'Take Back What You Said'
Even now you feel as though you must have the last say. When will you let me live in peace?
Across the square coffee table sat the unshakable pest. His black eyes held a troublesome determination in them. Weathered from cocaine abuse his features looked run down at its best.
All of this over a will? I refuse to take on unnecessary stress!
I crossed my slender legs to show my readiness to wait out the storm. The smile on his face was smug and distasteful.
"After revealing that half-baked plan how can you be so smug? Your words are without standing and lack basic structure! This is the last time you will appear in front of me! Get. Out. Now!" I spoke with a crisp tone of voice.
The room made for negotiations was now gone. Lloyd wasted the generous olive branch I graciously extended to him by listening to his 'concerns'. His smile deepened becoming more twisted as the seconds ticked by. Is he on something? I've had enough! I stood up, looking down on him.
"Were my previous statements unclear?" The growing irritation in my mind found its home within my words.
"No, but humour me. Just this once?"
"I already did! There is nothing more to discuss! Out! Now!" Lloyd rose up from his seat on the white sofa.
Not willing to give up, Lloyd said, "Did the will really fail to mention me? We were together for fifteen years! She must have written something about me." I felt as though my previous words had entered one ear and left the next.
"Just get out or do I have to call building security?" Lloyd watched me one last time. He shook his head. "Hard to believe. So hard to believe," said Lloyd.
Walking down the hallway he knew very well, he left my condo. I relaxed slightly. Today is the day Mom. Are you ready? I'm sort of ready. I took my black suit jacket off the door hook and slipped into it. Connecting the two halves, the button which held it together was fastened.
Turning around I gave the room one last sweep with my eyes. Satisfied that everything was in place, I left.
The humidity of London caused the white shirt I wore to cling to my body. The crawling traffic added to the uncomfortable feeling the shirt gave me. Is there nothing good on the radio of late?
I jumped between the stations waiting on that perfect song to begin playing. Mom I'm almost there. Have you arrived as yet? The alarm of my watch went off. My thoughts drifted to that day. She had just finished her workout, her watch wouldn't shut up.
Full of smiles and excitement she stepped into the house. Several attempts were made to silence her watch timer.
"Hey baby. I thought you would have come sooner to visit. I know you miss your dearest mother!" Her hazel eyes sparkled in the evening light creating an eerie shade of brown.
"Yes, I missed you." I parroted to her. Seeing the satisfaction in her eyes, I relaxed somewhat.
"Are you going to tell me about your new place? I still think it's a tad far from me." She took some vegetables out of the fridge and started preparing a meal.
"It's nice. It is on the sixty-ninth floor and has an amazing view. We have a communal pool and gym, but I have yet to use them. Overall its good enough for me. I don't think it's too far. To besides, aren't I here right now?" I walked across to a bar stool and sat down behind the kitchen island.
I watched her stir the vegetables and meat in preparation for the tomato sauce, with nimble, experienced hands.
"Baby, the pasta is almost done. Would you like for me to serve you some?" She smiled brightly at me. Crap! It's been so long since she cooked for me. Does he eat pasta? I can't remember. Damn it! I hope I don't screw this up! With a fifty percent chance of getting her question right or wrong. I answered as politely as I could.
"No, mother." The pot spoon in her hand dropped into the pot noisily. Her face became ugly and distorted.
"Who are you! Where is Damien! Where is my son? Give me back my son!" With each sentence spoken, she threw random pots and pans at me. I had a fifty – fifty chance and I screwed up. In the nick of time, I ducked, avoiding a pan that missed my head by millimeters.
"This is his favourite food! Damien loves pasta! Get out! Impostor!" Her voice increased in volume and pitch. She screamed her lungs empty.
"Where is Damien? I want my son!" I could hear her breathing becoming more and more laboured.
Pointing at me with eyes full of accusation, she said, "You know where he is! You took his place. You know where he is! Tell me, you bloody pig!"
Take that back! Take it... back!
The heaviness in my heart became too much to bear. It squeezed tightly at her words. I am right here Mom! I bit back the answer that burned in the back of my throat.
Deviating from our scripted routine, I said, "Damien Daggasse isn't here. You can't find him, because I took him far away," I paused before continuing, "He is never coming back." I added knowing that knowing it would be like adding fuel to a fire. Her eyes opened wide and her hand stretched out, pointing at me.
"You. You. You!" She said with a breathy voice. Yes Mother. Me. She walked around to where I sat.
Standing less than an arm's length away she said, "You, repeat those last words." I hardened my heart.
"He is never coming back."
One, two... on the third beat a hot, searing slap landed across my face. Devoid of all rational thought, she lunged at me griping my neck. I let her choke me. Are you happy now? Mother. I want you to be happy.
Her beautiful, brown face morphed into one of complete disgust. Her breathing steadied itself somewhat. I felt her thin fingers that released me, slide along the contours of my face and head. I closed my eyes savouring the feel of her touch.
Without warning she gripped my short hair slamming my head into the countertop. Skin and marble met each other causing a wave of dizziness to hit me. Do you feel better? Mother. I want you to get better. I looked into the voids of her hazel orbs. Mother, do your worst. I closed my eyes and waited on that special feeling. The one only she and I shared. It didn't arrive.
A heavy object fell to the ground. My eyes shot open. There she lay writhing on the floor. What's happening?
"Mother!" I shouted, cradling her in my arms. What's going on? I pulled out my phone and dialled the paramedics. I quickly described to them what was happening and gave them her address. Mother! I flung the phone away. Giving her my full attention. In less than three minutes her body shuddered and stopped moving. My heart beat pounded loudly in my ears.
"Mother. Mother? Mother!" I screamed out from the pain I felt in my heart.
It still hurts. Just like that time. From an unimaginable pain to a dull ache. No matter which form you take I will remember you. I drove the car into the church yard. One, two. One, two. I inhaled and exhaled to steady my raging heart.
Not delaying things further, I stepped out and headed inside. Besides myself, the church held a small number of people, thirteen in total. The priest and his aids, the coffin bearers, her neighbours and ... him.
Why didn't you make an effort to clean yourself up, before coming here. What did she ever see in you! I pulled my line of sight away from him and sat down in the empty front pew.
The proceedings went by smoothly and the eulogy brought tears to my eyes. You've left me too soon. Mother. The time for the procession arrived quickly. Three other men joined me, each taking a corner of the coffin. The weight of the box on my shoulders felt light in comparison to the weight in my heart. Mother!
I schooled my facial expression as we walked forward. The small procession took no more than five minutes to reach the site in the graveyard. The priest performed her last rites. He then announced the final viewing. One of the coffin bearers was allowed to open the lid.
A small path was made for me to walk up. Upon reaching the coffin I looked down to her sun kissed skin, with her tight black coils framing her face. She looked like a doll. Frozen in time, only awaiting the call of her name. Mother. How could you leave me here alone?
I lifted my head to the sky and squeezed my eyes shut. I hope you are well wherever you have gone to. One, two. One, two. I opened my eyes and nodded to the priest. Haven gotten the go ahead. They closed the lid and it began its descent. I watched as they pulled the straps off the handles and tossed them to the side.
A grave digger lifted his shovel and with one practiced move, he sent a shovel full of dirt into the hole. Thunk! Tha-dum! Boom! The stiff pieces of soil landed heavily on the surface of the hollow box. Once, twice, three times. The dirt's impact ricocheted in the air above it. The dam in my eyes overflowed. Mom! Oh God!
The image of her body being jolted around by the sudden force caused me to cry out. Mom! My body shook violently. I could only stand by powerlessly and listen to the defilement of her coffin. The sheathing sound of the shovels entering the dirt added to the mournful symphony of the attendees singing voices.
The world felt unsteady as I watched the hole become more full. I'm alone now. No. God No! Mom! The burial mound was built high above the ground. One of the priest's aides handed me the grave marker and a hammer.
A bronze cross with a plate attached. I read the plate once more. 'Diane Dagasse. Loving Mother and Recognized Artist. Sunrise 1970 - Sunset 2019'. The last of my kin is ... gone. I placed the marker on the head of the grave and with the help of the grave digger. I placed five strikes on the marker to drive it deep enough into the ground. I released the air trapped in my chest. Rest peacefully.
"It's ok Damien. She's in a better place," said the Priest in a low voice. I nodded in agreement to his consoling words.
Wiping away the dampness below my eyes, I said, "Yes. I hope she is."
We began to walk back in the direction of the churchyard entrance. Like a string being tugged I couldn't help but look back. My hazel eyes lighting upon her freshly dug grave mound. Mother! Please wait for me. I felt my heart tear in two whilst walking away from the graveyard.
"Damien I know you are grieving but, what are you going to do about them?" The Priest pointed to the closed church gates.
In the chaos of my bereavement, I had completely forgotten them. Standing outside the churchyard stood dozens of well-wishers, reporters and paparazzi. Armed with their microphones and recording devices, their eyes hungry for the newest hot topic gleamed in the sunlight.
Only you could draw a crowd of this magnitude Mother. I turned my back to the flashing lights.
"Nothing, absolutely nothing. That was specifically written in the will." I responded to the priest. His head shook in understanding.
"I must leave. However if you need any support, the church offers help with open arms." He said, as he turned and walked with his aides into the church.
I entered my car and started the engine. The roar of the crowd's dissatisfaction reached my ears through the raised windows. I shrugged inwardly. Not my will, but Mother's. Placing my shades over my eyes, I pulled out of the car park. The media went crazy as the gates opened for me to leave. Police cleared a path for me to drive through.
With the depressing scenery behind me, I pressed hard on the gas and sped down the highway. Gone. She's gone. Mother. Mother is gone! I desperately tried to wrap my head around the thought. The bitter taste of loss lingered in my mouth.
Centuries Pub. The name popped into my head. I haven't been there in ages. My hands developed a mind of their own taking me in the direction of my old stop. I arrived in less than half an hour. Finally getting a spot to park, I turned off the engine.
You haven't changed at all since I last patronized you. I shut the car door behind me, locking it with the click of a button. A soft bell rang above the door upon entry. Soft jazz flowed out the speakers creating an odd atmosphere for daytime drinking. I sat on a stool in front of the counter.
Lifting up my shades, I signalled the bartender. With a slight intonation, he addressed me.
"Good-day sir. What can I get you today?" The young man smiled pleasantly at me. I returned the smile.
"One bottle of Jack Daniel's Honey chilled and a glass," I said, enunciating each word with care.
"Coming right up." I paid then turned to find a seat in an empty corner.
A waiter came up to me a few minutes later. He held a tray on which stood a bottle sitting in a metal bucket filled with ice. He placed it on my table alongside a glass.
"Thank you." I gave him a half smile and a tip. He graciously accepted it and left.
I lifted the bottle out of the bucket. Jack Daniel's Tennessee Honey Whiskey. My smooth brown fingers peeled away the black seal and twisted the head of the bottle. Ah music to my ears!
The distinct cracking of the seal being broken lifted my spirits. I slowly poured the liquor into the low ball whiskey glass. Beautiful. I nursed the glass for the duration of a song and a half. Sending the last of it down my throat, I savoured the unique burn. Perfect!
Time crawled forward and the volume of the bottle receded downwards. Glass by glass the ache in my heart slowly became a distant memory, unreachable to my tipsy mind. I sent the remainder of the liquid in the glass down my throat. Licking my lips soon after.
"I can't believe there was a time I wanted to give you up!" I murmured to myself. My idle fingers slid down the curve of the bottle's neck committing each groove to memory.
"Need some help with that?" The voice shocked me out of my listless thoughts.
I raised my head slowly. A pair of bright black eyes made contact with my hazel ones. My gaze burned through him, as I took in every detail with a head to toe sweep. Smokey silver hair, a slender face set with dark eyebrows and even darker eyes. A slender yet, toned upper body teased through his thin jersey.
"Well aren't you handsome!" Fuck! Did I say that out loud!
Copyright © 2019 Ynes Barrow All Rights Reserved
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