Then 1985
Then
The floor is cold beneath Erik’s feet as he stands in the doorway of the small kitchen.
He is wearing his pajamas; it is the middle of the night, and he has just woken from a horrible nightmare.
That was when he discovered that Mom wasn’t in bed next to him.
His cheeks were wet with tears after the bad dream, but Mom didn’t come when he called.
After a while he plucked up the courage to get out of bed and went looking for her in the little cottage.
Now he sees that she is lying on her stomach in the middle of the kitchen floor. One cheek is resting on the plastic mat, her eyes are closed, but her mouth is half open.
A trail of white spittle has trickled down her chin.
“Mom?” he says tentatively. “What are you doing?”
She doesn’t react. It looks as if she’s asleep, but he doesn’t understand why she is lying here in the kitchen instead of in bed.
Why didn’t she lie down beside him as usual?
Hesitantly he moves closer. There is a horrible smell, and he instinctively backs away. It seems as if Mom has been sick right in front of the sink; he sees a pool of reddish vomit.
The ends of her long black hair have ended up in the disgusting mess. Several empty wine bottles are on the floor next to a white pill bottle.
“Mom,” he says again, louder this time. “Wake up!”
She still doesn’t react, and fear squeezes his heart. Without her he has nobody. He is the only one in his class without a dad, and he has never met his maternal or paternal grandparents.
Something wet runs down his cheeks. He is crying, although he shouldn’t. Mom often tells him that he must be brave. He has turned eleven and is a big boy now.
He edges closer, despite the stench. Tries to work out if Mom is still breathing.
She is completely motionless. When he cautiously reaches out and touches her, she is unnaturally cold. Her chest isn’t moving either.
Slowly the truth begins to sink in.
Mom is never going to wake up again.
Now he really is alone.