This story came to be due to a similar experience I had a few days ago...
The Last Good Bye
Shocked, was the best way to describe the look on my face after hearing the earsplitting sound of porcelain meeting cold hard marble flooring. At the moment of impact two thoughts raced through my head – 'why this one?' and 'why did I not catch it?'. Where were my unnatural reflexes I had relied on for two decades now? I stared at the white and pink shards that lay scattered in different sizes and shapes before me like some bizarre mosaic. The eye of one small piglet stared at me accusingly.
A picture of Renée and me on my third birthday took shape in my head. It must've been the first birthday present I remember – and the only one of the few that was still around... until now. I remembered how she used to call me her little piglet until I was about eleven years old and she started on the middle-aged woman thing.
This cereal bowl had been with me for thirty-seven years now, its timeless motif of pink little pigs marching in a row around the outside of the bowl had been a constant reminder of how much my mom loved and knew me. 'She was always supportive of my cereal fetish' I mused in my mind.
The broken pieces of my memory blurred for a moment and I felt HIS presence before he placed his hands on my waist and pressed himself to my back. "What happened Love?" He whispered softly in my ear. Yeah. What exactly DID happen? There had been no need for me to be down here in the brand new and UNUSED kitchen. Our meals were not served on a platter or in a cereal bowl – the items stashed away in the cabinets merely props and memorabilia.
Renée's last E-Mail was probably what had caused the nostalgia – the need for something I connected with my Happy-go-lucky mother. She had asked for the I-don't-know-how-maniest time if Edward and I could come and visit her and Phil. Her complaints about not having seen her daughter in
ages were – unlike those of some whiny parents – legitimate. The last time we had seen each other was on my wedding almost twenty-one years ago.
Communication since then had been sparse – letters, phone calls, E-Mails, pictures altered by a special program on the computer (there was simply no kind of lotion or surgery that could make you look like 18 when you were supposed to be close to 40). After my transformation I had Edward type up E-Mails to Renée and write letters to Charlie in my name, assuring them that I was doing fine and was simply too stressed out with getting situated in our new apartment near Dartmouth College – which was really a remote log house in the Alaskan wilderness – and starting my education – which contained learning to deal with my thirst and how to hunt elk, moose and other big game rather than studying Philosophy and Literature.
Surprisingly this process only took me four months to master. I gained enough control to calmly talk on the phone to Renée as well as Charlie. And after a year I had my strength reined in enough to be able to use the computer myself. Previous experiments had rendered three of them useless when I pulverized the keyboard and threw the entire machine out the window in the following spell of frustration.
My head turned ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of the angelic face resting beside my own. It showed concern. "Is this…" "Yes!" I cut him off in a strangled voice. Sadness gripped my cold and silent heart. I knew – if it was possible – tears would be running down the icy skin of my cheeks now. I took a deep quivering breath before I continued. "I think it's time now!" Edward nuzzled my neck in response – no further explanation was needed.
Memories of dozens of our conversations about this dreaded topic entered my mind. Fact was that college had only lasted so long, we could only travel to so many countries, feign so many illnesses and pretend to be busy for so long before my parents' patience would run out.
Something constricted my chest in a way that made me believe I would suffocate any moment. I knew it wasn't Edward's arms that had pulled me in for a hug that was intended to be comforting. I inhaled his sweet scent and let it sweep my mind. Twisting myself out of his embrace, I averted my eyes from the last remains of my human life to get a brush and dust pan.
Declining his offer to clean up, I forced myself to move at human speed, watching intently how the white and pink shards gathered in the dust pan with every deliberate sweep. With every sweep I not only cleaned my kitchen floor, but brushed memories… pieces of me… under the carpet that had already covered up other memories of my past.
The clear sound of the porcelain hitting the bottom of the empty trash can tore me out of my stupor. Taking a deep breath I broke through the constricting grip around my chest. It was time. Time to end the charade… time to end the suffering… It was time for my last good bye!
