Why ?

by Jera

Tears

The door to her room slammed for the second time in less then an hour. She’s pissed off at me again and I really can’t say I’m all that happy with her at the moment. She’s got a lot of damn nerve saying the things she did. Can you believe it. Me controlling - if she only knew. If anyone’s controlling it’s her. She always has to have her way but when we fight she never hesitates to throw it up in my face that I like to have my way. That I’m controlling, miss perfect she calls me - God, she really can get under my skin! She should look in the mirror sometimes, see who it is that’s really talking. Maybe that would shut her mouth for a moment - I sure can’t get her to stop once she starts. When that mouth of hers gets going nothing can stop it. She goes on and on and then tells me she never gets a word in edgewise. Does she even listen to herself let alone ever think about the things she’s saying. She gets me so upset I just can’t tell you it makes me feel.

Oh shit, she’s crying now. I hate it when she does that. She knows I can hear her, I know she does that on purpose just to make me feel bad. It’s not fair, she never plays fair. Same old stuff - same old crap. We argue, over nothing important, then she says something and of course I come right back and we’re off. Words coming faster and faster, emotions boiling, faces getting redder and hands waving around. God we must be a sight. I’m so glad that we usually save the fireworks for when we’re alone at least most of the time. I remember that time at the Safeway, she threw the stupid Graham Crackers into the basket and stormed out of the store before I could say a word, well that’s not exactly true. I did say a word, probably too many words. Can you believe we had a fight over which Graham Crackers to buy? I can’t. Should have bought both the Honey and Cinnamon. No, now that I think about it she picked up the house brand and I said that they tasted like cardboard. Really they don’t but I said they did and we were at it. She just walked out and left me standing there with our groceries. Yeah, me just standing there looking stupid. People were staring at me but I just acted like it was nothing and went on shopping. I just assumed she was outside in the car. But she wasn’t. I looked everywhere and then finally drove home. She was walking - we don’t live far from the Safeway. She turned her head when I slowed down. So I just went home. She got there about 20 minutes later, still in a huff, and not talking to me. By then I had calmed down and was feeling foolish but it took the rest of the day and several apologies for things to get back to normal.

She’s still crying. She knows how much that upsets me. I absolutely hate it - I feel like such a bitch when she does that. If anyone else made her cry like that I’d be all over them but here I sit listening to her and wishing I’d just kept my mouth shut. You know, I remember the time she caught me crying - and that‘s something I just don’t do. But my mother and I had just been at it on the phone and I was so frustrated and upset that I couldn‘t help it. She looked like she’d been hit between the eyes. I’ve never seen a more shocked expression in my life. It’s like she doesn’t think I’ve got feelings or something. No, she knows I’ve got feelings she just thinks I’m thick skinned and don’t show emotion so it doesn’t count. She really doesn’t mean to hurt me, I know that. And I really don’t try to upset her. God knows I try not to but around her - well, it’s next to impossible. At least that’s how it seems.

She’ll eventually come out of her room. She’ll act like nothing happened, maybe even start up a conversation or something. If I’m stupid enough to say anything about what happened earlier it will start the whole thing over again - and worse then last time. At least I’ve learned to play along with her when she decides it’s over. And when it’s over believe me the last thing I want to do is to go for a rewind and then a replay. No moral victory to be had there. Just uncomfortable hours and hurt feelings.

She isn’t always wrong but then again neither am I. If I didn’t care about her so much it wouldn’t be worth the trouble and it sure wouldn’t hurt as much. Funny, I’ve heard her say more or less the same thing herself. A friend once told us that we fight like a couple of sisters and in a way she was right. No matter how much we squabble or how dramatic we are we both know deep down inside that we will weather the storm and continue together. Funny, we’ve been at it almost three years now. I just wish it was possible to skip this part. Oh God, why we do this?

Guess what - we all do this. People who love each other do this. It’s part of the human condition and the relationships that stand the test of time are the one in which the people involved realize that there will be "those times" and accept them as part of the package. If you don’t want conflict - live alone. If you’re lonely get a pet. But if you are up for the bumpy ride that love can hold, go ahead and jump into it. Just don’t sweat the small stuff and life will take care of itself.

Smiles

The woman lay in the hospital bed staring blankly upward at the ceiling. The nurse had brought the meds and watched her swallow them. She took her blood pressure, checked the IV, and lifted the sheet slightly to adjust the pillow under her legs and check her urine output. The catheter was something new. She hated it at first but now - well now it didn’t seem to matter. The nurse was not one she had seen before. Someone new. Maybe she should say something. You know, try to get to know her. Why bother, the way things were around here she’d be gone soon and some other agency nurse would be in her place. It just didn’t matter. The nurse picked up the can of Insure - she paused for a moment and then shook it. The woman heard the contents slosh in the can. It was warm now. Warm, unappetizing, and only served to remind her that she was ill, very ill. She knew what was coming next.

"You’ve hardly touched this."

The woman heard the nurse talking and knew she had to say something. She should say something but it all seemed so futile. She struggled to sit up. Her lips felt parched and her throat was dry.

"I’m just not hungry."

Her voice sounded strange. Weak, hollow, almost distant. But she told the truth - she wasn’t hungry. Not for the soft diet they had started her on, not for any of the pudding or Jello snacks the food service people brought, and certainly not for the graham cracker flavored Insure or what ever it really was that they had begun bringing to her on Sunday. Three days now. Didn’t it come in another flavor? She had read on the label that it was for renal diets. Her kidneys were in the process of shutting down. She knew it and the little white and orange cans that arrived at every meal only served to make her more painfully aware that she wasn’t going home anytime soon. Oh sure, when she first arrived on floor she had felt certain that it would only be a matter of days and she’d be home - just like the other times. But this time was different.

"You’ve got do better. I’ll put this over some ice for you."

The nurse went about her task and in moments placed a cup of ice in front of her and carefully poured that dreadful tan liquid until the cup was full. Never spilled a drop. She popped a flex straw into the cup and held it out for her to take. The woman took the cup and nodded. She sipped the liquid while the nurse watched. The nurse seemed satisfied and left. Once she was gone the woman returned the cup to its place on the bedside table. She licked her lips but her tongue felt strange. The oily sweet liquid clung to her lips and for a moment her stomach recoiled at the taste and the feel of it. She sipped some cool water and her stomach settled.

The room was quiet. Several times someone had been in the room and turned the television on but she had turned it off each time. The door was almost completely closed and only the faintest sounds crept through the opening. She thought she heard voices. Oh yes, shift change. The nurses were talking in the nurses station. Her room was right across the hall from the back entrance to the station. Right behind the station was the little kitchen. There was a refrigerator, an ice machine, and some cabinets. They kept the snacks in there. Other things too. The nurses made coffee, she could smell it sometimes. She had always loved coffee but she couldn’t have caffeine now and she really didn’t want it anyway. But there were times when she woke up and smelled the coffee and for a moment she thought she was back home. Her husband was in the kitchen fixing breakfast. She could smell the coffee. It smelled so good and she wanted some so badly. He made the best coffee, strong, but not bitter. Great coffee. Just wake up and go get some. Then she’d remember where she was. Her dream world would crash sadly in to a pile of broken memories and shattered hopes. No her husband wasn’t fixing coffee. And coffee hadn’t really tasted that good to her in a long while - not since he had died four years ago. Sure she still drank it. Part of the morning ritual - some things never change. But that part of her life was over. The doctor had seen to that. They had sent up some coffee substitute, horrible stuff, but it didn’t matter any more. Nothing mattered any more.

How long had she been sleeping. Oh yes, the nurse had been back in again and the young woman who had drawn her blood. She looked sadly at the bruises on both her arms and shook her head. That’s two hours at least she thought. Oh no, that sound. Food carts. Oh yes, here it comes.

A young man placed her now familiar and yet dreaded meal time companion on the tray in front of her. Before she could speak he was gone. She stared at the can. He had opened it. She sipped the liquid. Same flavor, same oily feel, same smell. Not for me she thought and put the can down. Her eyes felt heavy. They always felt heavy.

Sleeping again. The food service worker awakened her.

"You finished?" He asked.

She nodded.

Darkness returned before the man had even closed the door. No dreams, no awareness of time, no hunger, no pain, and no fear. Then there was a light. A dim light. Like afternoon sunlight filtering through shear white curtains. She liked the way it looked, soft, not harsh like the lamp above the bed. She hated that thing. They always turned that thing on when the Doctor examined her. This light was comforting, gentle. And the voice was gentle as well. So familiar. There was a face. A beautiful face.

"Hi Mom, I’m here now."

She looked up into her daughter’s eyes. She saw her little girl smile at her and felt her take her hand into hers. For the first time that day she smiled and was glad to be alive.

Mothers and daughters. We go through so much together and no matter how strained the bond between us might seem at times it’s always there. That’s why it hurts so much when there is a breach - when words separate and wound us. But in the end don’t be surprised if its not the one relationship that means the most to us - even the most hard headed of us.

Hugs

The train is late. No it’s not - I’m just impatient. Why does she take the train anyway. She always takes the train. It adds a day and a half to the trip. She could have been here in a couple of hours if she had flown. It’s not always about the money. Sometime it’s about the time and right now time seems to be moving slower then molasses. At least there are some other people here. I hate it when I have to wait alone. Usually I do. This train station must have been something in its glory days but those days are long past and this place depresses me. No it’s not the place that depresses me it’s the fact that she’s not here yet.

Why’d she have to decide to go to Howard anyway? God, all the way to DC and me stuck here. Sure she got the money she needed - I’m not that stupid. But like I said, sometimes it’s not all about the money. I hardly ever see her. With school and trips to see her folks we hardly get together at all. It’s me that goes to see her most of the time but I don’t care. I’ll be so glad when she graduates. Who would have ever thought she’d want that degree? But it will mean more money when she goes back to teaching. And more money is good. I know - it’s not always about the money. She’s smart. More then smart and I know how this means to her. I’m proud of her too but I’ll be glad when these two long years are over.

Mom’s so sick. She looks worse every day and I’m so scared. I’ve never felt this alone. I need her here now - I need her so much. Mom needs to see us - she needs to know that we’re doing okay. It’s funny but she still worries about me. Maybe she’ll be better today. I think she’ll be glad to see us. She’s the strong one - she’ll know what to say. Sure I put up the tough facade but I’ve learned over these last ten years that she handles life’s challenges better then I do and oh do I need her now. Things will be better once she’s here. Come on train - what’s taking so long?

Okay, okay here it comes. There she is.

Hugs are so nice. At first tentative and hurried. Then your arms become more sure of themselves and the two are pulled closer together. Familiar sensations, warmth, comfort, relief, and joy all flood thorough you in mere seconds. Close your eyes and be thankful.

It sure is a mess when the one we love go away. School, jobs, the military, so many things that keep us apart. But the best thing is that they can always find their way home.

So why do we do this? Why do we fight, why do we hurt, and why do we love? Because it’s life and life is all there is and besides, we probably wouldn’t want it any other way.

Jera