darling, William would have been so happy to see you. I’m happy to see you. We’ve all been a fan of yours ever since we heard of your speech. Ghosts! Phew! You put my grandchildren’s worries to rest with that wonderful explanation for yours. So simple and yet so straight to the point. They’re not afraid of the dark anymore, those kids. “

Ghosts. I’ve met a few lately. Tom thought wryly as he took a sip of the Darjeeling tea.

“How is Mr Banks?” he asked, changing the subject. He scanned around but did not see his mother. They were supposed to meet here.

Mrs Banks’ face fell, and she shook her head,

“He’s not doing so well. I’d let you meet him, but he’s been sedated. The doctors can’t do much for him except to give him morphine and to ease his pain. It’s stage 3 now. The best we can do is keep him comfortable.”

“I see. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to spend a few moments with him? He’s like the father I never had.” He is the father I never had.

“That’s so sweet of you Tom. I guess it’s alright. But I must warn you, he won’t be able to give much of a response,” Mrs Banks stood up, Tom followed suit. The window of opportunity had arrived.

They walked to the very end of the hallway and stopped in front of a room. The door was fully opened, and Tom could see Yvonne, shimmering in the night light sitting right next to William’s bed. She was gently stroking his head, like how one would stoke a cat. William stirred in his sleep. Could it be that he sensed her presence?

“Julius, would you excuse us for a moment? Tom Banks is here to see Papa,” Mrs Banks called out to her youngest son. He had been sitting by his father’s bedside the whole day, holding his hand, and reading him his favourite book. The lanky youngster stood up, eyes bleary from the lack of sleep, and nodded. He smiled politely at Tom and left the room.

Yvonne saw Tom and stood up, beckoning him to come closer to his father. Tom stepped forward nervously. As if sensing Tom’s discomfort, Mrs Banks placed her hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll give you a few moments with William. You can talk to him in private.”

Her gentleness surprised him. It made him feel even more guilty. He felt like a child who was stealing someone else’s candy.

“Thank you,” was all he could say. Mrs Banks stepped out of the room but left the door slightly ajar.

Tom sat in the chair of William’s youngest son. He stared at his father’s face. Last Christmas, Tom had spoken to a vibrant, energetic, and healthy-looking William Banks. And yet, the William Banks who laid before him now had pale pasty skin with laboured breathing. Tom gingerly took William’s hand in his. It was practically skin and bones. He gently massaged his fingers.

Yvonne looked on silently.

Tom looked at Yvonne, whispering, “You wanted me to come and say goodbye.”

Yes,” she said simply. She touched William’s forehead and he stirred a little more.

Mother and son looked at William Banks as the moonlight shone in through the open window. A gentle breeze picked up and blew at the curtains, causing them to flap against Yvonne’s shimmery figure.

William’s eyes opened, and for a moment, it seemed as though he could see Yvonne. His hand lifted slightly before falling back down as he tried to talk but only gurgled murmurs could be heard. The monitor recorded an increase in his heartbeat and Tom stood up, suddenly worried that William Banks’ heart would stop beating.

Yvonne simply placed her hand gently on his forehead, “It’s just me William. Our son is here to see you.”

William’s eyes closed and he seemed to drift off to sleep once more, but not before a single tear slipped from the corner of his eyes.

Mrs Banks came in not long after that, having heard the spike in the heart monitor. “Is everything alright?” she asked with a nervous smile, glancing at her husband.

Tom looked at William Banks too, “Yes. Everything’s fine. I should take my leave. It was good to see William.” He held onto his father's hand once more and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Yvonne smiled reassuringly at him, “I’ll meet you at Suzanne’s place tomorrow Tom. I’d like to spend some more time with William.” Tom nodded slightly and turned to leave. What happened next took him by surprise. He felt his father’s hand squeeze back. He looked back at William.

It could have been just a reflex. He thought to himself. He let go and bid his farewell to Mrs Banks.

The maid led him out and he stepped into the night, looking up at the full moon. He suddenly felt weary and needed a shoulder to lean on.

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