A/N: Thanks to you all for your interest.
Three
April 2007
I tore up my apartment looking for the twenty dollar bill I knew I had, wasn't in the mood to walk the three blocks uptown to the ATM and then six blocks downtown for my medication. Yes I found a name for it, to appease myself.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror and stared at the strange man looking back at me. I had it in my mind to smash the mirror with my fist but the powers that be, stopped me. After a search of the kitchen, my bedroom and the bathroom. Why a twenty-dollar bill would be in there? Is anyone's guess, once found the remote in the refrigerator. I began to search my desk.
The photo fell off the desk, face up on the floor, almost as if it was calling to me. I picked it up and stared at it for a long time, I looked healthy and strong and she had a silly but oh so cute smile on her face as she held her nephew in her arms. It took a moment for me to recall when and where the photo was taken and then it hit me, Matthew's 1st birthday party.
I continued to stare at the photo; I could see the love she had for that boy by the glow on her face. His smile was a mile wide and so was mine. I didn't plan it, but as her brother pointed the camera at us, I placed my arm around her shoulder, it seemed the natural thing to do.
"I wish I could trade places with you or invent a way to go back in time, that bullet should have hit me not you. You have placed a huge hole in everyone's heart, even mine." I sat in the chair that is next to the desk. "It's been over a year and people are still grieving for you. Who the hell would grieve for me? No one." A tear fell onto the photo; I wiped it off with my finger. I rubbed my eyes as I sat back in the chair. Were the tears for my own loneliness? Loneliness that I created or for the people who missed her, including me?
Though the rest of my apartment was in shambles I positioned the photo upright on the desk. As I stood up, I saw it, the bill that I had been searching for, out of the corner of my eye.
May 2007
No matter how many times my mother has overturned things in my life, she is still my Mom and I love her. She may have worried more, throughout the years, about Frank but I know in my heart that she has always loved me just as much as she does him.
My weekly visits to my Mom have dwindled; it has been close to three weeks since my last visit. She is currently going for treatment on an out patient basis but she continues to live where she has resided for the past ten years, Carmel Ridge.
Even in my fucked up state I am still the one that the doctors call to discuss her care. They spoke to Frank once, after I bellowed at them over the phone to call him. He panicked and call me the same day. Whinnying and almost crying that he was afraid that if he made the wrong decision it would prove fatal to her. I listened to him whine for about five minutes. I calmed him down and told him that I would take care of it, like I have, since I was a kid.
I wonder sometimes as I stare at her sleeping, does she appreciate it or is it just expected of me?
I know that the day she leaves this world, I will be the one holding her hand. Who will hold my hand when I die?
Carmel Ridge, I could drive there with my eyes closed and they way I was feeling now, I might have to. I had to time my departure from the city to a tee, an hour drive to get there, visit for an hour or so and then drive back. Three hours out of my life, I could do it. My own drug-induced ego told me that I looked fine. Fine? Not even close, strangers and acquaintances I could fool, but my Mom? I doubted it, but there was always a chance, I had hope.
When I came upon her door I knocked softly, she heard me and answered, "Come in, it's open."
I complied and opened the door slowly; she turned immediately to see who her visitor was. She looked very tiny standing in the middle of room, donning a floral and flowing silk bathrobe. My Mom wear a cotton bathrobe? Never. Her feet covered with slippers much like ones worn by ballerinas. I was surprised to see her up and about, most times in the last few months she is in or on the bed. Today she seems full of life, one part of me is elated that she seems to be feeling better but the other part of me is a bit apprehensive that she will be as she has been, in the past, very aware of her surroundings. Me, being part of her surroundings.
"Bobby." She said my name sternly and quickly.
I took a step back, much like a child who knew he did something wrong and was surprised as hell that his mother found out about it.
"Hi Mom," I said with as much excitement as I could.
"Never mind that," she walked closer to me and I stood still. She reached up and grabbed my chin, "What have you been doing?"
"What? Doing?" I turned my head away.
She tapped my face lightly, not in anger but to capture my attention, "Look at you, I have cancer and I look better then you."
"I'm just having a rough time, that's all." She knew what I had been through. "My career might be....It's just been a tough few months. I'm good, really I am." I nodded my head hoping to convince myself, would she buy it? I doubted it, but hoped just the same.
"Bull shit!" She exclaimed.
She didn't buy it, I raised my eyebrows, trying to fake surprise, "What bull shit?" Lie to her. I said to myself. It was still a hard thing for me to do. I couldn't look her in the eye, I took a few steps and sat in one of the two chairs in the room. "I'll get myself together, don't worry." Get myself together? My life is shattered and split into too many pieces.
I could hear her walking closer, I felt her hand on the top of my head, "You're a strong, self sufficient boy," she said softly but firmly. She sat in the chair that was next to mine. "I know you will, you always do." She patted my leg, her way of letting me know that this particular conversion was over. I could only nod my head.
"Your brother has been to visit, twice in as many months." She said with elation.
The smirk on my face went unnoticed by her, so that's where the money came from, man he hasn't changed, he hasn't gotten his life together, why should I? I wanted to say it aloud but it was futile, she wouldn't want to hear.
We spent a good portion of an hour talking, much like we always do. If she was aware of the drug that I needed and craved day in and day out, she never said. However, she is an intelligent woman and very well read, she knew, maybe not specifically, what I was taking, but she was aware that I was not behaving, as I should. However, she has confidence in me that I would be able to get myself out of this. I was always the responsible one. The younger son, yes, but I could always think for myself. I never followed the crowd. I was the one, who got his first job at fifteen, working for a landscaper. And have had employment of one kind or another since. I always took a great deal of pride in my work and myself….till now. I hated myself for what I had become, but I am a big believer in destiny and if this is what life has handed me, so be it.
Get myself out of this? A small voice in the back of mind told me, not this time Bobby.
I timed my day so that I wouldn't need a fix until I returned to the city, I couldn't and wouldn't wait, I needed it now, alone in the darkness of the parking lot.
….More to come….
….Soon….
