Just A Little More (769 hits)
Category: UberMadness! EntryRating: 1.33 on 7 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Loren (View user info) at 2004-10-11 18:17:09 EDT
This post was an official UberMadness! entry. Click here to view the original matchup.
I placed the tray down on my mother's bedside table, making sure to keep the tinkling of the antique china muffled. I looked over at her as she opened her eyes and we smiled together.
She looked at the tray than back at me giggling. "I can't believe you. You remember everything, don't you?" She said, shaking her head and slowly hoisting herself up to a sitting position.
"Mmmm, strawberries and cream lollypop and a MAD magazine. Perfect."
She thumbed through the comic book and rolled her eyes when she opened to "Spy Vs. Spy."
"I never could stand that strip." She said, "I just don't get the humor. But I love "The Lighter side of Life." Now there's a cartoonist. An artist."
She smiled again and patted the bed, motioning for me to sit beside her.
"What's up Mama?" I asked as I reached gingerly for the antique teapot. My mother loved to collect beautiful things. She and my father had spent countless hours scouring through hundreds of New England antique shops, picking up little treasures for their home and as gifts for all of us and the grandchildren. Nobody could find a treasure in what looked like a pile of junk quite like my mother.
"Karen, wait." Mama said, and reached for my hand, placing it in her own and cupping it. I stopped, and placed my free hand on hers and waited, knowing her tone, and knowing I didn't want her to continue on this path of conversation again.
"I haven't been feeling well lately," she said.
"Ma, please. Can we not talk about this?" I pleaded, trying not to let the crippling wave of panic and pain that engulfed me every time my mother's health was mentioned visible, but knew I had failed miserably, again.
My mother had been able to read me like a book since I was born, or at least as long as I could remember. "Karen I need to know you're going to be OK. You are my baby girl you know."
"Hell, Mama, you know I'm 'strong like bull,' - besides, you aren't going anywhere. I don't want you to even think that way. I want more time, and I'm a brat, so I must have my way always." I tried to joke, giving her a nudge in her side.
"OK, honey, you win. We don't have to talk about anything. I'm a little tired. Could you throw in 'Lost in Translation?' I'll watch that and nap a bit before dinner."
I couldn't help but giggle as I got up to check the DVD player. Yes, of course, the movie was in already. My mother would fall in love with a film and watch it dozens and dozens of times, appreciating each time in a brand new way. Thank goodness she finally broke down and bought a DVD player, because she had played some VHS tapes so many times that they wore out and would *have* to be replaced right away.
"Oh yeah, Ma, I'm making a lasagna tonight. Brussel sprouts on the side."
"What? Brussel sprouts?" she squinted as she asked.
"Kidding! I'm kidding. I was making sure you were paying attention."
"OK, then smartass. Get cooking," she said, as she adjusted her pillows, cuddled in, gave me a wink and pressed PLAY on the remote.
I sat next to her again and gave her small hands a gentle massage, making sure to not stare at her. I had a bad habit of doing that - trying to make sure I remembered every curve, every color, every line - every strand of her hair. It made her uncomfortable when I got dramatic, and I could understand why. Who wanted to be studied, after all?
I watched the first few minutes of her latest favorite movie and stroked her hair. Her breathing became heavier and she started snoring lightly.
"You're beautiful, Mama. I love you more than anything in the world." I said softly and kissed her forehead. She smiled slightly, made a soft sound, a mixture of a hum and a sigh, and mouthed "I love you too, baby girl." and slipped off to sleep.
-----------------------------------------
An hour later I placed the final strip of pasta on top of my lasagna, (well, my mother's lasagna, as any good meal I ever made was her recipe, or a close knockoff) placed it in the preheated oven and set the timer.
Although I was going through the motions, there was something in the air on this night - something different. I just couldn't get rid of the knot in my stomach. It had been there for months, but now it was suddenly intense, sharp and steady and making me feel as if I'd implode if I didn't push my chest and shoulders against it.
"Stop it. Stop it. Breathe Karen." I said to myself in a whisper. "Christ, I need a beer." One of Mama's codeines would be phenomenal right about now, I thought, but I need to take care of her, not be a useless sack of crap.
I sat for a few minutes at the old kitchen table, feeling the warmth from the oven and the familiar scent wafting with the waves of heat. I Looked around the room and thought of all the family dinners we shared over all the years, and wished I could remember every detail of every second of every day leading to this moment - just to repeat it and relive it forever until my own end. I never had a high threshold for pain, at least emotional pain, I had come to accept that fact, even though I resented it.
Dusk was approaching quickly as I picked at the label of Red Dog beer in front of me. I wasn't crazy about that beer. It was my father's favorite, probably because it was so cheap. He loved a good deal. It made everything taste better to him.
I instinctively reached for the phone and pressed #5 - send. My mother arranged the speed-dial numbers in order of all her children's ages, to be fair of course. She was always thinking of everyone else's feelings, even down to the most simple or inane things.
"Hello, Ma?" my sister's voice spoke from the other end.
"No Ginny, it's me."
"What's wrong?" She barked.
"I'm making lasagna."
"Oh, OK," her voice went back down to it's normal neurotic pitch, "I'll be there at the usual time. How's John? Giving you any shit for spending so much time at Ma's?"
"No, Gin, he's not like your husband. He's not a dickhead."
"Ha ha!" she laughed. "You're a bitch. But you're right. Now tell me what's going on. I hear something in your voice."
"Gin..." I took a deep, shaky breath, and rambled away: "Have you ever thought of the possibility that you could love another person too much? Is it possible to? Oh God. I don't know. I don't know what the fuck I'm saying. It's just that I feel as if something's wrong and I'm frozen. And the more I sit here the more frozen I become. I think I'm starting to panic. Maybe I'm being paranoid. A feeling came over me as soon as I put dinner in the oven. I'm scared. I feel sick to my stomach. Come over, please. Now Ginny, OK?"
The prompt click on the line let me know she was on her way.
I knew I didn't do a good job with my voice - it must have sounded constricted - a lame attempt at self-control, and I felt guilty that I was using my sister as a sounding board when she was going through this in her own way, battling her own pain already. She's a good big sister, I thought, as I poured my beer in a tall glass, drank deeply, and considered hitting the liquor cabinet next.
I heard the rumble of Ginny's SUV in the driveway, and the crunch in the gravel as it skidded briefly to a stop alongside the back door that led into the kitchen. A slam and a second later, she stood in front of me.
"Let's go upstairs. I'll turn the oven off." She said.
I put out my hand and she took it, and we walked together up the long flight of creaky wooden stairs to our mother's bedroom.
Credits rolled on the television set and soft music played. I halted at the entrance to the room, blankly staring at my mother's form on the king-sized bed. That bed. It made her look even tinier than she was.
Ginny walked across and sat beside our mother and took her hand. A second or two later she turned to me as if in slow motion. Saying nothing, the white of her frozen face told me what I had already known in a deep, distant place.
I swooned and reached for the foot of the bed. Red-hot, wet heat pushed against and through my eyes from the inside and in my tightening throat I felt it coming - every ounce of the loneliness and missing I had tried to prepare myself to face came out in a grotesque moan. "Uuuuuughhhhnn! Nooo!!! NOOO!! I'm not ready! Oh no! It's not true. No no no no no..." I sobbed and shook. Suddenly standing straight, I raced toward my mother's dresser and swept the thirty-plus bottles of this and that prescription medication up and across the room in blind rage and grief. Bottles and pills through across the room and I screamed again and again. Ginny grabbed me and held me and we sobbed together until we were both too tired to sob anymore.
"Karen, we're going to be OK. We're all going to be OK." My sister was amazing. She was somehow able to pull herself together and find enough strength for both of us.
"I wanted a little more time. I just wanted more time with her Ginny! I just..." I choked and I couldn't help being reminded of a tantrum I threw as a child.
"I don't think I can handle this Ginny! I know can't handle it. I don't wanna."
Ginny stood, quickly locating a bottle of painkillers among the mess scattered about the room and handed me two.
"Take them, they will calm you down. I will make all the calls. I want you to calm down honey, OK?"
I swallowed as ordered, not caring about whether it was a good idea or not, just wanting to escape, and needing simply to listen to someone else's orders.
Ginny led me downstairs and sat me on the sofa, covering me with an old quilt, one of many our mother had made. Beautiful creations, each design original, each stitch made by hand, on by one with near mechanical precision.
"I'll be right back. I'm going to straighten up, and then I'll be in the kitchen making calls if you need me. Will you be OK?" Ginny asked, with amazing strength and love in her voice. Sometimes I wished I was more like her.
"Yeah, Gin. Yeah. Thank you." I said, with fresh tears fighting to break loose and my eyes swelling and reddening. I turned from her and grabbed a tissue to blow my nose.
The pills took a hold of me quickly. Much more quickly than I could have hoped for, I pulled my mother's quilt to my face and breathed in her scent as I slipped into a deep, chemical sleep and dreamed.
----------------------
"I'm not tired, I'm just resting my eyes..." I argued, in my little four year old voice.
"Come on, time for bed." Papa said, as he scooped me up into his strong arms.
He cradled me as he stood and leaned me in toward my mother, offering me to her for my good night kiss.
"Please! Just a little more!" I begged, "Let me stay up just a little more. I wanna be with you guys."
Standing up with a soft sigh Mama smiled and said "Here, give her to me." And she carried me up the old wooden stairs to the room at the end of the hall. She placed me into my single bed and squeezed in next to me, cuddling.
Stroking the curls of hair away from my small round face she hummed softly.
"Go to sleep my beautiful girl and wake again tomorrow to a brand new world..."
"No, you're beautiful Mama..." I said, as I surrendered to my sleepiness.
"Shhh, go to sleep now baby girl, I love you."
User Reviews
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-05-08 13:10:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
howto is a cunt!
Submitted by c1ndy (user info) at 2005-05-08 13:03:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
to balance!
Submitted by howto (user info) at 2005-05-08 12:54:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
No Comment
Submitted by TigerLilly (user info) at 2005-02-24 16:58:12 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I had to come back today and read this again. Apparently I enjoy crying.
Submitted by stardamage (user info) at 2005-02-23 14:51:53 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Oh for fuck's sake. I need to go call my mom now and make sure she's still there.
It breaks my heart to know that one day I will wake up an orphan. I hope it doesn't happen for a long long time.
Submitted by TigerLilly (user info) at 2005-02-23 14:33:37 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Loren this is the first story I've read on this site that brought me to tears.
Absolutely amazing! You need to write more often.
Submitted by youarsoghey (user info) at 2005-01-16 11:49:54 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment