Mr. Black made his way through this busy town and toward home, after an extremely long day at work, where some peers and him drove all the way to the countryside for a work trip.
Along the way, Mr. Black had witnessed quite unusual scenes every few moments: A homeless cat predating a small bird; a woman slapping a man on his face with a loud BANG; and then a just-married couple driving stately past him in a decorated car, followed by other celebrating ones, through a narrow path the other drivers tried to make (a wedding celebration drive in traffic jam would be miserable); a barbarous fight between two young men breaking out-a few men tried to split the two apart, while few others joined the fighting themselves, each couple of them taking a side (Mr. Black laughed out loud without being able to control it at the sight of them); a couple of kilos down the road, a policeman restraining a woman and forcing her into the back seat of his car; a group of biking guys and gals speedily crossing the pavement and scaring people out of their way, obviously thinking that it would be a hilarious joke; a little girl with braided hair screaming and crying so loudly that-despite that the car’s windows were closed-it was painful for Mr. Black to hear, and her parents were trying to calm and hush her; an elderly clutching her chest with one hand and holding her husband’s hand with the other, frowning as though out of pain, and, as it seemed to him, she was having a heart attack. The most upsetting was of that elderly woman, making Mr. Black pray silently, wishing her peace.
It was a strange day, but Mr. Black had no idea that the highlight of his day, year and maybe life, was yet to come.
The sun was starting to lower, sinking in the horizon. Soon it would get out of the people’s view, after giving them enough light so they could fulfill their needs, but only leaving to light up somewhere else.
“Poor hardworking creature,” he said to himself, looking outside of the window. He checked his watch and swore under his breath; he had been on the road for much more than an hour. Although he was now only two streets away from his residence, the traffic was frozen, with a line of motionless vehicles reaching further than his vision that looked as though they were parked. And whatever was causing it, it did not seem that he was going to get home any time soon. Let alone that he was already feeling sick.
When the traffic got too slow every few moments and he got stuck, Mr. Black’s mind flew toward distinct destinations: At first he found himself thinking about his beautiful fiancé. Their engagement was already around a month ago, and the wedding date was soon to be decided. Not being able to help it, the image of her that he conjured to his mind forced him to smile broadly for a few moments. His wife to be, with the name of Lena, was a successful engineer, with a bright smile, almond green eyes, and most importantly, a big heart. They met a year ago, and since then became lovers. He only wished to spend more time with her, but work had limited his time to such annoying limits.
And thinking of work, Mr. Black was a hard working lad. He had a dream for himself, and, thanks to hard work, he was reaching it at an unbelievable speed. In no more than two years, hopefully and at the same rate of progress, all of his work would finally pay off; he will reach success, and would worry no more about what’s in his wallet, or about his social status. He would then live life in its wider dimensions-But is that truly your dream? A voice deep inside of him interrupted-and he would have more time to spend with his fiancé (or by then, wife), his friends who he hadn’t seen in a while, and the only family he had left-his mother….
An emotionally fragile, yet strong woman; an intelligent person, but also ill with mental disorder, as she saw illusions and heard imaginary voices; unstable in many ways, but very constant in her love for Mr. Black, who was, still is, and always will be her child. He had a sister, but died along with their father in a car crash. He was seventeen when it happened, and it turned his life upside down. The only one who was even more severely damaged by the tragedy was his mother, and the mental illness she had turned into a much worse problem, that she tried to suicide twice. So she was told to stay at home. He was obligated with the duty of looking after her, around the same time he was trying to build himself and solve financial difficulties. Yet he managed to do both, given the strength needed by rich love from his mother. His biggest fear, even bigger than the ones he had about his career, was that his mother would kill herself and succeed. However she was improving now.
Troubling questions popped up in his head: Did she take the pills? Did she find anything to eat? Did she hear the whispers today?....
He was two streets away from home when he saw what he believed was definitely the reason behind the deadly traffic jam: A fancy car lead, followed and surrounded by many police and government vehicles. It was, according to his guesses, a royalty of his country and a foreign president visiting (He was too busy to keep up with the news and had no idea what was happening in the world). Mr. Black heaved a very heavy sigh and leaned forward, bumping his head desperately into the wheel.
His thought wandered again, and again it brought his mother to his mind. In the past few months, he hardly had time to talk to her. Other than himself, she had very little contact with humans. Mr. Black felt bitter thinking about it and realizing how negligent he had been.
When he was seventeen, and when he heard about the car crash, his mother and him, with so much horror, rushed to the hospital. His sister was already dead, but his father was still breathing and they were just in time to say farewell. His last words to his son requested-not that Mr. Black had to be requested-to never leave his mother and to take care of her, because she was ill. It had been a challenging task; his beloved mother was unfortunately worthy of being called crazy, especially after their loss. She saw many doctors and took many pills, but it was time, the only medicine that helped her get better. Not that her mind was fine now, but that it was less disordered, and almost like what it had been before her grieve.
After what felt like an hour, the traffic started to gather speed. Mr. Black stepped on the gas pedal with exhilarating disbelief….he was only one street away from home now….
Fifteen minutes or so later, the long awaited view was seen; the building in which Mr. Black’s apartment was located in stood a few feet away from him on this busy street. It took a minute until he reached it and parked. He then hurriedly unbuckled his seat belt and stepped outside; cool air caressing his face felt refreshing. He stretched his arms, legs and neck, and took a couple of deep breaths. One sick, sick ride, he thought. He then headed to the buildings door and unlocked it with his key. It gave him a hard time and he knew someone had to fix it. At last he had managed to unlock it and then set off, ascending the narrow stairs; their apartment was on the fifth and last floor.
With no wish else than to eat and sleep, Mr. Black unlocked the apartment door and went in. It strangely smelled nice and of food, and he could see it was much tidier than it had been in the morning, and in months. It was also very quiet. Mr. Black walked around it, looking for his mother.
“Mom?” he called, just a few seconds before finding her in the living room; she was standing in front of the window, her thin figure silhouetted against the sunset’s bright orange light. Her back to him, she was staring through a gap between the two curtains. She turned slowly to face him, but moving her eyes with difficulty from the window.
“Oh, sweetheart, you’ve come late.” She said, smiling.
“Loads of traffic!” Replied Mr. Black, rolling his eyes.
“Well, come then; you must be hungry. I’ve made you your favorite soup!”
“You did?” He said, surprise in his tone; the last time his mother had cooked in might had been five years ago, and so he wondered if what she said was illusory.
However, she headed to the kitchen and motioned him to follow. “I saw you coming through the window and so prepared you a bowl-it’s still hot….”
And, shockingly so, she was right; a bowl of lentil soup was set on the table, and this had always been his very favorite-although the last time he had it was five years ago! Regret because he didn’t believe her was pinching his chest. Maybe that was a great sign that she was improving.
“Ahh, thank you!” He said as he sat down, his mother sitting across from him. “You’re not going to eat?”
“No, no, I ate a little while ago.”
Mr. Black gulped the first spoonful and it tasted so good, that it even cheered him up after all of today’s misery. In fact, it had just tasted like the one she used to make them many years ago. His mother was awkwardly watching him.
“I’ve had a very busy day,” he said, trying to start a conversation with her.
“I had an eventful day myself!” she said, making Mr. Black look up at her and raise his eyebrows; it sounded unusual. He didn’t say anything anyhow.
After he was done with a second helping, she strolled out of the kitchen and her son followed, feeling desperate to see how she had been doing, and to restore their old, close relationship. She went back to the living room, where the blinding sunshine no longer existed; it was dimly lit from the dusk outside. She pulled aside the curtains, opened the window and the window screen, while Mr. Black stood by the room’s entrance and watched. Then she leaned forward and rested her arms on the sill, looking up and taking joyous breaths, as if in enjoyment of the weather and breeze.
She turned around and beamed at him.
“When I went outside today-”
“Why on earth did you go out by yourself?!” he snapped angrily; she wasn’t supposed to leave the apartment by herself, it wouldn’t be safe for her.
“Well, of course, how else could I have got the ingredients?” She let out a small laugh and continued. “Anyway, I brought you this-”
Out of a drawer, she held a brown envelope and walked towards him, passing it to him. With eager for more delightful surprises, he took the envelope and opened it: It had a handmade wedding card, and his mother’s beautiful and old wedding ring that she always wore.
“Oh, mom-are-are you sure?” He burst out excitedly, raising the ring.
“I am.”
“You could have given it to me just before the wedding!” He said, still grinning.
“Oh, sweetheart, I don’t think I have the time…”
Not having a clue what that meant and guessing it was probably the voices she was hearing, he said, “I’m-er-free this weekend, and I thought you and I could do something fun, if you wish.”
Again she beamed at him, with a look of sympathy on her face this time.
“I would love to!” She said.
Silence fell on the room for a couple of moments, until Mr. Black’s mother broke it. “It’s getting dark out there,” she turned around to take a look at the window and then back to him. “All of these years, son, you have been taking good care of me. I wasn’t of much help, I know-I don’t even make my bloody bed in the morning-I’ve wasted much of your youth and time.”
Hurt by her words, and painfully wondering, am I the reason? Have I been so busy lately to care for my own mother? He quickly said, “No, don’t say that! You are my-youth!”
“That’s kind!” She said, still smiling. “But sweetheart I’ve been suffering myself, with all this-you know….”
It suddenly hit him that his mother was acting strangely….stranger than ever, and he started doubting if it was in a good way.
Using the same tone, she went on. “I have had great years with your father, your sister, and you, sweetheart. But then very bad ones, very dark, I daresay. The voices had taken me to places I had no wish to go to….they’ve been leading my life, and so it’s not truly mine-and it’s been exhausting….” She looked down and then up again, fixating her eyes on his face as the smile came back on. She took a few steps back and rested completely onto the window wall.
Blind of seeing what was really going on, Mr. Black watched her. He looked at her face and noticed how she had changed; more wrinkles were around her mouth now; the front of her red was turning grey; her back was hunching; and she moved slower than he remembered her before. How come I did not notice all of this before? He thought as guilt washed over him again.
She closed her eyes for a moment, and smiled again once she opened them. “Having a family is the best you can do in life, son-I am sure of it. You will have a great one with Lena!”
Awkward exchange of looks and silence happened again. Mr. Black’s mother broke it once more.
“Now don’t you ever go blaming yourself,” She told him earnestly, her smile weakened but did not fade. Mr. Black’s breath was becoming heavy. “You-you have kept me alive-the reason that I have tried to clench to life! On the contrary, you’ve kept me going!”
Now she got too close to the window, and his heart was beating hard and fast; what on earth was-
“I’m not sure I can make you understand, but I know that there could be no other way-there can’t be….”
Spotting them when they were already half way down her face, he saw a tear rolling down from each of her eyes. And then felt much thicker and wetter ones washing his face; he at last realized what she was about to do. His wet eyes widened in fear and his mouth was shaking.
“M-mom, close the window-d-don’t move…” He stammered, as he slowly tried to cross the room and get closer to her, to stop her in time….
“Oh, sweetheart-things will be better off, for both of us. I love, love you!”
Their eyes met, for what felt like forever as time had suddenly stopped, for a moment that was never to be forgotten-a haunting one….
And then, after a smile as wide as a smile can be, Mr. Black’s mother raised and pushed herself, with all the power she could muster, through the fifth floor’s apartment window.
Shock, despair, grief and frustration were injected into his veins all together, creating some sort of burning and paralyzing syrup. He let out a gasp at first, but nothing else he had the strength to do. He stared at where his mother stood just a few seconds ago, as though it was only a ghost that had suddenly vanished.
And suddenly, he felt as though he was drowning, very cold substance filling his lungs. It was burdening him, forcing his body to collapse within a few moments. Mr. Black fell to his knees, not taking his eyes from where his mother stood shortly before. The truth and reality of the present contradicted viciously with the recent past, and-as what the past and present ought to do-did not come out as one piece in his head; his mind was spinning. What had happened was already a memory, and on and on it played in his mind’s eyes, like a movie.
Without really thinking, and with the brief loss of sense he was going through, Mr. Black could come up with one thing to do. Just like his mother, it seemed like the right and only thing to do. So he arose and ran-tears pouring from his eyes-toward the window….following his mother, sister and-
CRACK!
Because it was almost dark now, he didn’t notice the chair in his way as he darted to the window. So he tripped over it, once again falling to his knees. He panted for a bit, as he slowly recovered some of his thought and sense. He had never been so damaged in his life before.
I can’t, he thought, and started to sob. He was about to have a beautiful wife, he had many valuable friendships, he had dreams, and he had a warm hope for a future family…. A somewhat sudden feeling made its way to him; for the first time in his life, Mr. Black felt that he was living, and not in the usual sense. He saw someone travelling from life and into death, in a split second; he had witnessed the thin line between the two. And he felt life stirring in him. He abruptly came to understand how everything in this world exits one moment, and then ceases to in the following, and only the memories remain-as well as love. Suddenly and because of his mother’s death, being alive appeared more clearly to him.
Still facing storms in his insides, he stood up and clasped the wedding cards. He opened it and read. It was her shaky handwriting. She was alive then, but now she was dead.
Dear Adam,
I wish you all the happiness a man can find in a family. You will be a wonderful husband and a splendid-as I hope-father. Although it hurts to think that I won’t be at your wedding, I had no choice. Please hang on tight to love. Despite my mental sufferings, I had held tight to you, my love, as long as you have truly needed me. I am sure you will set off to a wonderful after the wedding. Don’t ever feel bad for me.
Love, always, Suzan
Pray to God so that he would grant me forgiveness.
Mr. Black read the letter again, and again, and again for the third time, crying like a child as he did. His beloved mother had left, but he did not feel angry at her.
Wiping his tears with his sleeve and wrapping his arms around his shattered body, Mr. Black descended the buildings stairs quickly, heading toward what was left of his mother, determined to take care of her-one last time….