“You have to wake up Grams. Shadow Man says we have to play games with her!” Twilla insisted.
“But you said you weren’t playing his games earlier this week.” I replied, looking at her in amusement.
“He says we have to. And that Grams knows some games that we’d really like to play so wake her up Mommy!” Lindy responded, dancing in place with excitement. Oh to have the energy of an eight year old!
“Now girls, Grams needs her rest. Why don’t you go play in the back yard?” Wes had learned the compromise game too.
“No, we have to do what the Shadow Man says!” Twilla said almost angrily.
I looked at her in displeasure. This was not my normally well-behaved child.
“Twilla Marie Slade! You do not speak to me like that!” I said sternly, not willing to allow the behavior.
“I am sorry, Mommy.” She said quickly, hanging her head. But then she popped back up. “The Shadow Man says…”
“I do not care what the Shadow Man says, I am your mother. Now go play on your swing.”
“Why don't we order pizza tonight, Clara? And if the girls are good we will watch a movie later.” Wes offered.
The girls cheered and went off to play in the back yard while I went in to order pizza online. There was a lot of bad to say about technology but being able to order delivery online was definitely a good thing. I went into the house, closing the screen door quietly as I went into the living room. Before I made it to the laptop something odd happened. A light popped in the living room, as though a lightbulb had overheated and a bright flash of light accompanied the glowing filament before the whole thing blew. But the light was still on, overhead, the other lamps were all off and hadn’t been used at all that day. I was not sure what it was all about but decided to worry about it later. My laptop was in the living room from last night and my babies wanted pizza. I wanted some too, if I am honest.
With a smile to myself, I settled on the couch and opened the computer up to see a webpage already open on the screen. That is odd; I always closed all open pages down at night. One of the girls or Wes must have used it this morning. I was clicking to hide the page and open a new one when I heard a noise from the direction of Mom’s room. It sounded like a growl.
Concerned Mom was ill I rushed to the room, flinging the door open. I gave a sigh as I saw she was still asleep, her frail arm hanging from the side of the bed. I put her arm back under the cover and closed the door once more as I left. She needed her rest.
Heading back into the living room I sat down at my laptop once more. The page was still open so I went to close it again but the headline caught my attention.
“Shadow Ghosts and How They Really Can Hurt You!” The headline screamed in red letters made to look like dripping blood. That was not what caught my eye though, it was the shadow part. The girls called their new invisible friend the Shadow Man. Had Wes been looking up the man or something?
My attention was caught by the sound of the girls giggling in the backyard and I opened a new tab, dismissing my curiosity while I ordered the pizza. I would ask Wes about it later. Perhaps he was worried about it? The girls did keep mentioning the “man”. Ghosts weren’t real though, I do not know why he would be worried enough to look him up. Besides, imaginary friends weren’t ghosts.
But why had Wes used my laptop? He usually used his own. And the girls did not use either without asking first. Dismissing it as weird I was far too busy to worry about it too much. Maybe Wes was just playing a trick anyway. He sometimes had a very mischievous sense of humor. Perhaps this was another one of his jokes. “Scare the wife and get the reaction on film.” I looked around but saw no cameras.
“Well, you haven’t scared me or tricked me Wes.” I said out loud, just in case. “You are getting anchovy pizza by the way. That’ll show you!”
I stood up with a grin and went out to the porch once more. Wes was in the back pushing the girls so I stayed on the porch where I would hear Mom if she woke up. Sighing once more I kept an eye out for the delivery guy and tried not to fall asleep. I was a bit tired myself. The late morning just hadn’t been enough to get rid of the exhaustion caused by last night’s bit of lunacy.
Feeling crabby I decided maybe a glass of wine would be nice later and was smiling as I thought about where sharing a bottle of wine with Wes might get us. We’d both fell into bed exhausted each night since Mom came to stay. I was busy with her all day and the girls after school. Wes came home from work a few hours later and helped out in a major way by keeping the girls occupied. We were both running out of steam at the end of the night and our sex life was suffering for it.
I was going to get up to head out to the gas station just up the road to buy a bottle when I felt a shadow pass over me and a cold chill broke my skin out in goose-bumps. Startled I sat up in the chair as my eyes popped open. I inspected the long porch but there was nobody there.
I looked out into the yard but saw nobody out there either. I had heard no footsteps but I had felt a presence, the shadow had blocked out the light of the day it was so large. And the air had been so frigidly cold! I put my hands on my shoulders, trying to soothe away the feeling that had passed over me. It was a weird moment but I had to put it off as exhaustion, I thought to myself. There simply was not anyone there.
Pushing off from the chair I went around to the back of the house to tell Wes what I was doing and to keep an eye out for the delivery man. The girls were playing on their swing set and Wes was sitting under a very old and large oak tree that stood tall over the play area. He looked so peaceful there watching our girls play. I was smiling as I walked up to them but the smile disappeared when I got near the tree.
For a moment it looked like a man with a hat was standing behind the tree, just where Wes could not see him. The shadow seemed to jolt in my direction then disappeared. It is just your mind messing with you, Clara, I assured myself. There are no such things as shadow people or shadow ghosts. You did not really just see the girls’ invisible friend. But that did not stop the prickle of fear that made my skin go ice cold.
Chapter Four
“Ms. Betty seems to be very lucid today.” Amber commented as she told me about Mom’s vital signs and overall health Monday morning.
“Yes,” I agreed my green eyes tired and bloodshot from the long weekend. “It was a rough few days though. I do not know if this sleep-walking is a symptom of the disease or her medicines but it has to stop.”
“I understand, Clara. I have put a call in to the doctor for something different to help her to sleep. Hopefully that will fix whatever the problem is. She is incredibly lucid but that doesn’t mean much when her nights are spent sleep-walking. It happened Friday, Saturday, and last night you said?” Amber put a compassionate hand on my shoulder as I struggled up from my chair in the kitchen.
“Yes, and I am so glad Penelope is here to help her take a bath this morning and to keep an eye on her. I am going to have to take a nap before I go to the doctor this afternoon. I am just so tired.”
It did not seem to matter how much I slept I was still exhausted every day. The nightly disturbances were to blame but I wondered. I hadn’t felt this tired since I was pregnant with the girls. It was always a possibility and I would have to find out before this went on too much longer. I had considered taking a sleeping pill but I was afraid I would sleep through one of Mom’s episodes and if I was pregnant, I did not want to take any unnecessary medication.
“Tell me it is not my place if you’d like, Clara, but this is all new for you and with your mother waking you up every night there’s hardly any wonder you are so tired. I would not worry too much. I bet you will feel a million times better if we can get your mother to sleep through the night.” Amber’s voice was reassuring and I took her words gratefully.
“I bet you are right. We will see what the doctor has to say though, just in case it is something else. I will pick up Mom’s new pills while I am out as well.”
“They should
be ready by then. Call me if you need anything else, even at night, Clara. You are new to this and I am here to support you in any way I can. Honestly, call me anytime.” Amber said with a final smile as she gathered up her things to leave. “You need support too. I know you have your husband but if you need anything explained or just an ear, do not hesitate to call.”
“Thank you, Amber, you are an angel. Be careful out there, we need people like you in this world.” I smiled as she gave a final wave and then I was alone for five more minutes.
Penelope finished up with Mom’s bath and they joined me in the living room. I was watching old re-runs of Bewitched when they came into the living room. Penelope then went out to make Mom some lunch and I watched Mom settle down.
“Oh this is one of my favorite shows.” Betty said.
“I know Mom. I used to love watching this with you. It is such a great show.”
“It was one of the best parts of your childhood for me, watching these old programs with you.” My Mom said with a nostalgic smile. “You were so excited about watching grownup programs with me. I bet they’re very different now for you though, as an adult. You get the jokes that would have gone over your head back then.”
“Yes, you are right. I had no idea Samantha and Darren were so very amorous, you know. But it is nice, learning about them again. Even some of the ones that were on so often hold a different meaning for me now. It was wonderful back then to watch all of this with you though. I miss those days.” I replied.
“Well, we can have it for a little while longer. At least until I forget everything I expect.” Mom spoke with a sad tone that seemed to say she accepted her fate but did not like it.
I had wondered if Mom realized what was happening to her, if somewhere in her mind the real her was trapped and struggling to get out sometimes. That notion terrified me for her and for others with her disease. Being trapped inside of your own body with no way to communicate is just too terrifying a notion.
There was so much about her disease that I did not understand. I was heartbroken that the strong nurse I had grown up with, the independent intelligent woman that had been such a good nurse was turning into a forgetful old woman of 64. She was still young to have the disease but age did not seem to really matter to the disease. This was one of her lucid moments and I was worried, like her, that we’d have fewer of these as the days passed.
It might be the last time I would get to ask her who my father was. I had often tried to ask her about the man when I was a child but she would get upset, stop speaking to me for a week sometimes, and would sink into a depression that I simply could not understand. Surely she had loved my father, or at least so I thought as a child. Now I wondered.
My mother’s severe reaction to such a simple question eventually led me to stop asking. I could not stand being ignored and not being spoken to. Now, as an adult the haunted look my question evoked raised even more questions. Had my father been married, or worse, was I the product of something evil? My mother’s reaction was one of fear and trauma, something bad had happened to my mother and my questions brought it back to her.
She would just have to face that now to tell me the truth. I had to know who the man was. I had a right to know. I looked over at her, prepared to demand an answer finally, but saw she was asleep. She needed her rest and I had to be at the doctor soon. It would wait a little while longer but not too much longer.
I had seized onto the idea suddenly, and now it would not leave me alone. What if the man had had genetic problems that I could be passing onto my children? What if he had had other hereditary problems, mental problems or other problems? What if I had siblings? I deserved to know if I had siblings or not.
I drove myself to the doctor after Penelope brought Mom her lunch and continued to wonder about the question. I was building up the scenario in my head and it was getting quite dramatic when the nurse finally called me back to the office. I let the question and the fake scenario fall away as the nurse first weighed me and then took me into a room. There she began to ask me routine questions before leaving. The doctor then came into the room and without once looking up started to ask another set of questions. Neither one actually asked me what the problem was or why I had come in, just went through a checklist then walked out.
The nurse eventually came back and drew some blood then disappeared again. I was a bundle of nerves when the doctor came back in twenty minutes later. I wanted to get up and walk out of the office after sitting there so long with barely a word spoken to me other than to ask me curt questions before each walked away. Now this cold man was coming back in to tell me whether I was pregnant or not. I think it was time to find a new doctor.
“Your pregnancy test came back negative, Mrs. Slade, but your vitamin B-12 levels are down. If you’d like we can start you on a birth control course and a course of B-12 shots.” The doctor hadn’t even looked at me yet, instead he was staring at a tablet, flicking through screens.
“No, that will not be necessary. Also, I will be finding a doctor that actually has time for his patients and can look them in the eye. If you’d be so kind please have my records ready when the new office calls.”
I walked out of the office, paid the receptionist, and then left the office. I was not going back into that office. I do not know why I had put with the man for so long. My patience was worn far too thin to look over it now and I would be looking for a new doctor when I found the time. Stopping by the pharmacy I spoke with the pharmacist to find that Mom’s pills were ready and to find out that the shots were the best way to supplement my vitamin levels but he recommended a sublingual liquid I could take until I could get to a new doctor. The pharmacist also recommended a doctor and I left the pharmacy far happier than when I had gone in.
On the drive home I decided that tomorrow would be a better day to ask my Mom about my father. We’d be alone and there would be no interruptions. It would be a much better time to ask about the man that left that look in her eyes and this time I would not take silence for an answer.
The next day I set up the table for our lunch, fixed our favorite kind of salad, grilled chicken Caesar salad, and sat Mom down with some garlic toast and a glass of sparkling water. She was lucid today and we’d spent the first half of the day watching old television programs she loved. I downloaded a bunch of them from Amazon and we had quite a bit to watch.
“Oh this looks lovely, Clara. I wish you hadn’t gone to so much trouble.” Mom said as she took her first bite and gave a hum of enjoyment.
“You love it Mom and so do I. It was no trouble at all.” I told her as I ate my own salad.
I let her have her meal in peace but my own nerves were ratcheting up for the conversation that was coming. Would she go silent again as usual? I had been around 12 years old the last time I asked; surely, she had had time to get over her hurt to answer me truthfully now without theatrics?
I looked over at her and took her hand as she put her fork down and pushed her bowl away.
“Momma, I love you and I always will but I have to ask you something. Before it is too late you have to tell me.”
Mom tensed and pulled her hand away, clasping both of her own hands together nervously. I guess she knew what I wanted to know.
“We are running out of time Mom. I hate to do this but you have to tell me the truth about my father. I deserve to know.” I rushed through the words, wanting to get them out before I lost my nerve. “This time you do not get to stop talking to me or ignore me, you have to tell me the truth before you lose that information.”
“No, Clara. I do not have to tell you and you can’t make me. It is just too painful to recall.” Mom began wringing the napkin into submission as she spoke, the fragile paper tearing to shreds under her fingers.
I lost my patience, I was not pleased about it but something just snapped and I slammed my hand down onto the table with enough force to rattle the dishes.
“Mom, you have to tell me.” I said as I stood up, my anger
growing. “I have a right to know.”
Mom began to wail then, her hands going over her ears as if to shut out my words. Her body began to tremble and instantly I regretted my aggression.
“Mom, please, calm down. I just need to know who he is not what happened or how it happened, or any of the details but I need to know.”
Mom only wailed louder and then ran off to her room. I regretted my actions, my insistence, and ran after my mother, wanting only to comfort her now. I held Mom after curling up on the bed with her. Mom’s body was wracked by great deep sobs and she just kept repeating the word "no" over and over again.
I brushed at her hair with my hand, wanting only to soothe her now. I should have known better, I told myself. I felt like a horrible daughter at that point for upsetting her so much but I just wanted to know who the man was. Surely that was not wrong of me?
Mom’s reaction left me with only one conclusion though. Something terrible had happened. Either to my father or to my mother and from this reaction I would have to say it was my mother. I did not know any of her family; maybe they’d done something to her? Or maybe the father had taken advantage of Mom? Maybe I was the product of rape?
But how could my mother love me so much if that were true? Wouldn’t she hate me?
I got up after she fell asleep and went into the bathroom.
I looked just like my mother had at my age, the only real photos I had ever seen of her coming from soon after I was born. Mom had had my blonde hair and green eyes, my upturned nose and heart-shaped face. We’d both had high cheekbones that gave us a pretty face but Mom’s eyes had somehow always been more womanly, more seductive I thought. I was pretty enough, I supposed, but Mom had been beautiful and still was.
I did not see anything in me that could have been from my father. Maybe that had made it easier for my mother to live with me? I could not imagine hating a child, not after bearing two of my own, but the product of rape? Would I be able to love such a child? How had my mother, if that is what had happened to her?
Thriller: Emily Page 21
