Mary Estrada's Pick
"Wonderful twist on a familiar subject. Excellent understated ending."
It was a case of classic psychological warfare.
On October 7, 1973, my mother caught me actively and messily trying to let go of this life, walked in on me in the last act just as things were starting to fade. Did she panic? Scream and ask the heavens "Why, oh God, why?" Call 911?
No.
She grabbed the bloodied razor on the sink, climbed into the tub with me, her skirt floating to the top and said, "I hope you're happy," then quickly slit both of her wrists. She had the look of someone who was late to the party and trying to catch up on the festivities.
After staring at her a few seconds, blinking, I screamed, no real words forming, only thoughts — oh God, dear God, what she mom —
She seemed honestly confused at my horror. "Oh, I see," she said in perfect mother tone, "It's all well and good for you —"
I was out of the bathtub before she could finish that sentence, blood streaking down my arms. A clarity had seized me, her act bringing the world back into startling focus. I grabbed a towel and wrapped up my left arm with my right then threw a towel to her instructing her to do the same.
I ran to the living room, feeling weaker, realizing I'd lost enough blood to turn the water pink — Mom's uniform will be ruined — I was trapped in the hallways of my mind, groping for the concrete I knew existed outside of it, finally finding the phone and yelling — it was a loud speaker, and I just needed to yell into it, let my voice reach the window.
I managed to punch 911 and scream in the general direction of the receiver, "We need ambulances, we're dying!"
I pictured twin ambulances speeding side by side, racing each other to reach us. Who would they save first? One for her, one for me, "She's in the bathtub.dying..." I whispered.
I lay down, my cheek flattening the orange shag of our front room, and my eyes found the shoes she'd worn to work that morning, empty in front of the door.
As I passed out I thought, She always gets her way.
Laura Edwards is an adjunct professor of language and literature at Cedarville University and the book review editor for WritersNotes.com. She is working on a masters in English and writes in her free time. Laura currently resides in Ohio with her husband of twelve years and their two sons.