The following day, Dillon was discharged. Dad had already returned home in order to go back to work. But Mum was still with him.

‘Am I glad to be getting out of here,’ said Dillon, as they waited at the nurses’ station. ‘Hospitals are sooooooo boring.’

‘Yes, yes,’ said Mum. ‘I know. You’ve only complained about it a thousand times or so.’

Dillon stuck his tongue out playfully. Mum did the same.

‘Sorry to interrupt, Mrs Grayson,’ said the nurse behind the station. ‘Here is the discharge paperwork.’

Both Dillon and Mum reddened a bit.

As Mum turned her attention to the nurse, Dillon looked around the nurses’ station, with its waiting area, which was like a guard post dividing the patient rooms from the outside world. No one in or out without the appropriate forms.

Yep, I’ll be glad to get out of here, he thought.

Then he noticed that he was being stared at. Over in the corner of the waiting area were a middle-aged man and woman. They were both watching him.

As he turned to their direction, the man immediately looked away. But the woman continued to watch. She even smiled at him. It was a small, sad smile. A smile that could break your heart.

Dillon noticed that the couple looked tired and haggard – as if they hadn’t slept or eaten in days. He wondered if their son or daughter was in one of the rooms, recovering from an operation.

He went over to Mum, who was filling in a form on the counter. ‘How long is this going to take?’

‘Be patient,’ snapped Mum. ‘They’re not going to let you out of here until all this is done. Leave me be and I’ll get it finished a lot quicker.’

Dillon huffed and went to sit down. The couple were watching him again. Dillon smiled and waved. The man’s eyes welled up with tears and he clutched a hand to his mouth. The woman touched his arm softly, but it seemed to do little good. He got to his feet, shaking his head. ‘I can’t do this,’ he croaked, and rushed from the room. Dillon thought the woman was about to do something similar, but she took a deep breath and composed herself.

Dillon couldn’t seem to look away, even though he felt awkward about watching. It felt like he was intruding on a very private moment.

Slowly, the woman got to her feet and made to follow the man. But part way to the exit she stopped and turned back. She looked at Dillon again. He saw a resigned determination wash over her face. It was as if she had just come to a decision – an important, life-changing decision.

And then she was walking towards him.

‘Hello,’ she said in a raspy voice. She cleared her throat and continued. ‘You’re Dillon, aren’t you?’

‘Yes,’ said Dillon, puzzled by how she knew.

‘I … I …’ She hesitated. ‘I just wanted to meet you. To see … to see what you were like.’ She reached out a hand and rested it on his cheek. Dillon could feel the trembling of her fingers. ‘You seem like a nice boy.’

She took her hand back and turned to go, then stopped again. She turned back to look at him one last time, with eyes so sad they could have drowned a city in tears. ‘I am very glad that your operation was a success.’

Dillon’s eyes widened. He suddenly recognised the sadness in the woman’s eyes. It was the same sadness he had seen at the funeral when his grandfather had died. It was grief!

As the woman made her way to the door, Dillon knew who she must be. And that she had found him.

‘Wait!’ he called after her.

The nurse glared at him disapprovingly. Mum turned to stare at him questioningly. The woman stopped in the doorway but didn’t look back.

Dillon hesitated, his throat tightening, his mind uncertain.

‘Thank you,’ he finally said. ‘Thank you so much.’

The woman nodded and rushed out.