"Detached" Submission #7

Madrid, Iowa - Late 1969, Early 1970

The passing of my father had introduced me to death. Human death. I had pets die, but not family members. This tragedy brought to my realization that anyone could die and that thought began to haunt me.

My fear, anxiety and loneliness began to overwhelm me. These thoughts and emotions metastasized into a genuine fear that my mom would soon die and I would be left totally alone.

I was so scared, that I would sometimes creep into my mom's room and lie down beside her so that I could keep an eye on her at night. My dad died when I was away from him and I figured if I was with my mom... she wouldn't die.

I remember one night, not long after we had moved to Madrid, that I crawled into bed next to my mom and began to talk to her. At some point, I left to use the bathroom, returning only a couple minutes later. I resumed my conversation but quickly became aware that my mom was not responding.

"Mom?" I said. No response.

"Mom!" I said louder. Nothing.

"MOM! MOM! MOM!" I screamed as I began shaking her violently.

Her eyes flew open wide with terror, "Bart, what's wrong?!?" She screamed!

My mom, unbeknownst to me, had been taking sleeping pills to fight some insomnia she was experiencing since my dad had passed away. That night, the pills had kicked in quickly and with strength.

I thought she had died. I REALLY thought she had died. It took me hours to quit shaking.

My mom had a terrible, hacking cough caused by years of a 3 pack-a-day smoking habit. It was not unusual for her to have coughing spells that literally took her breath away to the point of passing out. This, too, frightened me as I was sure that one of these times she would be unable to catch her breath and she would just quit breathing.

Those coughing fits seemed to intensify at night as she tried to sleep. This was the major reason that I eventually quit slipping into her room at night to sleep next to her. From my bedroom, I would still hear her hacking at all hours of the night. To combat it, I developed a technique whereby I would wrap my pillow around my head and thus insulate my eardrums from most sound. In addition, I would turn a box fan on high as an added noise distraction in an effort to NOT hear my mom cough.

All these years later... I still wrap my pillow around my head and I sleep with a fan on high 365 nights a year... and it all started because I thought my mom was going to cough herself to death.

I clung to my mom more than ever. I didn't want to lose her. My sister, Barbara, had always been my surrogate mother of sorts. And to some extent, because of the age difference of my siblings, my brothers also, had always taken care of me... watched over me... loved me, the baby of the family. But they were all a couple thousand miles away. Mom was all I had.

My mom was still young... just in her mid-forties and she looked younger than her age. None of that registered with me. She was just my mom and I needed her now more than I had ever needed her before. So... it took me by surprise when the inevitable happened. She started dating.

Teens date. Not moms. Especially not MY mom! What would dad think? I couldn't understand it and I definitely didn't accept it.

Elmo Shuey. At least she could have dated a guy with a normal name! Elmo. Yes... ELMO!

Apparently my mom had dated him centuries ago when the big band era was still small and their acne was the major issue in life. I guess they decided to see if the fire could be rekindled.

I tried to conceal my jealousy the night he came over for their first date. He tried to talk to me like he was my favorite uncle but I was having none of it. I looked at him as a thief. I had one parent stolen from me by cancer and death... and here was a guy looking to steal my mom with his charm and his new Olds Toronado.

Like a dad talking to his 16-year-old daughter, I quizzed my mom about where they were going, how long they were staying and what time I could expect her to be home.

She told me that she couldn't imagine being out passed midnight as she looked at Elmo... who smiled and winked. Whatever THAT meant.

I went to bed early that night... for one reason, my grandma was not an exciting babysitter and number two, I figured the earlier I went to sleep, the less time I would have to worry about my mom being home safe and sound. I'd be sound asleep with my pillow wrapped around my head and my fan rattling on high looooong before my mom's midnight curfew.

At about one o'clock in the morning, I was awakened with a rare earache. Not able to go back to sleep, I thought I'd go wake up my mom. She'll know what to do. She always does.

I made my way to her room and switched on the light. She wasn't there. Her bed still perfectly made.

Where was she??? She was with Elmo and she was late! I was upset. No... I was FURIOUS!

I sat on the couch, arms folded... too angry to even watch television. 

My anger mounted as the hands of the clock made their redundant circular journey. One-thirty, two, two-thirty in the morning. How could she do this to me? My earache had long since subsided. The only thing that hurt right now was my heart.

Was I acting the part of a spoiled brat, upset that things were not exactly as I had wanted them to be? Or was my mom being insensitive to the needs of her youngest son who was navigating his way through a tumultuous time in his life? I struggle with that question even today. I would like to think that faced with similar circumstances as an adult that I would strike the proper balance with my actions. But then again... I love being a hero in my contrived hypothetical situations.

I began to hop up and peak out the curtain every few minutes... impulsively... obsessively... as though my frequent looks would speed up the process of her getting home. It didn't.

At about three in the morning, I heard a car pull up and the engine stop. I jumped up, slowly pulled back the curtain just enough to see Elmo's Oldsmobile parked in front of the house. 

Mom was home. My earache was gone. My anger dissipated. All was well with the world.

I ran into my bedroom and pulled the covers up and feigned slumber. I didn't want mom to know that I was waiting up for her. I lay there in eager anticipation of the front door opening. I waited... and waited... and waited.

After 15 or 20 minutes had passed, I got up and looked out the window. This time, I didn't peak through a crack, I flung the curtain open wide... hoping they saw me. The car was still there. Two silhouettes in the darkness. No evidence that they saw me looking at them.

I was seething! It was going on four o'clock in the morning and my mom was in a car... alone with a man. Elmo! What were they doing? 

Time for desperate action. The light switch that controlled the front porch light was a square knob that could be turned continuously in the same direction. 180 degrees and it went on... another 180 degrees in the same direction, it was extinguished. On, off, on off. I grabbed hold of that knob and begin turning it in the same direction... on, off, on, off, on, off... for five minutes... like a lighthouse beacon giving direction to a ship lost in the fog.

My embarrassment over pulling such a childish stunt was superseded only by my determination to send a message to my mother that she was needed by her son... now. I sat down on the couch, confident that my message was received... loud and clear. Mom would be coming in the door shortly.

I awoke as the front door opened and the early morning sunlight streamed across the living room. As my eyes focused, I could see the clock read a few minutes after eight o'clock. "You've got to be kidding!" I thought.

I started to explain what a dreadful night I'd experienced but my mom cut me off in mid-sentence.

"How could you embarrass me like that?" She asked angrily. "Turning the porch light on and off! If you keep acting up, Elmo may never ask me out again!"

Unfortunately, he did ask her out again but for some strange reason, I no longer cared. That night, my relationship with my mom changed and changed for good. I no longer clung to my mom. My world no longer revolved around her. 

Whether I was ready for this level of independence or not, I wasn't sure, but there was no turning back. I detached from my source of strength and comfort. I began to look for other things to fulfill the void that my mom had left.

This was not good news...