Authors: Judith Jackson
Oh Jeessh. Here we go. When would Sharon learn? Any griping about our childhood always set Mom off.
“Mom I loved Hamburger Helper. And Tuna Helper. All the helpers — I’m just saying …”
“I don’t want to argue. This isn’t the time,” said my mother in a brisk voice. “Val, I read the funniest story in the newspaper this morning. As soon as I saw it I thought to myself, Val is going to have a good laugh when she hears this one.”
Well I doubted that. I can’t remember the last time I laughed out loud at something in the paper. But who knows? The way I was feeling I could use a chuckle.
“I don’t remember the exact story,” said my mother, “but the principal of a high school went to a party and drank too much and flashed her boobs around and someone took a picture and sent it all over the school. Caused quite a kefuffle.”
“That’s not funny,” said Sharon. “That’s terrible. What kind of jerk would do something like that?”
Once again, I was in agreement with Sharon. What was going on? I never agreed with Sharon. Generally, pretty much everything she said annoyed me. And it’s not because I am a person who is easily annoyed. Sharon is a seriously irritating person. But Mom’s idea of humor was pretty off kilter these days. I blame it on Anabelle, her girlfriend of the last couple years. Annabelle has no sense of humor. None. She’s one of those people who says “that’s funny,” but I’ve never actually seen her laugh.
My head was really throbbing now. I wished Mom and Sharon would both stop nattering and just go away. Maybe if I ignored them they would pack up and leave. And what was that banging? Or knocking? The door?
“Helloooo. Val. It’s me. I brought that new book I was telling you about.”
Oh for crying out loud. Rose. What was she doing here? Not that I don’t love Rose, but I really needed some quiet.
“Hello Rose,” said my mother in a tone notable for its lack of enthusiasm. Mom has a few issues with Rose. “She needs a filter,” says my mother. “Every damn thought she has comes spewing out her mouth.”
“Hello Hello,” said Rose in a chipper voice. “How’s everyone doing? Look at that huge bouquet. Where’d you get those? Walter Fink. That wanker sent you flowers? I’m not fond of lilies myself. They’re a funeral flower.”
“There will be no talk of funerals,” said my mother in a commanding voice. “Is that clear?”
What was up with her?
“No one is talking about funerals Mom,” said Sharon.
“I was simply commenting on the unfortunate choice of lilies,” said Rose. “Don’t go flying off the handle. That isn’t going to help anyone.”
“We’re both exhausted Rose,” said Sharon. “And a little testy. You can imagine.”
“Don’t I know it?” said Rose. “I haven’t been sleeping much myself. What’s the latest news?”
“Nothing new,” said Sharon. “They’re going to do another EEG tomorrow.”
“But its early days,” said Mom. “Only a week. There is no reason to believe she isn’t going to be completely fine. We are just going to keep talking and reading and letting her know we’re here for her.”
“Well I brought a book,” said Rose. “A real page-turner. I’ll read until she’s sick of listening to me.”
“She will never tire of hearing us,” said my mother. “We have to keep talking. Twenty-four hours a day someone should be talking. You never know when a voice is going to break through the fog.”
Twenty-four hours a day? No wonder I felt so terrible. What was wrong with these people?
“Just don’t be unrealistic Mom,” said Sharon. “Temper your expectations. It will make things easier in the end.”
“What are you talking about, the end?” asked Mom, sounding quite irate. “Don’t talk like that around her. You get out of here if you can’t be positive.”
“Calm down. I’m just trying to be the voice of reason. Someone has to be. We have decisions to make.”
“What kind of decisions?”
“Well. Long term decisions. About – I don’t know – organ donation. Do we even know how she feels about donating her organs?”
Donating her organs. Were they talking about me? I had no plans to donate my organs. Not that I don’t believe in it. Hypothetically I believe in it.
“What are you talking about?” Mom was really angry. “Organ donation. She’s not donating any organs. She’ll be using them for years to come.”
Exactly. And why are they discussing my organs?
“Relax,” said Sharon. “Just, you know. If things don’t turn around.”
“Val is not dying. Nowhere close to dying! She is in a coma and is going to snap out of it any time now. No thanks to you and your negativity.”
“Mom…”
Coma? What the … Me? I’m in a coma?
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