Beggars for Roses

On False Promises

The sun was up and burned hot
and scorching
in the sky. I felt rested, but like the
pestering peel of sunny sweat, my sense
of wariness, with my family, my
father, and even myself, wouldn't come
off.

          I took quick impatient steps as I
crossed the parking lot towards the big side
entrance of the hospital that lead a
short way to the wing my mother was housed
in. I had dropped Maria at the gate
of her building and had an hour's rest back
home before coming here.

                                                   As I entered
my mother's room, there was a shock waiting
for me. She looked old, too old, much more frail
and generally ill than the state I'd
left her in.

                      "Mom. What happened? You look so
different," I blurted out as I reached
her side in two strides.

                                            "You are back, so soon?"
she mumbled as she turned her head weakly.

"I told you I'll be back. What have you done
to yourself in two days? Are they even
looking at you? Have they been neglecting
you?"

              I impatiently looked around the
room--Josephine had not arrived yet--and
rang for the nurse. She came in and assured
me that mother had not been neglecting
herself. She had been taking all her pills
on time, and had been finishing her meals
as usual.

                 However, the weekend
nurse reported that she had appeared dis-
heartened and more tired than before.

                                                                           I sat
close to mom as the nurse left and tried to
reassure her. Her recent ordeal, the
disturbing emotions it caused, the stress ...
these could be the only explanation for this rapid change.

                                          As she looked up at
me with that tired face, lines around her eyes
and mouth more pronounced than before, skin two
shades darker than what I'd seen on my good-
bye visit, she smiled remorsefully and
raised a trembling hand to my cheek. I held
it there for her, she was so weak.

                                                               "I will
be okay, Geoffrey. I'm just worried for
you. You've such loyalty for family,
for all your rebelliousness ... I wish
you were settled in life, before I left
for good, before you could learn the truth ... There
would be more peace in my heart over this,
if you were not alone. I wish I had
been able to make a successful match,
that you'd let me marry you off. Your heart
is in the right place. You would have loved your
children to pieces, been loyal to your 
spouse. You'd have been faithful to us too and
to the legacy of this family.
If only you had let me. You won't take
care of yourself after I'm gone, after
what you've recently learned, after... after
she's gone too..."

                                 Her voice was a hoarse whisper
as it drowned in her own tears. There were so
many tears in our family lately.
I guess that's what happens when you let old
skeletons out of dusty cupboards.

                                                               "I'll

take care of myself, I promise."

                                                            I cleaned
her face with my handkerchief, the same one
I had used on my other mom, two days
ago...