The call took place at 6:00am.
“Uncle Fred is dead.”
My mother’s voice croaked on the other side if of the plastic speaker. I couldn’t speak, once again my words left my throat and my knees buckled from under me. I fell back on the bed, eyes wide and fixed on the closet door of my father and step mother’s bed room.
“Sweetie?”
My mother’s voice asked, still struggling to not to cry.
Silent tear ran down my painted cheeks, carving lines through my makeup “Does Mitch know?” I asked, keeping my voice as even as I could.
“no.”
“okay,” I forced myself to stand from the bed, my eyes still lingering for some reason of the checkered pattern on the closet door. I don’t even remember handing the phone to my step mom, maybe she slipped it from me when I was staring at the door?
I walked down the hallway, whipping the tears from my face and knocked on the door “Mitch, can I open?” I got a groggy ‘okay’ as my answer and pushed the door open slowly. He was no longer seven anymore, but he was still grumpy when woken.
“What is it?”
He was lying on his bed; his features lit by the light from the TV making him look paler than he really was. He looked tired. “Uncle Fred passed away last night.” I said quietly. I was doing so well not crying in front of my brother, I was his big sister, I had to be strong for him.
His face fell, and the only word that came from his mouth was “no,” tears started to roll down his cheeks, tinted blue from the light of the TV. Then he covered his eyes to stop me from seeing him cry, but I could still see the blue tears fall to his mattress. “No” he repeated, and I walked the short distance between us so I could wrap him in a hug.
My eyes burned, and my tears fell tinted blue.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Nails
I remember it like it was yesterday.
I was working in the dining room, my homework papers filled with crooked ten year old writing scattered the wooden surface along with my binder and pencils. I chewed on my bottom lip as I stared at a half-finished, grammatically incorrect sentence in front of me.
What was that word I was trying to spell?
After sounding it out didn’t get me any closer to figuring out the word, I let out a soft sigh and gave up. I placed my number two pencil on the table, strategically behind my pink eraser so it wouldn’t roll off the table as I made the track up stairs to my mother’s room.
The whole house was dark except for the light in the dining room, and the light streaming from under the half-closed bathroom door of my mother’s bed room. Mommy and Daddy didn’t sleep in the same house anymore, so it was just my mom, my brother and I. My mom was in the tub, I could hear the water running, and my little brother was in our parents’ bed.
Well, for the moment, it was just my mother’s.
I opened the door slowly, whispering to get my mother’s attention at first so I wouldn’t wake my brother. He was seven at the time, and grumpy when woken. But when the only thing that answered me was the sound of running water, I pushed the door open a little more, and called a little louder, “Mommy?”
Still there was only water.
Push a little more and call little louder, “Mommy?”
And still only water answered me.
By this time I was all the way into the bathroom; I couldn’t push anymore and I couldn’t call any louder. My voice was lost to the sound of the water. Hurrying; voice still caught in my throat, I kicked my way through the sea of empty pill bottles, to the tap and stopped the water. I would have been heard, if I could speak.
The water lapped at my mother’s nose and I reached to the bottom of the tub in a feeble attempt to remove the plug from the drain, but the chain was gone and I had nothing to grip. But I got my voice back “Mom!” I said a little more loudly, but not loud enough to wake my brother in the next room. I was the older sister; I couldn’t let my brother see his mom like this.
I moved to the other side of the tub, water dripping from my down my arm as I pulled on my mother’s shoulder. She moved, but her eyes didn’t open, and she didn’t say anything I could understand. “Stand up mom!” I ordered, pulling on her arm with all my might.
She moved, but still her eyes did not open, and she still couldn’t say much.
With my help she lifted herself from the bathtub and wobbled amongst the bottles I didn’t fully kick out of the way. I put her bathrobe on her, and she stumbled from the bathroom into the bedroom, and into the side of her bed.
I tensed, watching my brother chest rise and fall, rise and fall, on the opposite side of the bed. He didn’t stir, still fast asleep. I walked around my mother; half on the bed, half on the floor, with a pink bathroom tied around her and I grabbed the phone. My fingers flew into a pattern I knew well, not 911 but... “Daddy, something’s wrong with mom.”
He said he would be right over; so again my fingers flew to numbers I knew well, I called 911 and waited on the bed beside my mother’s sleeping form, nudging her whenever I thought she was getting too quiet. The lady on the other end of the phone was nice, she kept me calm, and when my father arrived she told me to wait down stairs for the ambulance so I could point them where to go.
They got there quick enough, and I pointed them up stairs.
My mother was gone in a matter of minutes.
I don’t remember biting my nails before that night.
I was working in the dining room, my homework papers filled with crooked ten year old writing scattered the wooden surface along with my binder and pencils. I chewed on my bottom lip as I stared at a half-finished, grammatically incorrect sentence in front of me.
What was that word I was trying to spell?
After sounding it out didn’t get me any closer to figuring out the word, I let out a soft sigh and gave up. I placed my number two pencil on the table, strategically behind my pink eraser so it wouldn’t roll off the table as I made the track up stairs to my mother’s room.
The whole house was dark except for the light in the dining room, and the light streaming from under the half-closed bathroom door of my mother’s bed room. Mommy and Daddy didn’t sleep in the same house anymore, so it was just my mom, my brother and I. My mom was in the tub, I could hear the water running, and my little brother was in our parents’ bed.
Well, for the moment, it was just my mother’s.
I opened the door slowly, whispering to get my mother’s attention at first so I wouldn’t wake my brother. He was seven at the time, and grumpy when woken. But when the only thing that answered me was the sound of running water, I pushed the door open a little more, and called a little louder, “Mommy?”
Still there was only water.
Push a little more and call little louder, “Mommy?”
And still only water answered me.
By this time I was all the way into the bathroom; I couldn’t push anymore and I couldn’t call any louder. My voice was lost to the sound of the water. Hurrying; voice still caught in my throat, I kicked my way through the sea of empty pill bottles, to the tap and stopped the water. I would have been heard, if I could speak.
The water lapped at my mother’s nose and I reached to the bottom of the tub in a feeble attempt to remove the plug from the drain, but the chain was gone and I had nothing to grip. But I got my voice back “Mom!” I said a little more loudly, but not loud enough to wake my brother in the next room. I was the older sister; I couldn’t let my brother see his mom like this.
I moved to the other side of the tub, water dripping from my down my arm as I pulled on my mother’s shoulder. She moved, but her eyes didn’t open, and she didn’t say anything I could understand. “Stand up mom!” I ordered, pulling on her arm with all my might.
She moved, but still her eyes did not open, and she still couldn’t say much.
With my help she lifted herself from the bathtub and wobbled amongst the bottles I didn’t fully kick out of the way. I put her bathrobe on her, and she stumbled from the bathroom into the bedroom, and into the side of her bed.
I tensed, watching my brother chest rise and fall, rise and fall, on the opposite side of the bed. He didn’t stir, still fast asleep. I walked around my mother; half on the bed, half on the floor, with a pink bathroom tied around her and I grabbed the phone. My fingers flew into a pattern I knew well, not 911 but... “Daddy, something’s wrong with mom.”
He said he would be right over; so again my fingers flew to numbers I knew well, I called 911 and waited on the bed beside my mother’s sleeping form, nudging her whenever I thought she was getting too quiet. The lady on the other end of the phone was nice, she kept me calm, and when my father arrived she told me to wait down stairs for the ambulance so I could point them where to go.
They got there quick enough, and I pointed them up stairs.
My mother was gone in a matter of minutes.
I don’t remember biting my nails before that night.
Tea and Pills
Her neck arched against the back of the chair exposing her throat to anyone who might just feel like killing her that day. But she couldn’t care less; she was too preoccupied with the swirling pattern in her mother’s stucco ceiling. She only moved her head when the spit in her mouth became too much hold and she had to swallow; making her neck straight to open her oesophagus.
Lord she was tired.
She let her head fall, so her chin hit her chest. Her vision blurred with an on-coming headache and she pushed herself from the couch to wander into the kitchen. Tea, that’s what she wanted. Something with a bit of caffeine to keep her awake a bit longer.
Her body felt sluggish and heavy, like everything was on autopilot. She felt as though her whole body was numb. Her dark, heavy lidded eyes lingered a little too long on the knife drawer before she finally turned her attention to acquiring her favourite mug from her cupboard.
Next was the tea.
Not chamomile, not earl gray or sleeping time, no green tea with lemon. Where was the Chai tea? Too tired to be really annoyed she pushed the unwanted tins back into their place on the shelf. As she pushed the last box of tea into place, she nudged another case that was balanced on top of the numerous boxes of dried leaves and flowers. The case slid from a tower of herbal leaves to land into her hands. It was then that she notice what it was, and without so much as a caring glace, she replaced it back on the shelf and dug out her Chai.
She thought it ironic.
The same thing that put her mom in the hospital all those years ago, was now supposed to keep her grounded. As she started to put the box of Chai back into its place, the rectangular case slipped from its perch again, as if forcing her to see it.
Only this time when she put it back on the self, she did not do it quietly so the pills wouldn’t rattle and wake her mother.
Lord she was tired.
She let her head fall, so her chin hit her chest. Her vision blurred with an on-coming headache and she pushed herself from the couch to wander into the kitchen. Tea, that’s what she wanted. Something with a bit of caffeine to keep her awake a bit longer.
Her body felt sluggish and heavy, like everything was on autopilot. She felt as though her whole body was numb. Her dark, heavy lidded eyes lingered a little too long on the knife drawer before she finally turned her attention to acquiring her favourite mug from her cupboard.
Next was the tea.
Not chamomile, not earl gray or sleeping time, no green tea with lemon. Where was the Chai tea? Too tired to be really annoyed she pushed the unwanted tins back into their place on the shelf. As she pushed the last box of tea into place, she nudged another case that was balanced on top of the numerous boxes of dried leaves and flowers. The case slid from a tower of herbal leaves to land into her hands. It was then that she notice what it was, and without so much as a caring glace, she replaced it back on the shelf and dug out her Chai.
She thought it ironic.
The same thing that put her mom in the hospital all those years ago, was now supposed to keep her grounded. As she started to put the box of Chai back into its place, the rectangular case slipped from its perch again, as if forcing her to see it.
Only this time when she put it back on the self, she did not do it quietly so the pills wouldn’t rattle and wake her mother.
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