Silence Hung In the Air...
Ashley Blaine's mother was on her back in her bed with her eyes closed. There was an empty bottle of Jack Daniels next to several empty bottles of prescription pills. She had taken a cocktail of pills and washed it down with the Jack Daniels. Her love, her life, her child had been killed and she just couldn't take the pain. It assaulted her every day when she thought of her baby being butchered by an animal.
She started the evening off by cooking a nice dinner for Ash. She made her favorite dishes and she sat across from were her daughter would sit. In her mind she saw her there stuffing her face and making crazy eyes at her. Ash was such a clown and that's what made her so special.
When the last of the dishes were put up, and the floor swept, she trudged up the stairs toward the locked bedroom. She had to see her daughter's bedroom one more time before it was all over. She put the key in slowly and hesitated before she opened the door. She walked over to the bed and saw Ashley's favorite nighty balled near the foot of the bed. She lifted it to her nose and inhaled the scent of her daughter, and it immediately brought tears to her eyes. She remembered Ash hemming and hawing about not being able to buy that nighty because her mother thought it was too grown-up, but in the end her mother bought it.
Ashley's mother wondered what it would feel like to be with her daughter. The soil was warm enough for another grave, and she would have them place her coffin next to her pride and joy. Living a life without her only child was a sober slap in the face. It was a cold reality that she wanted no part of.
She couldn't understand why her friends would tell her that everything was going to be okay. She knew it doesn't always work that way. She felt like the loneliest person in the world. No matter how many people were around, she still felt all alone, and that was never going to change.
She remembered when Ash was five, she would get up on her toes so her mother wouldn't bend down so much and then kiss her cheek, laying her small hand on her other cheek. She would stare into her mother's eyes with such gratitude, it melted her heart. And other times she would make her mother bend way down and she would kiss her on both cheeks, several times, making exaggerated smacking noises. She would then laugh loudly while holding on to her mother, hating the thought of letting her go. Large, liquid blue eyes staring up at her with a phenomenal smile.
“I love you mom,” she would say in one long breath.
Her mind had her spinning and the loss had such a grip on her. Being a mother who had lost her only child was ugly and terrifying. There wasn't anything to live for. The memories of her child wasn't helping. It was actually making her heart crash and burn.
She folded her daughter's nighty and placed it in the center of the bed. She turned around slowly and walked out of the room. She closed the door and locked it leaving the key in the keyhole. Silence hung in the air for a moment. She felt something pulling her heart as she moved slowly toward her bedroom.
“Goodnight mommy!” her daughter shouted from behind closed doors.
“Goodnight sweetie,” she just whispered.
There was the image of her daughter moving slowly toward her. She looked up at her, saw a sweet, docile face, the face of a devoted mother. There was the fear of death in her eyes, but it wasn't going to stop her from taking her life. She couldn't believe that her mother, a helpful, tender woman was willing to take her own life. Reality would be deprived if she killed herself.
“Mommy, no,” she frowned.
She turned away from her daughter and walked into her bedroom. She poured the last of the Jack Daniels into a glass and popped the last of the pills into her mouth. She washed the rough swallow back with the whiskey and got as comfortable as she could in bed.
The sweet dreams of her daughter sprayed through the room like mist. She found herself laughing, shouting, and trying to get her daughter to stop being such a monkey. She would rush to her daughter and she took her into her arms, silent tears running down her cheeks. She would brush the curly hair back from her daughter's brow and she would look into her eyes.
“I love you mommy.”
With her facial expression weak and her cheeks wet she would say,”I love you too sweetie.”
The whiskey helped as the darkness consumed her, and death took control.
© 2015 Frank Atanacio