38. Then
Then: Valentine’s Day
I ’ve been waiting all year for this day. Today is not only Valentine’s Day, but it’s my mother’s birthday. Although I still have school today, I set my alarm a full hour early. The first part of the birthday plan is to make Mom’s favorite breakfast—just as she’s done for me all these years. It’s about time I return the favor.
In no time the kitchen is filled with the wonderful aroma of maple syrup and butterscotch, with a side of brown sugar bacon. Forget the calories today, today is something worth celebrating.
Savage Garden’s I Knew You Before I Loved You is playing in the background, and I start singing the lyrics.
Another familiar voice joins in as she sings the line leading into the chorus… Mom .
The solid hour that we have together goes by in a blur but in the best way. I finish up breakfast while she sets the table and continues to sing 90s songs. My mom’s got a beautiful voice, and I love it whenever she sings. Dad had to go in early for work today but promised he’d be home in time for the birthday festivities tonight.
I was able to finish up Mom’s biggest birthday surprise with help from Dad. It all came together quickly because of him. I’m glad we decided to team up and do things together this year. I hope it will mean as much to her as it means to me.
Mom drives me to school, she insisted. How could I say no? She said there would be no buses today to or from school. Supposedly, there’s a blizzard forecasted to hit later this evening, and they didn’t want their buses caught out in it. School hasn’t been canceled yet, it rarely ever does around here, but the school email mentioned it could close at a moment’s notice if the weather gets too bad.
Mom hasn’t let on that she’s aware Dad and I are up to something. But she has made it clear that no matter what today’s weather has in store, she wants to spend as much time as possible with me today. After all, today is her big day.
I hug her and wave goodbye as I climb out of her car.
For it being a Friday, school seems to go exceptionally slow. I end up having tests in three of my classes that feel like they are never-ending. When the final bell rings, I leap out of my chair and dart out of the door. I can’t escape fast enough. All throughout the day students kept checking outside to see if anything had changed in the weather, and to everyone’s dismay it hadn’t. It’d been an ordinary Friday, filled with the same exams as always, along with the same teenage drama.
No crazy winds, and not even a single flurry had fallen from the sky yet. The skies had remained clear all day, in fact. There was no sign of a storm coming. It wasn’t completely out of the ordinary for the weather forecast to predict wrong… but so far they we re way off. If I knew better, I’d say the storm probably isn’t happening at this point.
Mom said she’d park in the student parking lot and wait for me. I scan the lot for her unforgettable bright red Coupe but don’t see it anywhere. She must have gotten stuck in traffic or didn’t check the time and is running late. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.
I check my phone for the time. School let out at three-o’clock, and it’s now a half hour later. My stomach clenches, but I shouldn’t start worrying just yet. Maybe she stopped to get herself a treat somewhere. If only I could call or text her and find out what’s keeping her. But no, she still doesn’t have a phone. It’s times like this I wish she did.
Three-forty-five, four o’clock. An hour late. I have waited outside for my mom for an entire hour. The only cars left here are the teachers and school staff that haven’t retreated yet for their weekend. Where is she? Is she okay? Did she forget? It’d been a long time since she’d broken one of her promises, but I stopped believing in those a long time ago. I trusted her this time—now, I’m starting to doubt all over again. And I’m getting worried. What’s keeping her?
I sigh and do the thing I hate doing, but I do it anyway because she’s left me with no choice. I call Dad. It goes straight to his voicemail. Great. I hang up and try again. Once again it goes to voicemail. I leave a brief message this time and hang up. Fine, I’ll start walking home, and maybe he’ll call me back and come get me. It’s only about a ten-minute drive from our house to the school, but getting there on foot takes a lot longer, even with some shortcuts I can take.
I’ve also been watching the sky steadily turn bleak and gray over the past hour. There are clouds everywhere, and they are a dull gray, as though they hold something darker within them. The air feels colder now and a frigid wind has started blowing. At least I wore my hat and gloves today. I snuggle into my jacket as much as I can to avoid the bitter wind that has kicked up a notch and start making the long trek home.
It takes me a solid twenty minutes to make it back home. By the time I get there, my cheeks are lobster red, I can’t feel my fingers or my toes, and my legs and feet ache from the long walk. A few cars honked at me, and one even sprayed me with a snowdrift pile when I’d turned a corner near our neighborhood.
All the lights are off in the house, and there is no sign that Mom is here. I go straight into my room to jump into a quick, warm shower. As soon as the water pelts my skin I instantly feel better. I give myself a few minutes to thaw out, and I’m out in less than ten minutes. As soon as I dry off, I check my phone for any missed calls from Dad but have none. He must be in a meeting or something with his phone on silent. He is supposed to get off work early tonight for Mom’s birthday, but it’s nearing 4:30 and he hasn’t called back yet.
But where is Mom? There is still no sign of her. It’s her birthday and she’s missing. Fabulous and so typically her. I start flipping on lights as I walk through the house. Like a kid playing hide and seek, I wonder if I am supposed to start calling for her. I yell, “Mom?” Nothing.
The house remains silent. Hmm. Oh, I should probably check the garage. If her car is still here that means she’s home. Probably in the shower or reading a book in the sunroom like she does from time to time.
For a moment, I’m hit with a sudden realization. My stomach tightens at the thought of walking into her room and seeing all of her bags packed. Or worse, her room empty again—only, she’s left us for good this time. Where does she go every time she disappears ?
I open the door to the garage and find her car parked in its usual place. I’m instantly flooded with relief. If her car is here that means she is in the house somewhere. If she was thinking of running away she hasn’t—yet. I run my finger along the hood of the car. It’s completely dry. If she’d been out recently it would still be wet from the snow.
I walk back into the house and continue the search. There is a chance she might be sleeping. That would explain why she’d had all the lights turned off and her door closed. She seemed to be sleeping better and hadn’t slept in this morning. She’d joined me for her birthday breakfast and sang and danced with me. She didn’t seem at all tired like she used to get. But maybe she’d done more during the day while I was at school. I hesitate going in for a moment, because if she is sleeping I don’t want to disturb her. After all, it is her day, and a nap may have very well been on her list of things to do today. I’m positive she’d made a list. Just like I have.
Dad will be getting home soon, and we have dinner plans. We had originally planned to take her out to this cute little Italian restaurant that opened up last year. We’ve only been a handful of times, but each time I remember Mom gushing about how much she loved their lasagna.
We quickly had to change gears when we heard about the storm coming through, and Dad came home yesterday with all of the ingredients for me to put together our own version of the lasagna Mom loved. I’ve never attempted to make it before, but I have a recipe to follow, surely it won’t be that hard. But if it was going to be ready at a decent time, I need to start it soon. Dad had offered to help, but I told him he could be in charge of picking out a cheesecake from the store on his way home from work today. He agreed.
I don’t know how long she’s been sleeping, and I need to get her up. Knowing her, she probably forgot to set an alarm and didn’t remember that she was supposed to come get me from school. I better go in .
I carefully crack open her door. The moment it opens I’m overcome with her scent, honey and vanilla. It’s become my two favorite scents. I dare to push it open a little further, and I peer inside.
Sure enough, there she is, sleeping soundly in her bed. I let loose a sigh of relief. The curtains are drawn, and she has a candle still burning on her nightstand. There’s no telling how long that’s been going so I make my way over there quickly and blow it out.
I turn and face my mother. She hasn’t noticed my presence yet, she’s in one of her deep sleeps. Her fluffy down comforter is wrapped tightly around her body, keeping her snug and warm. I’m tempted to say screw the list, I’ll just lie here with her. I don’t want to wake her, I’ve changed my mind. Dad can wake us both up when he gets home.
I start to climb into her bed when I notice something I hadn’t noticed before. Her wedding ring is placed neatly on her nightstand, beside a bottle of pills. I slowly move the covers off of her, wanting to get a better look at her hand. Maybe she always takes it off when she sleeps, and it’s just something I’ve never paid attention to until now.
She still hasn’t opened her eyes and asked me what I’m doing in here like this. I reach for her hand. My hand lightly brushes the hand that is missing her ring, and it’s cold to the touch. Too cold. Something isn’t right. She’s wrapped up in thick blankets, why are her fingers so cold? How long has she been like this?
“Mom?” I say, nudging her again, less gently this time. Her body puts up no resistance to my gentle push, and I gasp. I have to keep trying. I don’t understand what’s going on, and I need her to say something to me. Anything.
I try again. “Mom? Mom?” I say a little louder, panic starting to rise in my chest. Why isn’t she moving? Why is she not waking up? What is wrong with her? She was fine this morning. I was with her. I hugged her and she said, “I’ll see you later my Sweet Phoenix. ”
“Mom! Wake up! This isn’t funny. I’m not joking or playing any of your dumb games. Say something! Say something to me!” I am screaming. I am screaming at my mother just lying here, doing nothing. I feel angry. Why is she doing this to me? Come on Mom, this isn’t funny…
“Mom, Mom.” I don’t give up. I rip the sheets completely off the bed. I turn on all the lights. I’m not playing around. She’s given me enough whiplash over the years. I love this woman with my whole freaking heart, but whatever this is I’ve had enough of it. Come on…
“Mom, Mom.” Nothing. Silence. The worst kind of silence.
“Mom, Mom.” My pleas are growing weaker. Something is shifting inside me, I’m not sure what it is. I’m not sure what anything is right now, I just want my mom to wake up and tell me everything is fine. She’s fine. Open your eyes now, Mom.
“Mom…” I collapse in tears on top of her chest, which doesn’t feel warm and comforting like it usually does. As I lay there I realize something else. Her heart is not beating beneath me. Her chest is not rising and falling. And that’s when it hits me. My mom isn’t sleeping at all… my mom is… no, no, no!
“Mom…” I say one last time. This woman that I love. This crazy, insane woman drives me up the wall sometimes. This piece of work, this, this… no, no. There’s no way that she… she wouldn’t have. She couldn’t… She wouldn’t do this to me. To us.
Today is her birthday. Her birthday . I have plans for her… Dad and I have all these plans, and we don’t get to do any of them. Her gift. I was supposed to give it to her after we finished dessert… She was going to open it and… Now, she never will. I’m lying here and she’s just… no. Oh, god, no. NO!
Mom…
Mom…
Mom…