She flipped the lighter and lit her third cigarette in a row. She smokes it until satisfied, stubbing the rest of it out on the curb. She stands up and brushes off the excess ash that landed on her fur coat. And the coffee tastes great, it revitalizes her senses, setting her up for the night ahead. It has been a struggle for Lacey, since the day her Mother was told that she had a terminal illness. That day changed everything, it impacted greatly on the family. Pushing them to the brink, to a scary edge. Lacey had it all in front of her. A career, a chance to shine. Now she’s looking after a woman that wants to die. That wants the angels to grant her a wish.
Lacey looks through the glass pane and sees her Mother lying on a comfortable bed, sipping water. She looks on with sadness and despair shuddering through her body. There’s no hope, there’s no clarity.
The tree behind the house is ready to cascade, it’s old and tarnished, and Lacey can remember it when it was thriving. She can remember when her Mother was thriving too, a strong woman with strong values. She had strength, she had morals, her aspirations endless. Lacey is still out in the cold. Bracing the chill. Her lips are blue, her hands frozen to the core. But she can’t bear to see her Mother like this anymore. And The cars fly by, lighting up a dull street. Lacey wishes she could drive off for a while, to see the world, to clear her head. But, she has a duty, a job to do. She enters the house and turns on the kitchen light. Her eyes instantly close, then open again. She places the fur coat over the door. The chill begins to ease. The bones in her petite body defrost.
She sits down and places her head on her hands. She lifts it and looks at the pictures on the fridge. There’s many snapshots of her Mother smiling, embracing life. There is one particular picture that wobbles the heart of Lacey. It’s a photograph of her with a healthy Mother and a noble Father.Those days are far gone now. Her Father died 8 years ago. The death left a hole. Her Mother can’t come to terms with the loss. She turned to alcohol, letting it rush through her veins. Drinking to excess, beating her mind, her liver soaking and crying for it to halt. But, she carried on, debating with her family, stroking the outskirts of death. And now she’s bed ridden. Silenced.
Lacey stands up and walks to the mirror. She sees a gaunt complexion. A face battling the motions, a body stricken and wasting away. She barely eats, she barely cares for herself. And it shows.
It could be any day now. Lacey will be stripped of a Mother. A kind soul, dried up and facing the end. And Lacey knows she’ll grieve, she knows that she’ll mourn the loss of her most cherished prize. Lacey takes the plunge and walks through to her Mother’s resting place. Filled with photographs and paintings. It’s a place of wonderment, a hub of colour. The beautiful vibrancy overwhelms the greyness of her Mother’s face.
‘Hi, Mum.’
‘Hi, sweetheart.’
‘How are you holding up?’
‘They’ve not came yet, my hearts still beating, the birds are still singing, so I’m doing okay.’
The machine is loud. The breathing machine.
‘It makes such a racket,’
‘I wish I could turn it down, Mum.’
‘It’s okay, you do enough.’
‘Do you want me to read to you again?’
‘What, the story of courage? I think I have enough stored up in my body. I might sound weak, I might cough too much, blood might spurt from my mouth, but I have more courage than any dying person.’
‘I’m so sorry, Mum.’
‘What have you to be sorry about? It’s not your fault. You’ve done your duty. You’ve aided me through this struggle, you patched me up, you kissed goodness into my soul. Don’t let my death hurt you. Go on and thrive and become a person of integrity.’
‘But…’
‘Please, Lacey, don’t worry. I’ve had a wonderful life, I’ve travelled the world, I’ve experienced so much. Your Father is waiting on my call. He’ll be so proud. His eyes will be lit up.’
Lacey places her head on her Mother. She begins to weep. The rain hits off of the windows.
‘Don’t cry, sweetheart.’
Lacey stays with her Mother until the light turns off in her heart. Until the last breath is exhaled.
The scene is full of despair. The sadness is overpowering.
Death has come.
Lacey looks out at the window and looks at the swinging seats, picturing her Mother and Father sitting there. Expressing themselves.
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