It was eight in the evening, after a long day of work and time with my mom. Having my own limo business had it's downfalls, dealing with the diva-type celebrities, having to keep up with competition, and the long waiting and waiting for the clients just about killed me. But at the end of the day it was a job in which I could drive all day and when the divider was up, driving was all it took.
Most evenings after work I would visit my mom and spend dinner with her. Most nights it was pleasant, and I paid enough to keep her there that the food was actually really good. But tonight was different. Tonight was miserable and made me want to skip seeing her for a week. I reached in my fridge for a cold beer, snapped the cap off, and let the amber liquid wash down my throat before letting the foam dissipate. Tonight, I needed this.
Flashback to dinner with Ian's mother
The sun filtered in through the swaying vertical blinds of the dining area. Leading my mother to our usual table, I commented on the new arrangement of daisies. She seemed to be in a good mood, which made my horrible work day fade into insignificant. "What's for dinner tonight Mom?"
She sat across the table, caught into her own world, leaning her head on her hand and gazing out into the yard. The wrinkles around her eyes were more noticeable when she smiled and her eyes crinkled. Her graying hair layed flat on her shoulders, which aged her appropriately. She blinked a few times and let her gaze fall on her handsome son. "What was that Ian? I'm sorry I didn't catch that."
I smiled, loving whatever brought that smile to her face. "I asked, what is for dinner?"
She frowned a bit. "Spaghetti with meatballs." She seemed distracted by whatever was outside, and finally just went for it. "Ian, I want to be outside."
I smiled, patting her hand in a soothing way. "We can go for a walk after dinner if you'd like."
"No, son. I want to be out of here. I know you are paying for me to stay here and I know it is expensive. I overheard the caretakers talking about it. This is nothing but a glorified prison, and if you have the money to keep me here, why can't you just bring me home and pay someone to take care of me?" She was obviously angered towards the end of her rant so I moved to the chair next to her and put my arm around her. I always feared we might have this conversation, which is why I never wanted her to know that I came into money.
"Mother, please. This is the best place for you to be. I did some very intense research before moving you here, and that is why you are here. You will be taken care of far better than if you lived with me." It was something I had thought of, something I had dreampt about. Finally living under the same roof as my mom. But the ten-year old little boy in me remembered, and warned me of the time she tried to escape. Not only was this the best choice for me but it was the best choice for her.
She crossed her arms, and looked away from me, back out the window. "Ian I am still your mom and you can't even do this one little thing for me? It's what I want the most."
Sighing I looked out the window and knew a big fight was coming. "You know I can't do that. What if you have a bad day and try to get away? What if you succeed? How would you survive? You have to understand that I would feel responsible and punish myself for allowing this to happen. By you staying here, I feel at ease." I hoped this would help her understand but I knew it wouldn't.
"Well I'm glad you are comfortable. I'm glad that you, the son I gave life to, has an enjoyable life and can do whatever you want to, when you want to without boundaries." She huffed and stood up suddenly, knocking her chair down in the process which drew all attention to us. "I want you to leave now Ian. You don't care about me."
Before I could respond, the kitchen orderly came over and took my mother's hand, asking her to settle down or be removed. My mom looked me square in the eye and stated that she was no longer hungry and asked to be taken to her room. I asked for our dinner to be cancelled and left too, feeling guilty and angry at the same time.
End Flashback
Realizing that I had a tight grip on my empty bottle, I loosened and threw it in the recycle bin. I stepped out to the patio and pulled a cigarette out of my pocket. Inhaling deep I though about my mother and my father. "When will it ever get easier?" I said to myself and resigned myself to the single tear that rolled down my cheek.
Most evenings after work I would visit my mom and spend dinner with her. Most nights it was pleasant, and I paid enough to keep her there that the food was actually really good. But tonight was different. Tonight was miserable and made me want to skip seeing her for a week. I reached in my fridge for a cold beer, snapped the cap off, and let the amber liquid wash down my throat before letting the foam dissipate. Tonight, I needed this.
Flashback to dinner with Ian's mother
The sun filtered in through the swaying vertical blinds of the dining area. Leading my mother to our usual table, I commented on the new arrangement of daisies. She seemed to be in a good mood, which made my horrible work day fade into insignificant. "What's for dinner tonight Mom?"
She sat across the table, caught into her own world, leaning her head on her hand and gazing out into the yard. The wrinkles around her eyes were more noticeable when she smiled and her eyes crinkled. Her graying hair layed flat on her shoulders, which aged her appropriately. She blinked a few times and let her gaze fall on her handsome son. "What was that Ian? I'm sorry I didn't catch that."
I smiled, loving whatever brought that smile to her face. "I asked, what is for dinner?"
She frowned a bit. "Spaghetti with meatballs." She seemed distracted by whatever was outside, and finally just went for it. "Ian, I want to be outside."
I smiled, patting her hand in a soothing way. "We can go for a walk after dinner if you'd like."
"No, son. I want to be out of here. I know you are paying for me to stay here and I know it is expensive. I overheard the caretakers talking about it. This is nothing but a glorified prison, and if you have the money to keep me here, why can't you just bring me home and pay someone to take care of me?" She was obviously angered towards the end of her rant so I moved to the chair next to her and put my arm around her. I always feared we might have this conversation, which is why I never wanted her to know that I came into money.
"Mother, please. This is the best place for you to be. I did some very intense research before moving you here, and that is why you are here. You will be taken care of far better than if you lived with me." It was something I had thought of, something I had dreampt about. Finally living under the same roof as my mom. But the ten-year old little boy in me remembered, and warned me of the time she tried to escape. Not only was this the best choice for me but it was the best choice for her.
She crossed her arms, and looked away from me, back out the window. "Ian I am still your mom and you can't even do this one little thing for me? It's what I want the most."
Sighing I looked out the window and knew a big fight was coming. "You know I can't do that. What if you have a bad day and try to get away? What if you succeed? How would you survive? You have to understand that I would feel responsible and punish myself for allowing this to happen. By you staying here, I feel at ease." I hoped this would help her understand but I knew it wouldn't.
"Well I'm glad you are comfortable. I'm glad that you, the son I gave life to, has an enjoyable life and can do whatever you want to, when you want to without boundaries." She huffed and stood up suddenly, knocking her chair down in the process which drew all attention to us. "I want you to leave now Ian. You don't care about me."
Before I could respond, the kitchen orderly came over and took my mother's hand, asking her to settle down or be removed. My mom looked me square in the eye and stated that she was no longer hungry and asked to be taken to her room. I asked for our dinner to be cancelled and left too, feeling guilty and angry at the same time.
End Flashback
Realizing that I had a tight grip on my empty bottle, I loosened and threw it in the recycle bin. I stepped out to the patio and pulled a cigarette out of my pocket. Inhaling deep I though about my mother and my father. "When will it ever get easier?" I said to myself and resigned myself to the single tear that rolled down my cheek.
