To The One Who Never Called (Short Story)

This is the last time

It was almost as if you could taste the dirt as soon as you opened the door. Everything about the interior of the room screamed cheap and dirty, as objects seemed to be confused as to where and whom they belonged too. To the right you could see a dysfunctional kitchen, with a wilted plant perched next to the sink and dirty dishes piled on the other side. This apartment was clean at one point; in fact you could see evidence of this once-upon-a-time history. The bookshelf. You could always look at the bookshelf, and stare at the assortment of books never touched, the carefully arranged pictures never dusted, and the lamp rarely turned on. You knew the lamp was out of practice, because the bulb has been out for months. I believe I was blamed for that a couple months ago… though how a never-used light bulb affected her, is beyond me.

I slid my bag into its common place, the chair piled with newspapers and junk mail that always sat kitty corner to the card table. I walked under the archway holding my breath

as my eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room.

“Well finally God damn it. I thought you’d never arrive” came the raspy voice from the corner of the room. She never ceased to amuse me on how she always acted as if she had little time to waste, yet did so little with the time she had.

:Mother:

Pronunciation: \ˈmə-thər\

Function: noun

: a female parent : a woman in authority; specifically : the superior of a religious community of women : an old or elderly woman
: maternal tenderness or affection

[short for motherfucker]

sometimes vulgar

“Well, the drug store apologizes for the long line.” I said, trying to sound light and unfazed but still maintaining the edge of sarcasm. I walked over to her lazy chair, hearing the gruff of the shag carpet-fibers under my sandals. I dropped the bag onto her end table. She reached over with a withered hand, and with careful motions she unwrapped the package and pulled out the orange bottle. Prescription medication.

: MORPHINE:

Oramorph and Aviniza contain morphine.

Morphine is typically prescribed for severe pain;

Slang for morphine includes "M" and "Miss Emma."

Maria Annsteign was clearly marked on the bottle. I know that these “doctor prescribed” pills were not her only source. It couldn’t be. That little bottle was not enough. Little is enough for her. I watch my mother, as she tries to act as if she’s not in a rush to swallow her “Miss Emmas”, but we both know she’s been quietly going to crazy without them.

:Denial:

Pronunciation: \di-ˈnī(-ə)l, dē-\

Function: noun

: refusal to satisfy a request or desire : refusal to admit the truth or reality (as of a statement or charge) : assertion that an allegation is false : refusal to acknowledge a person or a thing : the opposing by the defendant of an allegation of the opposite party in a lawsuit : negation in logic : a psychological defense mechanism in which confrontation with a personal problem or with reality is avoided by denying the existence of the problem or reality

“Dear, do you mind fetching me a glass of water” her eyes skirt back and forth, as if she really did not want to wait that long to swallow. No mother. You will not find some dingy, dirty, who knows how long its been there liquid to swallow your pill(s)

Sometimes, this weekly ritual of “visiting mom” becomes a deep and painful reality check. She is not healthy. What I am doing is not healthy. None of this screams healthy. In fact, I do not consider the air in this building to be healthy. I am probably inhaling black mold toxicity mixed with a deathly combo of lead paint as I stand here and think. I’m screwed.

Daughter:

Pronunciation: \ˈdó-tər, ˈdä-\

Function: noun

: a female offspring especially of human parents: a female adopted child : a human female descendant : something considered as a daughter : an atomic species that is the product of the radioactive decay of a given element

Sometimes I am convinced this must be my answer. My mother is an actual motherfucker, I am atomic specie that is a product of radioactive decay, and we are both dancing a lovely three-step dance called denial.

“No thank you”

Her eyes stopped darting around her surroundings as she clutched her orange bottle, and instead commanded her eyes to dart all over my face. “What’d you say to me?”

“I said: No thank you” I’m even being polite mother. Please, take this into consideration.

The look on her face was one of disgust, rage, shock, and impatience all molded into one expression. But this only lasted but a few seconds before something inside of her snapped her back to her “Miss Emma’s” at hand.

“Fine. I can get my own water,” she muttered as she set the precious orange bottle down, bracing both sides of her lazy chair with her floppy arms as she pushed up her body from its lump, perfect ass-molding home. I stood there expressionless as I watched my mother shuffle past me, making her way under the arch and into the dingy kitchen.

I suppose this is my fault. I could have done more. I still recall exactly what I was doing when I received the phone call five years ago. I was wearing my new business shirt; it was my first week after training for a job. I processed orders. I made sure orders were not lost, or dropped, or anything that related to such failures. I was proud. I finally found a 9-5 job.

And I suppose I should be embarrassed, but I felt so professional when I realized I had a call forwarded to my phone. Unlike the movies, it was not a call from some guy who wants to take you out, or a best friend checking on your new job, or even something business related, it was the hospital. She was in a car accident. Severe injuries, severe burns, all equaled to critical care.

And medication.

Thus I visited; I made sure I did often. Just as I am now. But there was no way I wanted to move back to this house, no way I wanted to go back to this life. So I visited. Cordially, lovingly, visited.

: Avoidiance :

Function: noun

Meaning: the act or a means of getting or keeping away from something undesirable avoidance of conflict makes talking about problems with her difficult> — see escape

“So you’re just going to stand there like that?” I didn’t even realize she was back in the room, this time with a full glass of water that looked… sort of clean. I could tell by the look on her face that she was trying to figure out if she wanted to deal with me or not. More important things were waiting for her, like that little orange bottle for example.

“Mother” I cleared my throat. “This is the last time I am delivering your medication for you”

I watch as she wheezes out a laugh and slowly walks back to her chair. “You would, you little piece of shit”

I swallowed the lump in my throat that suddenly came out of nowhere. “No, I’m serious mother. This is the last time I am going to pick these up for you. You need help. I think tha…”

“Oh YOU think? You THINK that I need help? Hell! You think I don’t know that?” The venom in her eyes and the sneer in her voice was enough to make me wonder why I ever stepped foot into this apartment. Maybe I should revert back to avoiding. She did not stop however, her anger bubbled over like an overflowing pot of hot water. I watched her as her fists bottled up in rage and her voice floated over me like water. That is how I survive, you know. Let it flow over me, not through.

:Argument:

Function: noun

Synonyms altercation, bicker, brawl, cross fire, disagreement, dispute, falling-out, fight, hassle, misunderstanding, quarrel, row, scrap, spat, squabble, tiff, wrangle

Related Words clash, run-in, skirmish, tussle; feud, vendetta; attack, contention, dissension; controversy, debate; fuss, objection, protest, protestation; affray, feud, fisticuffs, fracas, fray, free-for-all, melee

“WHAT!?” my mother bellowed.

I suppose she realized for the first time my mind was not focusing on her words. I was just debating if I enjoyed the word vendetta over fisticuffs better before she quickly covered the space separating us. I looked straight into her dark brown eyes, taking in her weathered, angry, yet tired, face.

The silence was thick. All that could be heard was the buzz of some Viagra commercial and the clamor of trashcans and plastic bags outside the slightly open window. It wasn’t

Until this exact moment, did I realize, I’m done? This is it? Yeah, it is.

I could feel her anger spill all over me, for I apparently interrupted her screaming rampage, which normally went for at least five minutes before her guilt trips began to wind down. I knew it by heart, “…You don’t love me, no one loves me, if it wasn’t for your shitty ass for a father I would not be in this position…” ah, yes. If only this was true.

:Ultimatum:

Pronunciation: \ˌəl-tə-ˈmā-təm, -ˈmä-\

: a final proposition, condition, or demand; especially : one whose rejection will end negotiations and cause a resort to force or other direct action

“Mother. You need help. But I cannot help you, unless you want help.” I was beginning to feel cheesy. I could almost picture Doctor Phil standing behind me, nodding his mustached chin up and down. “Or change! Or whatever it is that those psycho-helping people say. I am done helping you kill yourself.”

She opened her mouth to say something but I rudely put my hand up and firmly glared at her.

“I am done mother. Call me when you want to change.”

Before I could listen to another word, touch another dirty object, and smell another whiff of the dingy apartment, I spun around on my heel. I snatched my bag from its messy state, and yanked on the doorknob. I briskly walked down the stairs, swept past Mr. Yanks apartment where I would visit as a little girl to play cards, past Mrs. Marika’s apartment door that was always slightly ajar (just in case her lost cat, Michelangelo, ever found his way back home), and through the double doors at the bottom of the stairs.

:Estrange:

Pronunciation: \i-ˈstrānj\

alienate, disaffect mean to cause one to break a bond of affection or loyalty. estrange implies the development of indifference or hostility with consequent separation or divorcement. alienate may or may not suggest separation but always implies loss of affection or interest. disaffect refers especially to those from whom loyalty is expected and stresses the effects of alienation without actual separation

I walked down those steps in a trance. I realize, that when you walk through places that are familiar to you, you assume details others my not notice. Everything looks different when it aligns with memory and present. But I now analyzed the crack in the cement steps, which I always sat on as a little girl waiting for the bus. On both sides sat the “decorative” shrubs that never seemed to enjoy being there. Weeds popped up between the cracks of the sidewalk.

I walked over to my parked Ford Taurus, and grabbed the rusty handle. Before I jerked open my car door I glanced up at the old brick building complex, and my eyes resting on the window that I know belongs to my mothers. That I know once belonged to me. Maybe… maybe she will call soon. This thought was comforting enough to allow myself to slide into my parked car. She will call. I whispered. She will call…

And with a turn of a key, and shift of a gear, I drove away.

This was the last time.