Chapter Twenty-Six

 

<><> Miriam <><>

 

Despite my mom’s diagnosis, she insists on carrying on with her summer plans like nothing is wrong. She’s determined to attend Bailey’s play, so we get dressed in our finest and make our way to the Norris Theatre.

Bailey joined the local theatre company last summer as a way to build her resume and gain experience for next year at Rutgers University where she will major in Theatre Arts. It’s the same reason I’m lifeguarding and teaching piano. Although she’s an understudy for the second summer running, all that time practicing and waiting in the stage wings has paid off. She finally received 'the call' last week. The lead actress has mono and Bailey will be taking over for the last three performances of Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night. She is already in the groove and ready to shine tonight.

Arriving just before the curtain rises, we find our seats. Filled with a buzz of anticipation, I’m nervous for my bestie, but I know she’ll give it her all since this is what she’s been waiting for. I’m also nervous that this outing may be too much for mom, but as I glance down our row at the smiling faces of the company we keep, I realize it doesn’t matter how weak she is. She needs this experience to feel normal; to feel like she matters. Why would I ever deny her that?

Bailey’s mom Holly and dad Jake are here, along with her little brother Desmond who is practically bouncing in his seat with excitement. Lee is back in rehab and unable to join us. Nunny, Jacinta, Tashelle, Lamont, and Jacinta’s dad Reggie are here too. Halton and his crew are sitting a few rows back from us, although things between Bailey and him have cooled slightly since the 'drug' incident. I didn’t ask Chris to come with me tonight. For some reason, I thought it best not to mention this play. I assumed he wouldn’t be interested, although I must confess I didn’t want to add more stress to my evening. I’m already worrying about too much as it is. I’ll call him later.

The curtain goes up and the scene of a shipwreck, with its carnage and mayhem, captures our attention. Enter the fair young Viola, our heroine, played by the equally fair and capable Bailey Ulrikson. She is clearly in her element, drawing us into the setting and story effortlessly with an ease that betrays her pre-stage nerves. We are riveted for the entire play until the curtain falls. The performance is a grand success.

Although Mom is weak, she participates to the extreme. She claps along with the audience and cheers as the players bow for the final curtain call, enjoying every minute of being out with her friends.

“That kid is going places,” she says to Holly. They smile and hold hands, really taking in the night.

Holly laughs, “Bailey says she wants to be the next Carrie Mulligan or Michelle Williams. We’ll see. She has the passion.”

“And flare for drama,” says Jake. “Maybe she’ll be the next Meryl Streep and I can retire early.”

“Judging by tonight, she’s well on her way. I’m so proud!” Mom smiles and her eyes sparkle in the stage lights. I want to remember her like this, relaxed and carefree. Quietly, there’s an understanding amongst the group. We all know that this may be her last night out. Although the mood is joyous for Bailey, it’s also laced with sadness.

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

Days pass and Mom continues with her chemo treatments as a way of providing relief now, as a palliative treatment. A palliative care nurse named Brenda begins visiting every other day. She’s friendly, but the way she speaks to Mom, all soothing and quiet, I find it infuriating. Mom seems to like it though, so I hold my tongue. Her visits give me a chance to run errands or meet the girls at the coffee shop so we can spend time together before they leave for school. As the departure dates loom, my anxiety spikes. I don’t want them to go.

Holly and Nunny come over on a regular basis now, like today. I know Nunny will drop by with dinner because it’s a Tuesday. She hasn’t called, but I know she’ll be here. When five o’clock rolls around, sure enough, she pulls into the driveway.

“Hi, Nunny. Thanks so much for coming over,” I say, opening the door for her.

“Of course, Miriam, I’m glad to be here. I’ve brought some food so I’ll just take over the kitchen for a while. I have to cook the rice so it’s hot. Didn’t want to bring it in a bowl in case it turned into a big lump.”

“Sure, help yourself.” I guide her into the kitchen, amazed at how easily Nunny just sort of takes over. Mother’s are good like that I guess, just knowing what needs to be done in times of crisis. I hear her singing in there as Jacinta and I settle my mom into her regular chair by the window so she can look out at her beautifully landscaped backyard. Even in the summer heat she requests her cotton throw. I drape it over her legs and kiss her cheek before joining Jacinta and her mom in the kitchen to help.

A little while later, Nunny comes into the living room carrying a tray and sets it down on the small table beside Mom’s chair.

“I’ve brought you some Run Down, Sandra. It’s still hot to the touch, so mind your tongue. Rice?”

My mom closes her eyes and inhales, enjoying the delicate aromas that waft up from the exotic bowls. “Yes, thanks. This smells heavenly, Nunny. You shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble.”

Nunny swats the air before taking the foil off the top of a bowl of fried plantain. “Anything for you, you know that.”

“Run Down?” I ask.

Jacinta smiles. “Mackerel and coconut stew. You’ve had it at my house tons of times but I’ve never called it that.”

“Run Down sounds like the perfect name for any dish made for me,” Mom laughs and we laugh along with her...bittersweet laughter.

“Is it spicy?” I ask with concern.

“Sweetie, I’m okay.”

Nunny puts a hand on my arm. “No, Miri, it’s not. I know your mom’s stomach gets upset with spicy stuff now.”

“And the plantain, it’s fried, right?”

“Yes. Is that bad?” Jacinta looks worried.

My mom reaches out and takes a piece of plantain to neutralize the situation. “Lets have a try. I think it will be fine. No worries, Miriam, really.” It’s as if we all hold our breath as we watch her take a bite. “Mmm, it’s delicious. Just like I remember from our trip to Jamaica all those years ago. You were too young, I think. Do you remember when we went to Montego Bay?”

“How old were you?” Jacinta asks.

“She was seven,” Mom says as she takes another piece of plantain. “Had her hair braided in cornrows and everything. That was some of the best food I’ve ever eaten. What a wonderful holiday that was as a family.”

The mention of the word ‘family’ makes my throat constrict. Yes, my dad was around during the fun times, during holidays, but when the going got tough, the holiday was over. Now Mom’s left in the fallout all alone. “Yes, it was a great holiday. I remember a lot of it.”

“Do you remember swinging in the hammock on the beach at sunset? Or watching me water-ski for the first time?”

“Vaguely.”

“Remember how all of my relatives tried to make you visit them?” Nunny laughs and leans forward to scoop some of the ‘Run Down’ over a bowl full of rice.

“They were hospitable. That was the first and only time I’ve ever been to Jamaica. Wish I could go again.”

The room grows quiet as we all sit and eat. I know everyone’s thinking the same thing. My mom will never travel again.

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

A week passes and Mom’s health deteriorates. I’m finding her decline alarming. More like petrifying.

"Promise me you'll go to Greece. That's one place I never went but always wanted to see. Promise me, sweetie.”

"I promise, Mom."

"Maybe you'll go there on your honeymoon someday. It will be so beautiful."

“Maybe.”

Mom grabs my hand and holds on with surprising strength. She stares at me with determination, forcing me to pay attention. “You know how much I love you, right? You know how proud I am of you, right Miriam?”

I nod, unable to hold back my tears.

“You’ll need to be strong, sweetie, you’ll need to be really strong.”

“Stop.”

“No, you listen to me. You must be strong because you’re going to face some things in life that you don’t want to face. Sometimes you’re too nice and I admire that, but you have to go with your intuition and have guts. Be bossy if you have to. Bossy doesn’t mean bitchy, it means leadership. Promise me you’ll toughen up and be more confident.” Mom holds my stare while squeezing my hand adamantly.

But what if I don’t want to be strong? What if I can’t handle this by myself? “Okay, I promise.”

“And promise me you’ll let love into your heart and never settle.” She waits. “Promise me!”

“I promise.”

She releases my hand and relaxes back on the pillow. I take her hand back, not wanting to let it go just yet.

“Good,” she closes her eyes. “I had to get that off my chest.” Her breathing becomes shallow. I stay, watching her breathing and wondering what it will be like when she takes her last breath. Will it be like any other breath, or really deep? Will I be able to tell? “Don’t leave me,” I whisper, but she’s already asleep. I kiss her cheek and pull up the blanket. Hesitating in the doorway, I wonder if maybe I should lay beside her tonight and then change my mind because supposedly I move around a lot when I sleep and I don’t want to disturb her.

 

 

I sleep in until eight because I was up half the night crying. I checked on Mom twice in the night, the last time at four-ten and her breathing had been rhythmic and normal. As I walk toward her room, I know she’s gone before I even reach her door. The silence that surrounds me is my first indicator. There is just something one cannot explain, a feeling that a life has left. I see her from the doorway, her mouth open, her eyes shut. Her face looks peaceful and relaxed. There is no movement, no gentle rising and falling of her ribs, no stirring in her sleep, no energy. My mother is not here.

I approach her bed cautiously, not sure if I want to see her this way, but knowing that I have to. I sit beside her and take her hand, hardly able to see through my tears. “No,” I say again and again. “No.”

If only I’d known that last night would be our last conversation, our last kiss, our last moment together. If only I’d stayed with her. I have no idea how long I sit with her because I’m numb. “Goodbye, Mom. I love you.”

I call Nunny and Holly and my mom’s doctor who calls the ambulance and coroner to pronounce her. I then call my dad in Connecticut and my aunt in Chicago; all while my mom’s body lays lifeless in the other room. It’s surprising how easily a person can go through the motions of regular activity while they’re in shock. I know I’m in shock right now. All I want to do is curl up beside my mom and cry…so I do.

The ambulance is the first to arrive, followed by Nunny and Holly who are accompanied by Jacinta and Bailey. I stay with my mom the entire time, knowing this is all the time I’ll have with her before she physically slips out of my life forever. Even though I knew her death was coming, I can’t believe it has happened. I am in complete disbelief.