THREE

David pulled into the driveway of our Tudor-style home. The house was dark, all but for one room. It was the room where Clara, our housekeeper, lived. She would have to be the first person they told. She didn’t look shocked and said only, “May God bless you all.”

When she retreated back to her room, I followed her and noticed she took up her knitting as if nothing had happened. Suddenly, she stood up and rushed to the kitchen. She grabbed the large salt shaker from the cupboard and scurried back to her room with it. She poured a line of salt around the perimeter of her room and as she did this, I found I could no longer remain there to observe her. The salt had cast some repellent power over me.

I found David, Nana and May in the living room. They were seated together, arms wrapped around each other discussing, through their tears, who they should call and then the phone rang. David slowly reached across the side table and picked up the receiver. It was my mother.

“David I am so happy I caught you, is Emily there I have to tell her who I ran into today.”

David muffled the receiver and he began to sob.

“David? David! What’s happened?” My mother demanded with apprehension.

Nana Nettle took the phone from David’s hands as he curled into May.

“Maureen,” Nana’s voice trembled, “there’s been a terrible accident ,dear, and I need you to sit down.”

“No!” My mother stated “No, don’t you dare tell me anything has happened to my daughter, don’t you dare!”

“Maureen…” Nana paused for a very long time as my mother started to cry.

“What has happened?” my mother shrieked.

“She went for a swim,” Nana said softly, “She went for a swim and…”

“Where is my daughter?” demanded my mother.

“I can’t say the words, Maureen.” Nana admitted.

“Are you telling me she is gone? That she… that she… is…” My mother couldn’t finish her sentence.

“Yes,” said Nana “I am so sorry.”

~

Just as I was thinking of the pain my mother must be feeling I found myself in her kitchen, facing the horror on her face. I didn’t call my mother before I went to the beach. I thought she might say ‘just the right thing’ to me, as she always had, which would have made me delay my plan. I had not left a note because I wanted it to look like an accident. But now, I wished I had communicated something to let them all know how much I loved them; I felt powerless to let them know now.

As I watched my mother discuss where my body was located and how she would inform my friends and her side of the family the dark beings drew in from the corners of the room encircling her as she hung up the phone. Their yawning and twisted faces were horrible and their bodies distorted, just as before. They fed off all of my mother’s anguish and then they encircled me again to absorb my pain and sadness. They were like parasites surviving on the suffering of others. I called them sorrow suckers.

My mother reached up to her book selection in the kitchen and pulled down her favorite books of poems. As soon as she did this the parasites hastened away. Mother fingered the pages looking for the right poem to help ease her pain.

I watched my mother close the book of poems and lay her hand on top of the volume as her other hand cupped her head. She was alone and she wept for hours. I tried to get close enough to comfort her but a force held me away at an arms length. It was as if I were not allowed to comfort her, nor was I allowed to get close enough to her bosom to find respite from my own circumstances.

I stayed with my mother for the night. The thought of watching David and Nana tuck May in on this first night without her mother was something I hadn’t the strength to endure. Mother sat down in her den with her address book and started making a list of who to call in the morning. My aunts and uncles, cousins, friends from high school, my best friend and her family, the girls from our crafting circle, all of them had to be contacted.

I was starting to grasp the impact my life had on others. Even if in different ways, each one of these people would be affected by my death. The calls David would have to make would be a longer list of work colleagues, our shared friends, his aunts and uncles, his cousins, our social clubs, people associated with our charity work. Yet more people my life had touched in even the smallest of ways.

It was horrible to think of all the calls which needed to be made and how many times my loved ones would have to say, “I am sorry to tell you she has passed away.” What kind of person was I to do this to them? How could I have done this? What the hell was I thinking? I wanted to go back! I became very distressed and started drifting about my mothers den. I began to shoot back and forth like a ricochet bullet. I began moving faster and more uncontrollably as my distress increased with each thought of wanting to go back to my life. I moved so forcefully I knocked over my mothers lamp and frightened her half to death. The lamp broke into pieces and her den went dark. As she stood up to turn on the main light she said, “Emily? Is that you?” after which she scolded herself for being silly. She left the lamp in shambles and went upstairs to bed with a box of Kleenex and her book of poetry…