The door swung open and I saw my older brother walk into the house, entering the kitchen. "How is she?" he asked me. There was a desperation in his voice that I knew was reflected back to him through my eyes. "She's okay, right?"
I looked up at him, the kitchen seeming too empty even with him in it. "The Doctors say she'll be perfectly fine," I said, overwhelmed, "It was just exhaustion."
"Well can I see her?" he asked urgently. "Is she awake?"
"No, she's sleeping, but you can see her."
"Okay." He walked into the room, his hands gripping the ends of his shirt. "Hey Mom," I heard him murmur as he walked in. She didn't respond of course, she most likely didn't hear him since she was sleeping.
My mother passed out while making dinner, so I called 911 and they rushed here. They said it was just exhaustion, but... I couldn't help but feel so scared. Even then, with all the assurance I needed to know she would be fine.
I stood up and followed my brother into the room, my eyes strained with stress, my cheeks stained with tears. I didn't say anything, I just simply watched as my brother slid a chair next to my mother on the couch.
He griped her hand, and I notice that she griped back. To both our surprise she opened her eyes, but what I had expected to be a warm loving look, turned to be one of fright and confusion.
"W-where am I?" she demanded, sitting up rapidly, "Who are you?"
My brother stood up, gently pushing her back down to lie on the couch. "Mom, it's okay, it's us..."
"Who- who are you? Get away from me!" she swiped his hand away, and the room fell into complete silence.
"Mom?" I said gently, "Mom it's us? James and Maddy."
"Who?" she asked, less demanding, but equally as fearful and urgent. "I don't understand, where am I?"
And from that point on, my mother was never the same. The doctors said she must've hit her head on her fall down. They said her normal mentality may come back, but it's been years, and there show no sign of recovery.
-~-
I walk into the kitchen, "Hey Mom, it's Maddy," I say, and she's sitting at the kitchen table.
"The ice-cream man drove by, did you buy me ice-cream?" she asks me.
"No ice-cream man drove by, Mom. How was your day?"
This is common behavior for my mother now. Her psychologist explained it to me as little bits of her past coming back, and she is suddenly living that moment again, but in her current circumstance. It's painful, honestly, because suddenly I have to parent my mother.
I laugh at the irony. I grew up with my Mom being paranoid at the thought of me having to parent her. So whenever she thought she was being too "childish" she'd profusely apologize, saying that I should never burden myself with parenting my parent.
"Where's the ice-cream?" she asks, somewhat downcast that I don't have any.
"You didn't ask me to get any, Mom," I say carefully. "Do you want ice-cream? You have some in the freezer--"
"I can get it myself, Maddy," she says. She gets up, using the table as a boost, and walking to the freezer. I watch her, and I don't say anything as she pulls open the fridge instead and grabs an opened jar of mayonnaise. She reaches into the cupboard and grabs a bowl with a fork, and scoops the mayonnaise into the bowl.
I think to myself, perhaps I should interfere, but she could barely ever be independent, and I know for a fact that interrupting her at this moment would do nothing but start an argument.
She sat down, with her bowl of cold mayonnaise, and shoveled a bit onto her fork, popping it into her mouth. I watch as her face gives a dissatisfied grimace.
"They don't make ice-cream like I remember it," she says, "It used to be much better."
"Do you like it?" I ask, wondering if I should give her a real bowl of ice-cream.
She takes another bite, still blissfully unaware it wasn't ice-cream. "It's good enough, but it isn't stiff like it should be."
"How was your day, Mom?" I ask, figuring there was no harm in letting her eat the mayo. It isn't because I want to watch her be stupid, but fixing her mistake seems very destructive in this moment. Besides, with my mother now, you have to choose your battles.
"It was fine. The T.V. went out again," she said. I glanced at the T.V., noticing it was still on and playing perfectly fine.
"That's too bad," I say, looking back at her. "Want me to see if I can fix it?" I ask.
"That would be lovely, Maddy," she smiles, leaning over and kissing my cheek. I can smell the mayonnaise in her breath, but I smile anyway.
I walk over to the T.V. and act like I was fixing it, all the while she watched with a far away look. "There," I say at last, "That should do it." I flicked the T.V. off, and then on again. Watching her face, I saw her eyes light up and her cheeks dimple. "That's it! Thank you, Maddy, I tried that myself, you know... technology hates me, I say!" she laughed, sitting on the couch.
"Want me to watch a show with you?" I ask.
"Sure," she says, patting the fusion next to her. "What do you want to watch?"
I had taken her T.V. network away months ago, so she only has a few channels, most are news reports. However, she isn't aware of that, so I've grown accustom to my mother letting me "pick the show."
"Anything it fine," I say simply, a heavy weight in my chest.
"I feel like something funny," she says, determined.
I nod, "Funny it is."
It hadn't been more than 5 minutes, and she had fallen asleep. I sit up every so carefully, and take a nearby quilt to lay over her. Rubbing her back, I kiss her head. "Good morning, Mom," I say quietly, and leave for work. It's 7:00 in the morning, and I'm almost late for work. "I'll be back later..."
Maybe I'll buy some better ice-cream. I know she loves Rocky Road.
This counts as a disorder, right? I'm not entirely sure, but I'm entering it anyway... thanks for reading guys!
-LovelySheree
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