Respect Thy Mother

            My mother took the wheel of the Suburban. It was perhaps the biggest car she had ever driven, at least to my knowledge. From my view in the back seat, I saw her look from left to right, slowly scanning the layout of the driver’s seat, and necessary controls. She had refused to let anyone occupy the passenger seat. There was a long silence, followed by several seconds of inaction.

            “Mom are you sure you want to drive, one of us can if you're not up for it,” I offered hoping she’d take the bait.

            She ignored me, and began to pull out of the parking space at a snail’s pace. I looked at my father, my brother and my girlfriend in that order, my doubt was on full display. However, their faces seemed resigned to the fact that there would be no stopping her from driving. Slowly and precariously she backed the Suburban out of the spot. This whole process took about 5 minutes. 

            “Mom, really you seem a little uncomfortable. I can take over--”

            “No! David you just sit back and relax I am going to drive!” She checked every mirror two, and three times over, “We had a nice day shopping and now we are going to go get something to eat. And I am going to get us there.” 

            “Mom you seem a little lost driving this thing. Really its okay. I can do it.” My offer was met with a lecture.

            “You know you need to have a little bit more faith in me. Just because I'm old does not mean I can't do it myself.” 

            Again I looked around at my family members within the car, but they gave no responses. “Alright fine do whatever you want, just be careful.” 

            My mother’s progress and driving the vehicle was slow. But it was progress nonetheless.  A few painstaking minutes of quiet followed wherein my mother continued to navigate the large SUV down each level of the parking structure. I relaxed a bit and began to look at my phone checking a few emails and other menial tasks.  

            It took only a few more minutes before my concentration was ripped away as I heard the sound of metal meeting metal. I looked up from my seat in the rear of the Suburban only to see my mother finish driving straight through a rolled steel gate.  

            I looked around at everyone else in the vehicle and if they took any issue with this driving tactic, it didn't seem to register on their faces. “Oh my God! Mom what the fuck are you doing?!” 

            “Oh David, I figured you'd be upset with me. Don't blame this on me, you know I'm getting older but you let me drive anyway.” 

            I was livid at the words, but didn’t say so. The car was now stopped, fully outside the gate. As I looked around us it seemed my mother had not only driven through a closed gate, but she also missed the actual street exit of the parking garage, as the vehicle, including as its occupants, were now in a service alley of some kind behind the mall we had just visited.  

            “Turn off the car Mom.” I heard a dating jingling of keys and the engine was quiet. “Is everyone okay?” I said almost absently as I stepped out of the car. 

            Surveying the Suburban’s exterior, I noticed some minor scratches around the front side panels. “Ok it doesn't look too bad actually.” I turned to look at the gate, it however hadn't fared too well. The Suburban had made it look as though a bomb had went off from inside, removing it completely from its guides on one side.  I took a breath and reentered the SUV, “Okay we need to find the office so we can tell them what happened.”  

            “I'm not going to do that, we’re going to go eat.” 

            “Mom, are you kidding you drove through a their damned gate! What’s wrong with you?” 

            “What’s wrong with you?” she snapped back, “How dare you talk to me this way!”

            “Are you insane? You had an accident; the right thing to do is report it.”

            “No, I’m hungry- we are all hungry, and we need to eat.”

            I turned to my family, and girlfriend, looking for any support, but they were all quiet, Their faces nearly blank as a matter of fact, I took at as no one wanted to pick this battle as worth fighting.

            “Sit down and get your seatbelt back on.” My mother ordered, “Just focus on something else if you’re so nervous about my driving. You typically multitask when I talk to you anyway.”

            “Ok fine, but after we eat, we come back here and tell them what happened.”       

            “Agreed. Take a nap or something until we get there, as you might say, with the way I drive it will be awhile.”

            I did as I was told. Eventually, I dozed deeply, jostling awake only when we hit a hard bump. Once I got my wits about me after waking, I feared the worst. Dragging my chin up from my chest I asked, “Oh God, what happened now?”

            I looked around me and everything had changed. Well almost everything. I was still in the Suburban’s rear seat, but seated around me were faces I didn’t recognize. Three blonde children that were maybe ten to twelve years old had replaced my father, brother and girlfriend. Their blue eyes gleamed eagerly at me, but the looks on their faces showed only distain.

            “Who the fuck are you?”

            “Hey don’t cuss in front of my kids jerk.”

            I looked up to the driver’s seat and my mother had vanished as well. In her place was a rather large man in a t-shirt. The t-shirt plainly showed biceps nearly as big as my head. “Brock Lesnar?”

           

            “That’s right you little weasel.”

            “What is going on?”

            “Your mother asked me to take care of you.” He spoke to me while driving, but was doing little in the way of watching the road. The children, who I assumed were his, continued to judge me with their gaze.

            “Take care of me? I thought we were going to dinner.”

            “Oh we're still going, it’s just when we get there I’m going to beat your ass.”

            “Hey, language in front of the kids remember?”

            “Shut up you little twerp, I’m going to knock you into next week for disrespecting your mom. You should be ashamed of yourself!” The kids nodded profusely for punctuation.

            As timing would have it, we coasted up to the front of a restaurant at that moment.

            “Oh, I get it, this is a dream.”

            With these words the children and my celebrity driver looked at me with confusion. Mr. Lesnar spoke, “What do you mean dream? You’ll be on Dream Street when I knock your sorry carcass out cold.” Mr. Lesnar giggled maniacally at his statement.

            “No Mr. Lesnar, you won’t this is a dream and you can’t hurt me.”

            “Pshh, you’re rude and nuts. Just how do you think you’re going to beat me?”

            “I’m not. I’m going to run away.” Even as I spoke, I clamored forward into the seat ahead of me, over the kids and flung the passenger door open. Stepping on the curb, I began to run, as fast as I could. “It’s a dream!” I screamed back at the vehicle, laughing while I did.

            I ran for only a little while before I knew I needed to hide. If Lesnar decided to chase me, it would be a one way ticket to suplex city. Even in dream form I did not want to experience that.                       Looking around I realized where I was. I was at Westgate, an “entertainment district” in Glendale, Arizona- or at least it was my subconscious mind’s recreation of Westgate. Thinking on my feet I past the first few places I saw, running into a bar there that had a patio on its west side. I thought if I got cornered, I might be able to flee through there.

            However, my plan was quickly forgotten. Running through the dining area, I pushed my way through a door with a crash bar and ended up in another service alley. It looked remarkably similar to the one my mother had drove into earlier. “Really? Did most of my dream budget go to securing Brock Lesnar as guest star?”

            I looked around, there was no exit. I was surrounded by trash and concrete walls on all sides. “Shit, I’ve got to get out of here! I need to wake up!”

            As I was trying to figure how to best do that, a classmate of mine appeared before me. We’ll call him “Will”, because that’s his name.

            “David, me and some of the others from school are here, you ok? We saw you run through the bar. You good?”

            My only answer, “I need to wake up!”

            “Did you have too much to drink?” he asked, edging closer to see if I was alright. 

            When I shouted, “I know I’ll hold my breath!” he shuddered away.

            I had no time to waste to act on my brilliant idea. Immediately, I threw myself on the dirty ground and forced myself to stop breathing. My subconscious did its best to simulate my lack of breath, but I was not fooled. The sensation felt more like a deep clenching in my chest muscles, but I could tell I was still getting oxygen.

            However, when I realized it wasn’t working as a method to wake me up, I stood up, now covered in murky trash water and grime from the ground. “Shit!”

            In my peripheral vision, I saw Will still staring like I was a lunatic.

            “Try something else.” I repeated, “Try something else.” Another thought came; I began to scream, “SAAARRRAAHHH! HEEELLLPPP MEEE!”

            My thinking being that I would force myself to scream in the dream-world, and I would consciously begin to cry out in the real world, prompting my girlfriend to come wake me up before Lesnar could reach me.

            I looked to the night sky in my dreamscape, waiting for a sign that my technique had worked. But the dream world remained.

            “Think of something else,” became my new mantra. If only there were a way out of here, I could escape and no one could find me.

            The thought was never even verbalized, but as it came and went in my mind I saw one side of the service area burst open. It started as a warm yellow-orange light, but gradually I could see shapes; a street, flanked by a sidewalk, glowing neon of other restaurant and bar signs greeted me. I saw other people walking within this newly created route. None of them seemed to notice the hole that opened up in the concrete wall in front of all of us.

            I looked back at the door that led inside, it was closed. Will was gone, and Lesnar had not busted through while I was distracted.

            I smiled and trotted towards the way out.

Disconnected (Part 2 of 2)

“Thanks for calling honey, it’s good to hear from you.”

June, her gold-blonde curls defying her age, sat smoking a cigarette in her kitchen. A cell phone balanced loosely between her ear and palm. She’s shaking mildly, and her eyes are red and swollen.

“Well, I told him we were going to see Grandma Hale because he thinks she’s still in the hospital,” the woman sniffs back a sob, “He was angry with me that I woke him up. But instead of telling me something, he just stared at me, his eyes going all blank… he couldn’t even tell that the coffee was too hot, or let me know that he had burnt his tongue.” This time June couldn’t help herself, the tears came.

“Sorry honey. Yes I’m ok, in fact I probably need to get it off my chest. No, on the car ride he was just as distant, only a blank stare out the window. Although, the off and on spark in his eye, gave away the fact that I think deep down he knew we weren’t going to St. Joseph’s.”

“And as silly as it sounds I took Abbey along so he could say goodbye. Oh no, I think she knew, she was whining the whole way there, and you should’ve seen her once we got to the room!”

“No I just couldn’t bear to stay. The attending physician said that with his condition he would probably benefit from a clean break, he would adjust more quickly without my hovering over him.”

“Yes, I’ll visit him on Wednesday, I guess they recommended a transition period of at least 72 hours. I just hope the adjustment is a smooth one. I pray he isn’t lonely or scared. Oh, and I found the strangest thing yesterday when I was cleaning the spare room-” June laughed, and the miserable strain on her face lifted for just a brief moment. “Yes, okay your room. Anyway, your father must’ve been hoarding his drawings in there for who knows how long. Tucked away in one of the computer desk drawers were dozens of scribbles of orange and white stick figures of elephants. I don’t know why he would’ve been fixated on such a thing.”

June paused to let out a sigh before beginning to speak again.

“You know what I find myself wondering most of all?” The daughter on the opposite end of the phone caught the sadness in her mother’s voice. She remained quiet, only listening, knowing her mother needed to let it out, all of it. June’s voice audibly cracked from the emotional strain, but the words were genuine, and she forced herself to see them through. “I wonder, when he slips away, and his eyes get that glassy distance in them, what he sees when he no longer sees me?”

 

   

 

Disconnected (Part 1 of 2)

I woke Sunday morning to the gentle reminder of my wife June, saying that we were going to visit her grandmother in the hospital. I didn’t take it well. I was grumpy, maybe even irate with her, for some reason I couldn’t control myself. I yelled at her because I wanted to sleep in, it was Sunday after all. Admittedly, after I admonished her for waking me up, I felt guilty, but when I tried to tell her the words just wouldn’t come. I even felt bad, maybe even confused by that. If I was being honest, it might’ve scared me.

With her insistence, I got up and got ready, the coffee she made me was too hot. Though due to my outburst when she woke me I let it slide, unfortunately this upset her when I inexplicably burned my tongue. Again, I found myself unable to communicate this to her quickly enough, even as I could feel the liquid searing my taste buds.

The car ride to the hospital was quiet, June seemed troubled. I suspect she was upset with me because of my shenanigans earlier that morning.  I wanted to ask her about it, but I was too ashamed, so I kept to myself, mostly watching the scenery fly by outside. Fields of tall light green grasses swayed in the wind. I watched this occur for miles at a stretch as we sped along the highway.       

Distantly, I recollected that this was not in fact the way to St. Joseph’s. For a moment there was a fleeting feeling that I should tell June that she was headed the wrong way. Again, my self-confidence didn’t allow for this, and instead I returned to my window watching.

I also thought it was strange that she had loaded Abbey, our golden retriever into the backseat. I didn’t make it out to hospitals much anymore, but I thought the medical community generally frowned upon dogs in hospices. This I did end up asking June about, but much to my surprise, all my mouth could muster was, “Abbey’s here?”

“Yes dear,” she replied, “she’s coming with us.” Her eyes went immediately back to the road, but she gently stroked her hand across mine. It was her way of reassuring me, letting me know that everything would be alright.

The drive ended later than I expected and when we arrived at St. Joseph’s it looked drastically different than what I’d remembered. “This is it?”, I asked June while trying to disguise the confusion in my voice.

Again I felt her rub my hand with hers. She didn’t say anything. Together, along with Abbey, we walked hand in hand to the front door. June had me wait with the dog in the entryway while she went inside to chat with the young woman at the front desk. Briefly, I glanced around the place. If I had to describe it in a word, it would’ve been ‘drab’. If I’d been allowed two words, the second would’ve been ‘depressing’. The lobby was that stale yellow wallpaper that hadn’t been seen since that the seventies, and with good reason. Fake plants had taken root, flanking the reception desk on either side. It was dim inside, as if the day’s full sun hadn’t yet made its way past the walls here. It looked a lot like the hospital in which my father had passed nearly two decades ago.

I didn’t like it.

June came back after a few moments and we all followed a woman in pink and purple scrubs to a small waiting room. She told us someone would be right with us and smiled as she shut the door.  Inside, was a small two-seater couch and a coffee table with a stack of six month old magazines speed across its surface.  Abbey curled up at our feet, and looked up at me with those expressive eyes of hers. I stroked her neck like she liked and turned to June, “Abbey seems concerned, you see the way she’s looking at me?” Staring back at Abbey, I began in a sing-songy voice, “I’m okay girl, everything’s fine! You’re a good girl!”

When I turned my gaze back to June her eyes looked heavy. After thirty-seven years of marriage, I knew when something was weighing on her. Experience also told me that it was futile to ask, she wouldn’t budge in telling me what she was hiding behind those eyes until she was good and ready.

We continued to wait, the silence similar to that of the car ride over. I thought June might be concerned to see her grandmother in less than good health. I attributed her silence to that fact. My silence however, was inexplicable to even me. Normally, I was pretty jovial, making comments about our surroundings, cracking jokes, or even bringing up news or current events. For some reason I couldn’t muster it this day. Then again, I tried real hard and couldn’t come up with the last time I had done any of those things.

I was pulled from my thoughts as June excused herself she said he needed to use the restroom and she was going to check with the staff, as we had been waiting for a long while.

I stayed back with Abbey wishing we had brought something to help keep her entertained.   Regardless, I repeated the ridiculous baby talk that parents and pet owners say to their respective kids and rubbed her belly to make sure she wouldn’t get restless.

The downside was, I was the one that ended up getting restless. It seemed June was taking a long time to find help from the staff. I didn’t want to seem impatient or show that I didn’t think she could handle it herself so I waited about an hour before it occurred to me to go check on her. I left Abbey in the waiting room, closing the door behind me as I went.

I wondered the halls, noting that the layout seemed different than before. I didn’t see the drab yellow wallpaper, the front desk was no longer where I had left it upon arriving. This frightened me, I wanted to find June right away. The young woman who had been attending the front desk was no longer there, now a dark haired man with a thin mustache waved and smiled at me as I approached.

“Where’s June?” I quickly realized he wouldn’t have known who she was, and added, “My wife; glasses, gold-blonde hair?”

The man nodded as if he didn’t understand what I had said, and replied with a strange follow-up, “Good morning would you like to take a walk outside Mr. Turner?”

This idea appealed to me greatly, and proved distracting. What had I come out here for to begin with? “Yes, let me go get my dog.” I trotted back to the waiting room, thinking that Abbey might need to stretch her legs.

When I returned to the waiting room, it appeared empty. Abbey was gone. There was no trace of her, not even her leash. I paused, grappling with my own bewilderment. I was too weak to even call out her name, as the chill of fear stiffened my veins. I stood still, only to find myself rocking back and forth. I wasn’t entirely voluntary. I wanted June to be there with me.  Where had she gone? Why wasn’t she back yet?  

“Mr. Turner?” a few quick knocks against the open door frame behind me. It was that little mustached man. “Still want to go outside and take a stroll?”

I felt myself nodding, despite the fact that I knew there was something I should be doing, someone I should be looking for…

“Are you ready?”

I nodded, and the mustached man took my arm, and led me outside.  As we exited I saw a grand outdoor stage, currently draped in a luxurious velvet curtain. I couldn’t contain my excitement. I asked the mustached man, “Will they have a show today?”

I saw him try to look around, to see what I was seeing, as if the stage wasn’t even there. Eventually he said, “Yes, Mr. Turner they’ll be something going on later this morning on the lawn. We usually hold a brunch there under the gazebo for residents and their visitors.”

I took my cell phone from my pocket and snapped a picture. I nodded, even though I felt his answer was not to my question. “June is missing out! Pretty fancy stage, for a hosp-” Where was I again?   I wanted to ask the mustached man, but to ask the question seemed somehow embarrassing. I should know where I’m at. But I couldn’t focus on that for long, as I turned I saw the magnificent gardens, the fancy landscaping stretched on for miles. At the side of the walkway every so often was a flag, showing what I could only assume was the logo of the place. It was white, with an orange border and had what resembled a simple drawing of an elephant in its center.

I didn’t know what to make of this, but was quickly captivated by the lush flowers that made up the garden beds all around me. It was beautiful, and well maintained to boot. I couldn’t recall the last time I had seen so many varieties of roses, and so many colors, colors that I never realized roses even came in; traditional reds and pinks, but as I continued to look, I noted blues and yellows, purples and blacks. All of them adorning the ground in arranged waves of color, like a rainbow had fallen from the sky.

I went for my cell phone again, snapping as many pictures as I could. Thinking that I knew someone that would want to see this gorgeous site. I paused trying to remember who it was I wanted to share this experience with, but found it beyond me.

Regardless, I carried on taking in the vast grounds. Just above the rows of flowers was a large stone fountain, its centerpiece a wonderfully sculpted copper lizard that had developed its own striking patina. It didn’t spray water from its mouth, but its feet sat within the small collecting pool at the base of the fountain. It was lovely. When I went to snap its picture, I thought my eyes might be playing tricks. While looking through the viewfinder on my phone, I saw the lizard ripple and shake as though it was an image reflected on the surface of a pond. I lowered the phone from view, and everything returned to normal. When I finally snapped the picture, the phenomenon had ended.

Continuing to take it all in I noticed the courtyard began to climb up a gradual hill. Abbey would’ve loved this. Which led to wondering where she was. I looked to the sky, which had just started to cloud. This led to thinking of June, and how she loved the rain. I wondered where she had gotten off to.

TO BE CONTINUED