I decided to get up when my
mind started making shadow puppets from the darkness of the room. The bed
was cold. It may have been the sound of Benny moving about in the studio that had
awoken me.
Somewhere between rinsing
the soap from my face and brushing my teeth I became aware of the absence of
nausea. A subtle relief from weeks of running from the bed to the toilet with
accompanying heaves and hawls of stomach acids and dinner fragments. This
morning I awoke feeling hungry and almost capable of enjoying a bacon double
cheeseburger loaded with onions and pickles, my mouth watering at the anticipation
of a non-existent meal. A bowl of Raisin Bran Crunch, bananas and toast with
orange marmalade would make a suitable substitute.
The unlit morning was
vibrant with silence that echoed through the house. Benny had fallen asleep at
his desk and sending him to bed would bring on excuses as to why he had to keep
working. I’ve always known him to be the type to work through difficulties. I
moved about the studio, stealthily capping tubes of paint, placing drying
brushes in their bath of inky water and shutting off the desk lamp. He adjusted
his hunched posture only minimally before falling deeper into reluctant rest.
The clattering of the phone
created a vacuum that pulled the silence toward it and pushed out its metallic
resonance in the guise of the theme song to the pink panther. My response
hindered on the intuition of the calls purpose.
“Liz?” Dean, Benny’s elder
brother, had a tone of questioning uncertainty that left a sour taste at the
back of my throat.
“Yeah?”
“Mommy died.”
“Okay.”
A dry grip of tightened vocal cords brought on by Dean’s tone. “I’m sorry Dean,
seriously. How’s Jack?”
“He’s in crisis mode, so its
strict control and planning from him.” His voice was phlegmy and his words were
being swallowed in whispered exasperation.
‘Okay. We’ve
discussed this, he knows what to do.”
“Really?”
“He’s sleeping right now.
I’m gonna wait
till he wakes up. This is the first time he’s
slept in two days.”
“Liz?’
“Yeah?”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know. I’m sure Jack
needs help. We’ll be flying up as soon as possible so we’ll be needing a pick
up from the airport.”
“What am I supposed to do
Liz?”
“Don’t ask me Dean, your
mom’s dead and I
already have one of her children to watch over.
Figure it out, its’ not difficult. This isn’t a surprise and if it is, then you
need to ask yourself what you’ve been doing with yourself.”
“I’ll make the call. I want
to be the one to break the news.”
“He won’t
wanna hold your hand so don’t go looking for support.”
“I know.”
“Well, still, let him sleep
a few more
hours. I’ll make what arrangements are needed
from here and call Jack to see where he’s at.”
“Why wasn’t I included in
all this planning?”
“You were
waiting for an invitation? These are your parents.”
“I just think I could have
been included.”
“Now is a great time to
think some more.”
And
with the sound of the click, silence encompassed me once more. It took three
breaths to gather myself. Benny’s muffled drone of rest could be heard lapping
at the oncoming sounds of morning and mourning. The play on words made me
giggle. I would’ve gladly have turned off all the phones to keep him blissfully
unaware.
The woman, my mother-in-law,
wasn’t always someone who made herself available for others to befriend. I
couldn’t imagine what she had gone through these last few months. What peace
she had sought had finally arrived. Benny was morbidly aware of this
inevitability when the first diagnosis came over a year ago and recognized the
eventuality of time. Dean held to illusions and ignorance to get through the
visual decay of his only beloved parent. After the first round of surgeries
Jack approached Benny and myself about a plan and Dean accused us of desiring
death upon his mother, never their mother.
A siren was echoing against
the sunrise. From this break came a flood of all that was yet to be endured and
I instinctively felt for my yet to be protruding abdomen. Recognizing, for the
first time, it was there.
