Chapter 28 A Rainy Monday, on a Cold November Night
A Rainy Monday, on a Cold November Night
Poetically, it’s raining when Mom dies. I expect the end to be dramatic or scary, but it comes with the gentle tapping of rain on the windows when she leaves us.
I’m dozing on and off in the chair next to her bed when Carole rouses me with a teary, “She’s gone.
” The hall outside Mom’s room is crowded.
The nurses had lined up a miscellany of hospital chairs in the hallway earlier in the day, and now each one is filled with the worried faces of friends and family.
During the day, everyone took turns saying goodbye to Mom: Dad, Carole, PJ, Mags, Neel, Aunt Sarah, and Uncle Brian were the first to pay their respects.
Laurel and Bill, Carole’s parents, flew in from Portland and haven’t left Carole’s side since.
Two of Mom’s oldest friends, Bob and Alice, who I haven’t seen for years, came by for an hour to say goodbye.
The big excitement of the day came when Betty, Mom’s boss, showed up in the afternoon to pay her respects.
Dad had to drag Carole away to the cafeteria.
She nearly lost her shit when Betty appeared in the doorway.
Carole blames her for Mom’s accident, and I swear she looked like she wanted to rip Betty’s face off.
I’ve never heard Carole scream like that before.
It was guttural and heart wrenching. I’m smart enough to know it’s not Betty’s fault that Mom fell asleep at the wheel, but I also understand Carole’s anger toward Betty for working Mom to the point of exhaustion.
Now, here’s the weird thing. I haven’t cried since Saturday.
I’ve gone numb inside, and my eyes are bone dry.
Why am I not crying? My mom is gone. Forever.
Everyone else, even one of the nurses, is bawling their eyes out.
Yet here I stand staring at the floor. The alien has been acting strange too.
It is still inside me, but dormant. It doesn’t scratch, kick, or bite, but I sense it is waiting for something.
I shiver thinking about what it could be.
PJ sees me shake and comes over to take my hand.
He puts his head on my shoulder, and his tears wet my shirt sleeve.
Dad looks over at us, a vacant stare obscuring any clue as to what he is thinking.
He lost his ex-wife who divorced him because she was a lesbian.
Now, his only son is gay too. Does he blame Mom that I turned out this way?
Does he care? Did he know? Is he staring at us because he deems it inappropriate that PJ is here in the room with my dead mother?
Dad and I haven’t spoken since I slammed the door on him two days ago after telling him, in a fit of anger, that PJ is my boyfriend. He quietly left the apartment that afternoon, and I haven’t seen or heard from him again until today.
Is tonight the night when it all goes down? Maybe it’s all been leading up to this one night. A rainy Monday on a cold November at 11:22 p.m. sharp. The alien will finally burst out of me, and I will die on the very same day as my mother.