Numb
*
Those on the outside.
“I’m about an hour outside of the site. God, I miss you. How was your day?” Robert mused on the phone as I sat on a bench outside the hospital.
“She died.”
The words came out in a broken croak. Robert was silent, and I knew I had thrown him off. “Okay, I’ll turn around,” he said.
I took a deep breath and replied, “No, you will not.”
“What?”
“They’re cremating her. Dad wants to wait two weeks so her family can make it.”
Robert made no noise. I would have thought we’d lost service if he hadn’t said quietly, “Will we still be here for the funeral?”
I nodded. “They are doing it on the 15th; we don’t move until the 18th.”
“Jesus, Bree. Are you okay?”
I let out a strangled sob. “No. But, I will be eventually.”
Robert sighed. “I can quit and come home.”
I exhaled. “No, you can’t. Stay there, finish what you started. I will be okay.”
He sucked a breath in. Then he asked quietly, “Did Jean end up in a psych hold?”
I snorted. I loved this man so much. “No, she did scream, though.”
“Sounds about right.” His words started to jumble.
He would be gone soon. I would have to go back upstairs to collect Aurora and Sol and then return to my empty apartment.
I took a deep breath. I could do this. I had to do this.
“I’m starting to lose you. I love you. I’ll be okay, I promise.”
Broken words returned, “Text—if—need—me—home—immediately.”
Then the line went dead.
I knew it was only Wyoming, but it felt like he disappeared into another world.
Back upstairs, I found Jean standing like a statue against the wall, hugging her arms.
“Jean, are you okay?”
Jean turned toward the window, her lips tight. I rubbed her arm, turning to leave when she finally spoke. “I told her I loved her, then she died. That has to be a sign.”
I studied my sister and sighed. Jean was a dreamer but also a creature of mystic beliefs. Mom couldn’t just die; a dark presence or negative energy had to have caused it. Typically, I’d argue with her, but I knew how futile it would be.
“Well, if there was a sign, it’s more likely because I was the only child, besides Eddy, not with her.”
Jean turned to me, and I expected a nod. Instead, she looked heartbroken.
“Bree, you’ve never been a source of negative energy. Your husband, maybe, but not you. You can’t blame yourself.”
Typically, I would’ve laughed at these moments. Jean spoke like this all the time, an insult wrapped in metaphysical beliefs. Instead, I nodded. I was okay with her accepting something without tearing herself down.
A minute later, my dad entered the hallway in a complete daze. He was holding a coffee cup, shaking, and looking around as if lost. I approached him and said, “Dad, are you all right?”
He shrugged. “I’ll survive, unlike your mother.”
Jean flinched, and I cringed. This type of joke was the peak of my dad’s humor, but it was bad timing. I rubbed his arm before he sighed.
“Bree, you should say goodbye; they will take her to the funeral home soon.”
I couldn’t stop myself from blurting out, “I’m not going in there.”
Jean and my dad froze, staring at me. I frowned, “I just—I don’t want to remember her like this.”
That was partially true. Death made me uncomfortable, and I tended to hyper-focus on the last time I saw someone. However, I knew something else was making me hesitant: I wanted to go home.
My dad accepted my answer, even if he didn’t understand it. “I’m gathering the rest of the lot. Are they downstairs?”
I nodded, and he stepped off toward the elevator.
Jean sighed once the elevator doors closed. “You are taking Sol back to Reggie, right?”
“Yeah, I was going to leave soon.”
She sniffed. “Good, he needs to do back-to-school shopping.”
I chewed on my lip. “Why did you keep him? You both knew he had to go back earlier this week.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Because, Bree, he’s my son. No one, especially Reggie, can tell me what to do with my son.”
I wanted to interject, “ except for the courts that gave Reggie custody, ” but I shrugged. Before I could say anything else, she turned and left, leaving me alone in the hallway.
It was strange how, in an hour, the atmosphere had shifted from the liveliness of youth to the sudden darkness. Even the sun went down, and the fluorescent lights cast a sickly green glow.
I turned back toward the hallway, toward my mother’s room, and hesitated.
I knew I should go in. I should see my mom one last time. I should want to.
But she wasn’t there anymore. She was dead, and I wouldn’t be saying goodbye to her. I would only be saying goodbye to my feelings for her, and I’d said goodbye to them long ago.
I closed my eyes and imagined her as I saw her the other day: her petite frame, more gaunt than before, with her eyebrows and lone hair left. Her arms were bruised from the IVs, and her usually manicured nails were splitting.
Her brown eyes, rarely warm, would still be illuminated as if she were willing to show love that didn’t benefit her.
I took a deep breath and hugged my arms, walking to take the kids home.
Our drive was silent. It was nearly nine p.m., with Aurora and Sol sitting in the backseat of my car, leaning onto each other. I looked at them through the rearview mirror and paused.
My mother loved them. She loved all of the grandkids. The manipulations she pulled on her kids never touched the grandkids.
That’s why they were all right. That’s what protected them from that sort of trauma, only for their parents to inflict the same pain on them.
I merged lanes and turned at a light in the opposite direction. They looked up toward the motorway before I smiled. “You guys haven’t eaten, and neither have I. How does diner food sound?”
Sol’s eyes lit up, and he started to bounce. Aurora also crossed her arms and smiled. “Do you think they’ll have vegetarian options?”
I shrugged, pulling into a rickety diner with a giant illuminated sign saying “24/7 Breakfast.” I parked the car, turned back to her, and grinned. “If they put lard in the pancakes, I’ll do whatever you want to honor the animal’s spirit.”
Aurora laughed. “You better.”