CHAPTER NINE Mike
The days passed slowly as Mom and I rediscovered our bond.
I was an only child and a bit of a momma’s boy growing up.
Mom doted on her boys, as she called Dad and me, and we shared a close relationship even after I grew into a man.
When my father died our relationship shifted slightly.
I was almost seventeen when dad passed, basically a man, and I chose to pick up most of Dad’s household responsibilities.
Mom and I were a team as we navigated life without him.
She still led the way and I supported her however I could.
I felt protective of and worried about her loss and what that meant for her future.
In typical fashion, she was a rock and guided us through the first year of grief.
She wasn’t the kind to hide feelings and sometimes I didn’t like sharing mine, but she always pulled me out of my funk.
I not only loved my mother, but I respected her as well. Deeply.
“These smell stronger this year,” I complained, holding a shriveled marigold bud in my hand and sniffing it. “Twice as bad as I remember.”
“Extra powerful on purpose,” she corrected. “When you’re inviting spirits in you need the strongest essence you can get.”
“And what about those,” I asked, pointing at her rose bushes to encourage her to keep up the banter.
She squinted her eyes, struggling to cover them with a hand as she surveyed where I was pointing. “Those are for me. I still like beautiful smelling things even if we’re summoning the dead over here.”
I decided to humor her. The fact was, I was reading her parallel universes book and some of the content was causing me to reconsider what she’s been saying for years. “Who are we summoning exactly? You know, just in case I want a vote on who we invite over.”
“I’m not joking,” she stated. “We can truly affect changes in our destiny,” she added.
I sat my clippers down and walked across the patio to position her out of the sun. “Okay, give me an example,” I said. “But hang on while I get us a popsicle.”
“Grape,” she ordered, choosing her favorite. I’d purchased the Pedialyte brand that included electrolytes and B vitamins. She hadn’t mentioned the change to the healthier brand so I figured they tasted good, plus I could make sure she stayed hydrated.
I came back from the kitchen with two opened popsicles, and handed her one. “Perfect with the sun,” she said. “I’ll call this lunch.”
“The hell you will,” I instantly responded. “We’re having a cucumber salad in a bit.”
“Wow,” she teased. “Busting out all my faves these days.”
“Hush and give me an example of changing destiny before I lose interest.”
“Okay, but don’t act all surprised and weirded out when I tell you what I’m up to.”
I pulled a patio chair closer to her, laughing at her use of the words weirded out. “So, you think I’m too weirded out by your ideas, do ya?”
“Your father began to accept my ideology,” she reminded me. “Thank goodness because finding him will be much easier now.”
“I’ll tell you where he is, Mom,” I quipped, having visited his grave the day before. “I don’t think he’s been hiding.”
“Don’t be a smart ass, son,” she corrected. “And that was not your father, by the way.”
I laughed out loud. “Then who did we bury?” I joked.
She tsked and looked away. We sat in silence and enjoyed our popsicles.
She wasn’t angry because she didn’t get angry.
Another amazing trait she possessed. We observed three hummingbirds as they flitted around her backyard feeder.
I read her mind before she could speak. “They say humming birds are spiritual creatures,” I offered.
“Some even believe they’re visitors of lost loved ones’ souls. ”
“Would you be open to that idea?” Mom asked, looking beyond me and toward the manic birds.
“I would. Now tell me who we’re summoning before I forget to ask again.”
“Cooper,” she answered, as easily as if I’d asked her a yes or no question. “Timing is everything in this particular event,” she added.
I’m not sure how I knew her answer before she voiced it, but I wasn’t surprised she said Cooper. “And why him?”
“I will be dying on August 30th, honey,” she announced. “That date is important for you to remember.”
“I know what the date is, Mom, and I’m not really excited about you sharing that news with me. Nobody is dying anytime soon and certainly not on that day.”
“The date is the most important part,” she declared. “And I’m making sure we are prepared.”
I stood and walked to the edge of the patio, gazing across the lawn toward a giant maple tree in the yard. There were still a few loose boards from where a treehouse used to be attached to two of the largest branches, eight feet off the ground. A private fort for me and Cooper when we were kids.
“I’d prefer you didn’t do that to me, Mom,” I said, turning around and staring at her in disbelief. “That is unfair. Do you seriously want me to have to add your death to that date?” I was angry now and returned to staring at the yard so she couldn’t see my face.
“Hear me out, son,” she argued. “Please?”
I had given one hundred percent of my effort to be patient with her beliefs since I’d been home, but this news was a setback in my willingness to accept what I didn’t understand. I wanted her to be happy and to feel heard but this was crossing a line.
“Not the thirtieth, Mom. You cannot die on that date,” I declared. “I won’t accept that date and I’m asking you not to talk about this to me again.”
“It has to be that date, Michael,” she insisted, her weak voice rising. “I’m doing it for you,” she defended.
“NO!” I yelled. I turned back to her, sorry that I’d yelled. I leveled my voice and my emotions. “No, Mom. I mean it. Both Cooper and you? On the same day and just a month after Dad died? You cannot expect me to live with that reminder for the rest of my goddamned life.”
And with that I stormed off the patio and around the house, ending up in the front yard.
I glanced toward Cooper’s bedroom window, expecting to see a cat.
The cat wasn’t there. Instead, I located it sitting on the front stoop.
The black feline had yellow eyes that pierced mine from across the quiet street.
“What?” I whispered. “What the fuck do you want?”
I watched as the cat twirled its tail, slowly curling and uncurling the snake-like appendage; the yellow eyes boring through my soul.