CHAPTER TWENTY Mike
Day One After Mom’s Death
The neighbors stood silently on the sidewalks when the hearse pulled away with Mom’s body.
They’d known she was gravely ill because my mother kept no secrets about her health situation.
“I don’t want them to find out after. That’d be too upsetting,” she’d said.
“Besides, I’ve known these wonderful people for years.
I hope to see them all again,” she’d added.
The doorbell rang nonstop all day as mourners dropped by with casseroles and baskets of marigolds. Even they knew about Mom’s obsession with the stinky flower.
“I’ll fly there right now if you need me,” Brandt had offered. “I mean it, Mike. Right this second. Just say the word.”
A couple of coworkers emailed their condolences.
The office secretary even sent flowers. The house was filling up with reminders that I didn’t have a mother anymore.
This time felt different from when Dad died.
Mom ran point on that one despite being the surviving spouse.
I didn’t worry about what to say. Mom handled all of that. Who will handle my grief from now on?
Day Two
If my mother was anything, she was organized. The safe held exact instructions on what to do after she died. She even noted that the freezer in the garage was full of meat and what to do if I didn’t stay in town. And of course, she wanted everything in the house donated if I decided to sell.
There was a sealed box with a letter taped to the top. Open on the seventh day was handwritten on the envelope. I picked up the small container and found it to be lighter than I had anticipated. I shook the box gently and felt something solid moving against each side.
I had a few days to keep a promise or to chalk everything up to the musings of a spiritual creature. I closed my eyes and tried to visualize my mother. It was only day two and I was desperate to be able to recall her face upon request.
Day Three
“Are you sure, Mike?” Brad McPherson asked. “I sold your folks the plots so they could be side by side.” Brad and I had gone to school together. His father owned one of two funeral homes in town. “The extra large headstone was designed for both of them,” he reminded me.
“She changed her mind, Brad. Cremation only and then please deliver her remains to me,” I stated, a bit harsher than needed.
“It’ll be hard to sell the other plot,” he pushed. “I’m not sure we can refund any unused final care expenses.”
“You think I give a fuck about a refund?” I hissed.
Day Four
On day four I couldn’t control my anger.
I’d been sad for the first three days as I tried to find comfort in the fact that Mom wasn’t suffering any longer, but the bullshit offerings from guests that stopped by our house did little to quell my agony.
How could I be happy about Mom’s liberation from pain when I was currently buried in my own?
I knew I was wrong to wish her here after the battle she waged, but I hadn’t come to grips with her passing. I didn’t have to, so fuck off people.
Day Five
“Nice of you to find the time to call, Jennifer,” I stated, seething that my ex gave zero shits about me losing my other parent. “Finally had a break, did ya?”
“Don’t be morose, Michael. I was in London on business.”
“Phones don’t work in London?” I inquired. “Never mind. What do you want besides this phony condolence call?”
“That’s rude, Michael,” she stated before continuing to the real purpose of her call. “I’m calling about the investment account at Fidelity,” she revealed. “As you know, even though it’s a joint account, I contributed most of the funds.”
“Send me the form to sign.” Click.
Day Six
“We love you, Michael,” Charla, Cooper’s mother, spoke on the other end of the call. “Oh, honey, I wish we were still across the street from you,” she added. “I just want to hold you right now.”
“Thank you, Charla,” I said, choking up at the first genuine words of comfort I’ve received. “I wish you were here too, but I understand. As it turns out, Mom didn’t want a funeral so there’s no reason to come back.”
“Roger and I would if you need us, honey. Just say the word.”
“I miss him,” I said softly. I knew she’d understand who I meant. “He always knew how to get me through stuff like this.” It felt odd to revert to my boyhood when I spoke to Cooper’s Mom, but she had that effect on me. She was like a second mother.
“Funny you thought of our Cooper,” she began. “He’s been on our minds so much lately. Maybe losing Kathleen and all the memories of our life there have caused us to think about him, but we feel his presence lately.”
“Me too,” I admitted. “He was my everything.” I was shocked the words came out the way they did.
“We know that, Mike. You were his.”
After more small talk and the exchange of I love yous we ended the call. Cooper’s parents knew their son was gay and always supported him. I believe her comment of ‘you were his’ was her way of saying they knew how Cooper had felt about me.
I wanted–no I needed another chance with Cooper, but was I willing to step into Mom’s fantasy world?
Could I suspend a lifelong belief that strange occurrences and unexplained phenomena were people’s ways of wishing there were outside forces that might be real?
Mom had always encouraged me to open my mind. Could I?
According to Mom and Druzella’s out-there plan, I had one day left.
Day seven at midnight. The clock was ticking and I had a decision to make.
Perhaps I should open the box in the safe and see what lies within.
If there were assurances that the potion or concoction inside wouldn’t truly harm me, why not humor my mother? After all, I had promised.