After Hours

I had spent all afternoon emptying my dead mother's apartment. Removing every cup, and plate from the cupboards. Rolling up every dusty rug. Removing every crucifix that occupied these walls. My mother and I had a falling out a couple years ago, and hadn't spoken to each other much since. Same story as any kid with an overbearing, unbearable mother. I hadn't cried yet, and I don't think I would anytime soon. Not sure how long a death of a parent is supposed to take to really sink in. Some feel the grief immediately, and fall hysterically to the ground, unable to speak or think. Then there are those like me, and I feel like there are a lot of people like me these days. People like me that just can't feel or maybe refuse to feel. I've never been quite sure what it was exactly. Right now all I care about doing is cleaning up her shit and getting out here.

Today was one of those days that just come and go. The moon was out, and I had spent my entire day cleaning this windowless, timeless vortex of a place. I'd have to spend the night in the nearly empty apartment of my dead mother. This should go real well.

A thunderstorm. Wind. Leaves blowing in that wind. Rain. Through all that, I slept. What ended up waking me though wasn't the category 5 raging outside these obesely opaque windows, it was the sound of terrible, lung-retching coughing. I stood up from the makeshift bed of old pillows and blankets I made on the floor of my old bedroom, and made my way down the hall. It didn't take long to notice a light coming from the kitchen. I walked slowly along the walls, and tried my best to avoid the most outspoken parts of this flooring. When I reached the threshold to the kitchen I held my breath. I slowly peaked my head around the corner to see absolutely no one in the room. I let out a sigh, walked into kitchen and shut the light.

"Do you mind?"

I fell to the floor, and began sprawling backwards on my heels and palms. I felt cold, but sweat was beading down my forehead and back. My heart riveting my chest, and adrenaline rushing through my ears.

"Do you mind?" the voice shouted.

I knew who it was, "Mom?"

"Of course it's mom, who the hell else would it be?" she cackled. She turned back on the light, and there before me stood the seemingly rotting corpse of my recently deceased mother. She stood there, coffee and newspaper in hand in the nightgown she wore constantly since I was eight.

"Get up! You look like a dope all curled up in the corner like that. Why don't you sit down? I just made some coffee," she said pulling up her chair and lighting a smoke.

Oh, Mother

She's here. She's alive. How? "I just am!" she yelled. "But how? You can't just go from dead to living just like that," I shouted. Mother took a drag from her cigarette, "why not?" She seemed tickled by my confusion. She got up from her chair, and walked over to the sink and switched on the faucet. "You hungry?" she asked. "Hungry? No, not hungry. I'm just wondering if I died in my sleep. Maybe one of your roaches crawled up into by brain, and lit it on fire." She laughed, "No, you're not dead. I'm not either. Sit back down." I took a seat, and held my head in my hands. A knock at the door. "Oh god, who can that be? Is it grandma? Oh god, I hope it's not grandma. She's gonna want to give me a kiss, and I don't want a kiss from my dead grandmother." She waved at me to lower my voice, and headed to the door. 

"Nobody lives here. What do you want?" Mother yelled.

"Um, someone told me I could find...um...Mother...here?" a voice replied.

"Who told you that?" she replied.

"Um, the man at the front door. He told me that."

"What man...oh, I see, I see. Come on in." 

Mother took the chains off the door, and unlocked it. Outside the door stood a young girl. Maybe no older than eight. She had black, curly hair, and a dark complexion. She worse dirt-stained denim overalls, and Converse that were way too big for her feet. One of her front teeth were missing. "What brings you to my door?" Mother asked. The girl looked down at her torn old shoes, and quietly said, "I died." I felt an ache in my heart, and my stomach soured. Mother frowned and sighed, "that's okay, sweetie. Everyone dies. It's all right." Mother gave the girl a hug, and brushed her hair with her hand. "Hey, what's your name? You hungry? We were just about to eat." The little girl wiped her eyes, "My name's Natasha. I had some cereal before, but I'm really hungry now." Mother put her hand on Natasha's should and asked, "Well, what do you want? I have it all." Mother walked over to the fridge, and opened it. I, never in my whole entire life, had ever seen that fridge so full of stuff. It had everything! Lettuce, mustard, ice cream, eggs, cheese, string cheese, block cheese, wheel cheese, and a variety of other cheeses. "Can I have a peanut butter, and jelly sandwich?" Natasha asked. "Of course, sweetie. Take a seat. Oh, that's my son. He's not dead yet so he's a little upset right now." Natasha pulled up a seat next to me, and patted my hand, "it's not so bad." 

After lunch we all headed into the TV room for an after-death siesta. Mother passed out as soon as she hit the couch. Not even death could conceal the sound of her snores. Natasha sat on the floor putting together what seemed to be a puzzle of a unicorn with her riding on the back. "Where did you get this?" I asked. Natasha, not breaking concentration from her puzzle at all, "I thought of it!" 

"What do you mean 'you thought of it'?" I asked.

"I don't know. I wanted to do a puzzle of a unicorn, and I found this in the closet," she replied.

A flash of light, and sound suddenly burst from behind me. I turned to find the largest television screen I've ever seen in my life behind me. The room was no longer a wood paneled, smoke stained, drab mess, but pristine with cream colored walls, and white trim. There were trophies, and portraits on mantles, a wooding rocking horse in the corner, and again, the largest television screen I've ever seen. 

"How! What! How" I said startled.

Natasha was now very much concentrated on the silly cartoon dog onscreen. I looked around, and noticed the room was moving. Things were appearing, and disappearing. People in frames were being replaced by other people in the blink of an eye. The floor went from hardwood to shag carpeting to area rug to concrete and back. I looked over to Mother. She was young. She didn't look like a woman on Death's door. She looked healthy, and vibrant. I shook her leg. "Mother! Wake up!" She snorted awake, "hello, my love. What's wrong?" It was mom like she used to be. Before dad died. Before everything went to hell. I looked down at my hands. They were familiar, but small. My hair short. My face smooth. "You don't look so good, sweetie. Why don't you go lay down." I got up, and headed to my bedroom. It was exactly the same. I began feeling faint so I got under the sheets, and quickly fell asleep.

(To be continued)