“Mapleshade or Jayfeather?”, I asked my nine year old daughter,
Ellis.
“What? Mom, why?” Even through the phone I could hear her
rolling her eyes at my attempt to give a shit about her latest book series
obsession.
“Well, I thought about ordering you a cake for your birthday
with one of your favorite Warrior Cats. Would that be lame?”, I asked in a tone
that told her hormones that I came in peace.
“No! Moooooom, I would love it! Just make SURE it is
Mapleshade”.
“Mapleshade? Are you sure? Ugh, every picture I found of him
he looks like an angry man-cat. Like a cat who writes his mayor every day to
complain about the weather or his gas mileage.” I was already distracted and had her on speakerphone while I scrolled through my phone.
“Mom. Mapleshade is a GIRL. Just because she looks like a
boy doesn’t mean you should assume genders. Even with cats, it’s really not
okay.” Ellis’s voice proudly smirked at me as we said our goodbyes and hung up.
I laughed and immediately thought of Matthew, my older
brother by less than a year, who is the wokest person I know. I speedily typed
into my phone to him: “Ellis just told
me not to assume genders, even of cats. Your nine year old niece is more woke
than both of us. I bet you didn’t think the movement involved cats.”
I threw my phone down
and grabbed Collins, Ellis’s 5 year old sister, to take her to bed. She was
going to get an extra-long bedtime tonight, because Adrian, her 15 year old
brother, and Ellis were visiting Grandparents in Oklahoma. Since my husband,
Mat, was also out of state working, it was just the two of us tonight and that
was very rare. With three kids, I normally stumble through the bedtime nagging of
the older two to do various hygiene stuff before bed. By the time that fighting
is done, Collins just getting out of bed to ask for an extra hug can be my
breaking point. But that night, I took my time. I let her tell me stories from her
preschool day that were excruciatingly banal. I got my guitar and sang her a
few Beatles songs. She really likes “Blackbird”
because a movie she watches has a little boy and his mom who call it their
extra special song.
“Yeah! The extra special song!”
She went to bed happy and I closed her door tight. I called Ruthie,
my wheaten terrier, to come with me as I settled into my huge bed. I texted my
Dad to ask about our Game of Thrones fantasy league. I read some recaps about
the first episode, scrolled through social media, ate a few oreos, and finally
took my sleeping medicine. As I was drifting off to sleep, I grabbed my phone
one more time.
“Matthew didn’t text me back, that’s weird”, I hazily
thought as my eyes got heavier.
“Mommy. Mommy.”, I felt an annoyingly gentle brush of a hand
against my upper arm.
“Collins nooooooooo”, I groaned.
Collins had gotten into the habit of getting a hug from Mat
in the middle of the night every night. For me, when he was gone, it was like my
sleep’s death sentence. With my chronic insomnia, getting woken up in the
middle of the night meant I would not be able to go back to sleep and would
have to go ahead and start my day.
I tried to resist, I kept my eyes closed and half-patted her,
forcing my voice to be kind and something resembling motherly.
But, as most mothers will know, that wouldn’t do. I had to carry
her back to bed.
“Can you sing me the extra special song?” She asked as my
eyes became way too clear and wide to have a chance at going back to sleep.
“No!”, I told the adorable little demon who shared my face. “Stay
in bed!”
I rushed back to my bedroom, trying not to look at the clock
in the dining room or the stove. Sometimes, if it’s early enough in the night
and I don’t look at the clock, I can manage to calm my mind enough to go back
to sleep.
I snuggled deep under my covers, humming Blackbird. I put a
pillow over my face. Take these broken wings and learn to fly, I pulled Ruthie into my chest All your life I grabbed a chunk of
blankets and hugged them against my stomach. Blaaaaackbird flyyyyy I wanted to cry, I was so sleepy and was
worried about another sleepless night.
I grabbed my phone to look at the time. It was 2AM. I could
still get 5 hours of sleep.
2 MISSED CALLS, DAD
I put my phone back down, facedown
and shook my head at my parents. They were night owls, and since they knew I had
insomnia they would sometimes call late, just in case I was up. The whole
Flowers family were late nighters!
“Why, 2 calls, though?” a voice
hit me as I tried to clear my mind for restfulness.
Curious, I picked up my phone
again and looked at the time of the calls. Both had been after midnight. Dad
would never try to call me twice after midnight unless something was wrong. I
checked my texts and there were none. I started to text him to ask if everything
was okay but couldn’t bring myself to. I KNEW something was wrong. And I KNEW
it had to be about my mother.
Mom had been having issues with
her kidney function for the better part of a year. With only guesses as to why,
she had been making some big lifestyle changes that mostly included drinking a
lot more water and stopping certain medications. I had seen her the weekend
before, when they had met me in Austin while I was there working. She seemed perkier,
but still weak and not herself. She had texted me a picture a few days before
that she was now suffering from Bells Pallsy and half her face was weak. I had
been busy with work and called quickly to check on her but she seemed to be
almost amused by it so I hadn’t worried. Maybe not as much as I should have.
Was I ready to make this phone
call?
I shifted between lying down and
sitting up. What’s the best way to position your body when you’re about to get
bad news? I didn’t know. I had never had any life-altering news before. I had never
lost anyone close to me. I’d lost Grandparents that I loved, acquaintances that
made me sad, and a dog who I had grown up with. Those were the moments I went back to when I
tried to figure out how to handle this.
I dialed my dad’s number back.
“Maybe he won’t answer” the voice
said. “Maybe he went back to sleep because it was nothing.”
“Hi Marigold” Dad’s voice broke
through the line, comforting me.
He’s fine! He sounds good. I
breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed back into my pillow.
“Hi Dad, what’s up?” I said,
trying to hide my irritation of the unnecessary scare.
“I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No, you didn’t. Collins did. What’s
up?” I pressed him.
His voice cracked. I wish there
was another word for cracked. His voice broke into a million little pieces that
I immediately wanted to pick up for him but he would never let me because he
was the leader of the family and always made my comfort a priority.
“This is the- the worst day of my
life.” He stifled a sob and I sat up, somber.
I heard my sister sobbing in the
background. I let him cry for 2 seconds and then made myself say it.
“DID MOM DIE” I shouted, not even
a question, more of a demand for him to say the words I knew were true.
“IS SHE DEAD, DAD!”
Dad swallowed and choked down his
tears and said something that began with “Your brother was found in Yosemite
National Park…”
The shock, the hysteria, maybe the sleeping meds took over and all I can now remember are bits and pieces of the rest
of the night.
I was hit with the sudden
realization that my mother was alive, I could also hear her weeping in the
background. I was dowsed with a feeling that in any other world would look like
relief. My Mom was fine. My world should be okay.
I then brought myself back to the
moment and tried to comprehend what my Dad was saying, but it sounded too medical
to match our emotions.
“Dad! Dead? Is Matthew dead?!” I
said
“Your brother is dead, Marigold, I’m
so sorry. This is the hardest phone call I’ve ever had to make in my life.” He cried.
I didn’t cry.
I asked more questions. How did he
fall. How did they know it was an accident. How did he and
Mom find out.
MATTHEW.
MATTHEW.
I screamed
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
I wailed in an animal voice I
could never mimic.
I didn’t cry.
My dad told me as much as he
could. I don’t remember if I talked to my mom or not and my mom doesn’t
remember if she said anything, but she was on speakerphone and remembers my voice.
I told him I wanted to get off the
phone. He made me promise to call my husband. He had already called Mat and
told him the news and Mat would be expecting a call from me. They were worried
about me. I was alone.
I called Mat, even though I didn’t
want to, and I don’t remember anything about that call. Mat said all I did was
scream and wail for 20 minutes. He tried to get me to talk about some logistics,
should he come home to Charlotte or to Oklahoma, what should we do with the
dogs, how would Collins be taken care of, etc. I don’t believe I was able to speak and
we eventually hung up.
I yelled and moaned and let myself actually
cry. Harder than I ever have before. I heaved and cried and screamed and
punched and said out loud, “I cannot get through this, I will not get through
this, I FUCKING REFUSE”. I was physically hurting: my chest unable to expand,
my temples pulsating, all my joints aching, my heart feeling as though it was
going to explode out of my throat with fire.
And then I fell asleep.
