He picked up the phone, sticking it between his ear and his shoulder while tapping away at his keyboard with one hand and jotting something down in child's scrawl with his non-dominant hand.
"John Bates speaking."
"This is Isobel Crawley."
"I'm sorry, who?"
"I'm the nurse on call for your mother."
John stopped, his jaw dropping in time with the pen in his hand. "What happened to my mother?"
"She's asking for you Mr. Bates." The woman on the other end of the line paused, "I don't think she's got very long Mr. Bates. I think you should hurry."
John hung up the phone, grabbing his jacket and keys as he hurried out the door. "Jane, hold all calls and cancel whatever meetings I still have for the rest of the day. I've got a personal emergency."
"Yes sir." The woman called after him as John slid into the lift, jabbing the button there harder than he needed to but not enough to ease the emotions roiling through him.
His leg shook, aching enough to leave his fist to grind deep into the muscle to stop the spasm there. It only stalled the pain until the lift doors opened. He attempted to run to his car but his leg seized and he limped to the door, opening it while grimacing past the pain.
Throwing the car into reverse he rocketed out of the parking garage, ignoring the honking from another car to speed down the street. No flashing lights followed his progress, even after he skidded around a corner and fishtailed before regaining control of his car. The engine revved, the tires on his sports car screeching over the road, and he slammed it to park in one of the open spaces near the building.
John ran inside, barely noting his tap of the fob to lock his car, and managed his limping gait to the main nurse's station. "Mrs. Bates?"
"This way Mr. Bates." The older woman motioned for him down the hall and John followed her, trying to stretch out his leg as he walked. "She's not in any pain but she's not entirely conscious."
"As long as I can see her." John followed the nurse to a room, waiting for her to open the door before going to enter but the nurse grabbed his arm. "What?"
"These are her last moments."
'You don't know that." John pointed in the woman's face, "She was fine this morning."
"I've worked in hospice care for a long time, Mr. Bates, I know what it looks like when someone decides they'll give over to the end." The woman bit her lip, "Just let her pass in peace."
"I wouldn't do anything else." John entered the room, immediately taking the seat next to the bed of the old woman connected to too many beeping machines. "Mum, it's John."
"Johnny?" Her eyes tried to blink open and her head turned on the pillow that almost swallowed her in its cloudy confines. "They said they'd call you but I don't trust phones."
"I know you don't Mum but I'm here and they got ahold of me." John covered his mother's hand with his, rubbing over the cold skin there. "I told them to heat up your room but your hands are still freezing."
"I've got poor circulation."
"You're room's too cold."
"I'm old, Johnny," The woman huffed at him, "This is what happens to old people. They get cold and then they die."
"You're not dying yet." John tried to laugh it off but it caught in his throat. "You're fine and you're just having a rough afternoon."
"Did you come here from work?"
"Of course. You were asking for me."
"I was?" She blinked and then made an 'o' with her mouth. "I needed to tell Johnny something."
"I'm right here Mum, what do you need to tell me."
"Don't bury me in that plot next to your father."
"What?"
"It's damp and I don't like that church. The paintings are horrible."
"It's the family plot Mum."
She blinked, "What's the family plot?"
"Where Dad's buried."
"I know what kind of plot it is but it's a horrible location."
John nodded, "I know, you just said."
"I've said it for years. Don't tell me you haven't been listening."
"I listened."
"Not when I told you not to marry that harpy."
John sighed, "I made a mistake then but the divorce finalizes in a couple days and it'll all be over."
"I'm going to die and that woman is still legally bound to me." His mother shut her eyes, grunting, "I'd rather be in hell. Don't let her come in here."
"She's banned from this place since you had a row with her two months ago." John frowned, "You don't remember throwing that vase at her head?"
"I would never throw something in public."
"You did."
"Then I didn't throw it hard enough." She paused, "I should've thrown something heavier."
"It doesn't matter now."
"What doesn't matter?" His mother's face scrunched in agitation and John leaned over the bed. "Johnny, I need to tell Johnny something before he tries to bury me in the churchyard."
"Mum, Mum, I'm here. What is it?"
"I want him to cremate me. Make sure he cremates me. I don't want to rot away in the ground." She was almost crying now, "I want to go back to Alberta."
"Alberta?" John's forehead lined in confusion, "Mum, you've never been to Alberta. You've never even been to Canada. You don't like planes."
"Make sure Johnny cremates me and spreads my ashes at Greener Pastures."
"What?"
"Johnny," Her grip tightened on his wrist and John made sure to look his mother in the eye. "Go to Greener Pastures and spread my ashes there. Make sure I spread to the wind there."
"I'll do it. Whatever you want consider it done."
"Good." She patted his hand, "You were always a good boy. So good to me."
"Of course Mum." He kissed her forehead, "I love you."
"And I love you, Johnny." She closed her eyes, breathing easier, "I love you so much. I just wish-"
"Wish what?" John stroked his mother's hand, "Wish what Mum?"
"I wish I could've shown you Greener Pastures. You would've loved it there."
"Loved it where?"
"Where the sky goes on forever." Her voice fell to a whisper and John strained to hear her. "A place away from everything. Heaven on earth."
"In Alberta?" John risked and his mother nodded.
"Alberta. I loved it almost as much as I loved you Johnny."
"I love you too Mum." John held his mother's hand, watching the slowing rise and fall of her chest. "I love you."
"I love you Johnny. Promise me you'll go there."
"Of course."
"Spread my ashes there. Spread my ashes in the place I loved most."
"I will Mum. Of course I will."
John held his mother's hand until it hung limp in his own and the drone of the flatline fell to background noise. The nurses came, moving him away from her as they checked all the vitals before disconnecting the machines. He could only stand there as the silence in the room fell under the blanket of experienced efficiency.
Someone rested a hand on his shoulder and John turned to see the same nurse from before. "Might I get you some tea, Mr. Bates?"
"That'd be lovely." John followed her to the canteen but only held the Styrofoam cup of sludge they called tea in his hand, swirling it a bit in his grasp for something to do.
The nurse cleared her throat, "You'll hear this over the next few days but I'm sorry for your loss. I liked your mother very much."
"Thank you, Nurse Crawley." John stared into the cup before meeting her eyes, "She liked you too. Said you had a quick wit and an acerbic tongue when you wanted."
"We all do."
"She liked people who spoke their minds and you never had a problem with it." John set the cup down, "How often did you talk with her?"
"Mostly on her rough nights. The ones where the pain was too much for her to sleep."
"Did she ever mention a place called 'Greener Pastures' in Alberta?"
"Canada?" John nodded and Nurse Crawley sipped her tea before shrugging, "Not that I remember, specifically. Why'd you ask?"
"She wants me to spread her ashes there."
"And you want to?"
"It was my mother's dying request to me. I wouldn't be a very good son if I didn't do it." John scratched the back of his neck, "I need to arrange for her to be cremated. I need to tell people. I need to-"
"Mr. Bates," Nurse Crawley interrupted his speeding thought train. "For the moment, as a nurse, I'd suggest you give yourself a minute to acknowledge that you've just experienced a loss."
John nodded, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He wiped at one tear but they flooded down and he buried his face in his hands. Weeping in the hospice canteen for the woman who loved him more than life itself and the request he did not know how to fulfill.
