I
She slammed on the brakes, jerked her car to parked, and jumped out and ran to the ambulance. The wailing noise of sirens were deafening and the bright red lights blinding. Using her arm as a shield to cover her eyes and ears, Rumor Harlowe Martinelli spotted her mom on the gurney. The paramedics were busy applying pressure to her
mother’s chest while counting, “One, two, three,” as they performed CPR while rushing her towards the ER. Rumor darted in that direction.
“Mom, I am here, please get through this. Please, Mom.”
Rumor screeched as she reached out to her mother while fervently fighting the
growing crowd to get to her mother’s side - jumping up and down occasionally to
make sure she did not lose sight of the gurney.
Rumor woke up gasping for air as she
jumped up and realized she’d fallen asleep in the hospital in the leather
recliner in the corner of her mother’s room - yet again. Sweat dampened her
brows and slid down her cheeks while forming rivulets on her neck. Her magenta, flowy crop top was damp. And as usual she was having nightmares about the
incident that caused her mother to be here.
She got up from the recliner and smoothed her
hair behind her ears and then fixed her messy bun even though she was certain
it was the messiest of buns at the moment. She avoided the mirror for this
process as she often did. Secretly she hated mirrors.
Her mom had taken a fall in an attempt to get to
the bathroom and had slipped and nearly broken her hip. Mom was too frail to
move around much. The radiation from the chemotherapy had weakened her immune
system and her bones. She had lesions on her tongue and her eyes were always
watery and as distant as a lagoon at night, but mom was and still embodied a
perfect beauty and an innate charm, even in her sickness.
While staring at her mother, she tried hard to
fight back the geyser of tears that threatened to shatter from her eyes because
she did not want to fall a part in front of her mother – it was the last thing
she needed. Smoothing the crisp white sheets on her mother’s bed, Rumor pulled
the Belle Maison diamond tufted powder pink chenille throw to her mother’s chin
and stepped away from the bed and began glaring out the window into the ominous
night.
“This is so not fair!” Rumor grimaced through
clinched teeth and fist as she struggled to make sense of it all. Her knuckles
were pale and perspiration formed on her forehead. She glared across the room
at the tall, lithe, nurse who was busy doing her duties – a vital check here,
pillow prep there, and a glance at the television. After she’d finished her final task from her
checklist, the nurse hung her clipboard on the wall and slipped out the door
quietly, as if she were also a ghost. Rumor smirked at the nurses horrendous looking
orthopedic shoes. It was the first time in days that she had even attempted a
smile. She then chastised herself for being sarcastic even if it was her
nature.
As the nurse faded out of sight, Rumor pondered
cynically.
Why did all nurses have to be so stereotypical –
tall and thin or short and plump – with glasses? No, you can’t forget the
glasses - small round copper frames that they often looked above the lenses of
to ask questions while jotting on their clipboards.
Alone, Rumor looked around the murky, sterile
room as she tried to make sense of it all.
The walls were a sullen off white which created an openness of space. It
reeked of excess chlorine and machines that made too much noise with names she
could not pronounce. There was a stiff cold that loomed in the air. She
listened intently to the intravenous drips as the ECG monitor sung a drab song.
This was a private room which meant no moans,
gripes, and complaints, from the next bed or pretentious interest from their
families and visitors. The golden-framed tulip oil painting on the wall was
both cheap and depressing with its frame peeling and a baby spider trying to
make a home in its corners. The once inspiring words of Henry David Thoreau
“Life is frittered away by detail,” were fading just as the patients’ lives
that come and go in this ward, a stark reminder of the fate that awaits. Grey
paneled curtains blew with the stale air as the air conditioner hummed along.
The curtains clung to life, violently dancing with the occasional curtsy. The
looming stench of death hung over the room like a dark cloud threatening the
sky. The mere thought sickened Rumor as a lump formed in her throat - her chest
tightened - she held back a brimming rage as she looked up at the fluorescent
light that flickered occasionally, another sign that life was imminent.
Her mother lie frail and lithe which caused Rumor’s heart to sank beneath her feet as she began to stroke her mother’s silver
hair and caught the glare of her wedding ring - even though it was nearly pitch black outside, the carats still illuminated
in Rumor’s peripheral vision – just as the love her parent’s shared. A pure,
selfless untainted love – one that had carried her mother for a lifetime even
after her father, Yam died.
Fingering the ring, Rumor slowly began lifting her
Mother’s hand. She leaned in to kiss her mother’s hand and then cupped it with hers as she
held it in silence. She began to daydream about the love her parents shared and
the affectionate respect and regard they had for one another. She
always wanted a love like her mother’s and
Yam’s love, but was love ever enough? She had been in love twice and both
relationships ended due to unfaithfulness on the behalf of her exes, so her
idea of love was tainted, skewed, and marred. She abhorred men and “love” but
the examples her parents set gave her an ounce of hope. She also hated God
because first he took Yam and now her mother’s life was slowly fading and since
she had no family besides her best friends, identical twins Addy and Allison,
she would be left to face the world alone.
Rumor hated hospitals but more than that, she
hated her mother was taking her last breath in one. Stupid cancer; it was
always claiming precious lives. And her mother was a devout Christian. It’s not
that Rumor felt her mother’s life was more valued over anyone else’s, it’s just
that it was her mother. Her mother had lived her life doing missions with Yam
and spreading her evangelical faith. Abrihet and Yam were perfect, and if
Christians had poster children, then she and Yam were the best models, posing
with their smiles across the world as they carried the Gospel to undeveloped
regions. They were the epitome of what a disciple was as they boldly traveled
the earth’s terrain sharing the glorious Gospel in unreached lands that many
had never heard of or known, just as their God had instructed them.
Sauntering over to her mother's bed, Rumor felt
underneath the thin sheets to entwine her fingers with her mother’s. Grasping her mother’s hand, she ran her fingers along the veins and began
praying silently to a God she no longer believed in. If there was a God, why
did he allow my mother to get sick? Why did he allow my father to die? If God loves
me then why is he taking everyone away from me? Her father had died five years
before from a massive heart attack. She
had no family, namely because her parents had her in their old age. She was
supposed to be their Issac, their blessing, yet she felt moreso like a curse.
Her Mom was 43 when she was born and her dad was 48. Her mom had suffered from
endometriosis which led to three miscarriages, yet she got pregnant a fourth
time and carried Rumor full-term. Yet, Rumor’s birth was just another uterine
issue as far as Rumor was concerned. After each surgical procedure, her
conditioned worsened from fibroids to endometriosis to ovarian cancer, Rumor
felt like her birth had led to her mother’s slow death. Rumor’s very presence
was an indication of every pain her mother battled within her body.
Rumor gently placed her mother’s frail and
lifeless hand at her sides, and began to softly caress her thinning grey hair. At that
moment, her mother opened her eyes. Pain and weariness were obvious but mother
managed to smile.
“Rumor, my love,” Mom moaned through coughs.
“Shhh-Shhh – Mom, don’t speak. Get rest.”
“Have I not been resting enough these past three
days in this barren, stale place?” Mom asked begrudgingly. Her mother hated hospitals as much as she did. So
her disgust was both viable and credible.
“Rumor, I have a request for you,” Mom said
through even breaths as she tilted her head to the side towards Rumor.
“Yes, Mom?” Rumor answered, moving in close to her
Mom and rubbing her cold hands in the hopes of providing warmth. Her veins were
protruding through her soft skin like vines along a building.
“When you leave here today,” her mother whispered
as she squeezed Rumor’s hand. “I would like for you to go home and pull back
the Venetian rug in my room and count from the middle of the television three
planks to the left and pull up the floor. Something awaits you there. When you
retrieve it, open its contents and divulge. Everything there belongs to you.”
“Sure, Mom,” she said as she fought back tears.
Her mother sounded so final in her request. And that is the thing with death.
Though it is inevitable we desire to prolong the lives of those whose life is
fleeting. And how selfish is that.
They’re suffering and we want to keep from suffering their loss by wanting them
to live longer - despite their suffering.
Exiting the hospital room, Rumor pulled the door to her
mother’s room shut – the room that housed the love of her life and the room
that the love of her life would inevitably take her last breath.
She paused outside in the icy, sterile hallway,
peeking through the glass door pane while watching the monitor beep as her
Mother’s vitals got lower. She fingered the room number 3-6-2-7 and looked
hastily at the white linoleum floor. Rumor couldn’t help but stare at the cold
floors. I wonder why all the floors in hospitals are
white? Rumor ponder. Perhaps so they can see if any fluids are on the floor or
any contaminants. She went out to the nurses’ desk, placed her palms down and
paused before putting her head down. Both nurses walked towards her.
“I know this is a difficult time, so I want you
to know we are here for you,” Diana whispered while giving Rumor’s palms an
affirming squeeze.
Janet came around the desk and hugged Rumor for
what seemed like an eternity but was only a matter of seconds. The two embraced
and they both cried silently. Janet pulled back, gripped Rumor’s shoulders,
looked her in the eyes and said “I’m going to check on my patients. Please know
we will provide the best care for your Mom. Now go get some sleep. Not rest,
but sleep.”
Those were the words she needed to hear because she had become the queen of
worrying and lately she had been suffering from insomnia, staying up in a daze most
nights, recalling and reflecting on life when mom was in good health. Rumorstarted for the elevator and pushed the
buttons signaling the first floor, struggling to fight back tears as the doors
chimed open.
“Good night, Diana and Janet. See you tomorrow,”
she nodded to the nurses as she pushed the button for the first floor and waited
for the elevator.
Diana and Janet had grown accustomed to Rumor staying with her
mother until the faint hours of the morning, so she was like family now. Diana
was a chatty young blonde with the figure of a supermodel, while Janet was
plump as a raisin with brimmed bifocals which rested on her pointy nose. She
was quiet, yet professional. She looked over her glasses when she talked and
pushed them up when she had to read. The two nurses sat behind the desk
rummaging through patient charts and talking a jargon Rumor barely knew or
understood. The elevator chimed and Rumor stepped in.
“Have a good night, Dr. Vauclain,” Diana and
Janet yelled through giggles while playfully slapping shoulders as the elevator
was closing, as a dark-haired male doctor dressed in a white lab coat, with a
patient file in his hand and a stethoscope around his neck barely caught the
elevator as it closed in on his shoe. He
and Rumor caught eyes and he smiled and looked up at the elevator’s ceiling a
humming and tapping his foot to the elevator’s music. Rumor returned a half
smile cowered in the back of the elevator, intentionally avoiding conversation.
The doctor got off at the fourth floor, which was the pediatric wing.
Interesting, she thought, why was he on the oncology ward? He sure was good looking with the body to match. Rumor gawked and
immediately grief consumed her as she thought of her mother lying lifeless in
the hospital bed creeped into her memory. She closed her eyes to pretend she was anywhere
but here and reality struck as the elevator opened. As she was exiting the elevator, she paused then kneeled because a small circular object glistening in the corner caught her peripheral vision. The elevator started closing so she hurried to pause it and turned her attention immediately back to the ring. She picked it up and examined it; it was a diamond ring whose sparkle was blinding as she held it close.
Rumor hated jewelry, but she had a co-worker, Michelle who was newly engaged and never ceased to let the entire studio know about it as she flashed her asscher cut ring in her co-workers’ face daily. She educated them all on the many diamonds so it was hard to forget and easy to identify them now. There was an inside joke that her fiancé got her the right cut – because she is a pain the“Ass”cher.
Rumor continued to study the ring. I wonder how
it got here. Did it belong to a patient? A nurse? The doctor? Rumor tried to
force her brain to remember if she saw the ring before the doctor got on the
elevator. Her memory failed her as she tried to recall because it all happened
so fast. He was a man, yet this is a woman’s ring. She mused. Hmmm….. Maybe surveillance could pick up if someone
dropped it - most surveillance was so grainy these days that it was hard to make
out people - so an object as small as a ring would be quite difficult.
She stepped out of the elevator, exited the
hospital, and continued to the parking deck. She fished around in her purse for
her cell phone. When she retrieved it, she spoke into the receiver, "Hey Siri."
"Yes," the intelligent phone assistant replied.
"Call Emory."
Obeying the command, the computer program dialed the hospital. Rumor knew she had to call now because she would forget over time - her long term memory wasn't the best.
There was no answer, so she left a voice mail.
She studied the ring once more, holding it up as it met the sliver of moonlight
that crept into the parking deck. The ring glistened, nearly blinding her. She
gently tucked the ring in the side pocket of her jeans and continued to her
car. The parking deck lights flickered with each step she made, -threatening to
darken the place at any moment. Her BMWi8 was alone in the parking lot
glistening like a sparkling red candy apple. Quickening her pace, Rumor pressed
the automatic car entry, opened the door and slipped into the driver’s seat
with a wide smile. She loved the new car scent and this was a reminder to
olfactory glands every time she entered her car. It was her first “adulting”
purchase and she was quite proud. She buckled her seat belt, started the engine,
adjusted the rearview mirror, and headed for home.
Feeling sleep deprived, she scanned radio
stations. She was not sure if she was truly searching for a song or just trying
to cloud her brain from thinking so much. No station was playing anything she
wanted to listen to, so she turned on her Bluetooth and listened to the “Carrie
Underwood” station. Rumor loved country music. Keith Urban’s “Stupid Boy” was
playing so she turned it full blast and battled singing along because she was
exhausted and sleep was calling. As she
neared a red light, Rumor closed her eyes and laid back on the headrest as
Keith Urban crooned, “Stupid Boy, you can’t fence her in. Stupid boy, it’s like
holding back the wind.”
“Bonnnkkkk,” blared the sound of a horn of an
angry driver shouting obscenities from behind which startled Rumor. She
realized she had fallen asleep at the red light and the urgency to get home
welled inside of her. The angry driver began pounding his fist on the
side of his car door and flashing his lights, as he continued to act
belligerent. Semi alert, Rumor accelerated and made for home. As she pulled up
into the driveway, Rumor got extremely nauseated. Her stomach made growling noises
and she could literally hear bubbles forming as she put the car in park. She
clenched the stirring wheel and her knuckles grew pale and her
hands sweaty as a male locker room.
Pulling into the driveway, Rumor tussled her golden, curly mane - shaking her
head profusely as she stared in the rearview mirror. “I look like a lioness,” she mumbled while
opening the car door.
She reached for her purse, stepped out the car,
and started for the front door. Feeling nervous and timid, she wondered what
could be under her favorite spot – the Venetian rug - in her Mother’s room.
Starting up the steps, the sound of cooing and purring could be heard in the dark. Seconds later, she saw a figure behind Mother’s plant - it was
a stray cat scurring along. For a moment, she stood in the doorway and engulfed
the summer breeze of the Georgia weather, as it was a rarity. Stepping inside,
she could hear the silent hum of the air conditioner as it pushed cold air
throughout the house.
This was the house Rumor grew up, though her
parents had it totally renovated when she was a teen. Mom and Yam took great
pride in the home partly because it was in Grant Park, the historic district of
Atlanta, GA and originally built in the early 20th century and remodeled in
1995 when Rumor was just a year old. It was a two-story Victorian era cottage
to the east of the park known for its distinctive landscape of rolling hills
and scenic vistas. The streets were lined with trees and an extensive sidewalk
system. The neighborhood’s inimitable lattice street pattern and narrow
rectangular lots made for a perfect makeshift play land for children.
Mom was big on gardening so
the front yard blossomed – they had installed an irrigation system and it
watered the plants at night. The big, circular drive way lead to a two-car
garage, which was a contributing factor to buying the home as mom was always
obsessed with Margaret Mitchell’s Gone
With the Wind. This house was home to Rumor. It held so many
memories of Mom and her father, Yam. Yam had died three years ago, and after he
died, it was never the same but she and Mom continued the Martinelli legacy and
traditions each holiday. Christmas breakfast, Easter brunch, Independence Day
BBQ, Fall Festival (Mom and Yam were devout Christians so no celebration of
Halloween or anything evil) which explains why Rumor snuck off to Mardi Gras
her freshman year in college and had the time of her life and never told Mom or
Yam. She giggled at the thought of her
being “rebellious” as Mom said. And it seemed it was a trait that would follow
her for years – even now.
Rumor walked over to the fireplace and began
fingering the black framed pictures Mom had aligned on the white wooden mantle.
The house was still and quiet; she could hear her own breathing.
The pictures had grown dusty because Rumor was
not great in the housekeeping area. She made a mental note to dust and clean
before Mom came back home. At least she had made an effort to do laundry. Right? She looked wantonly at the clothes and
towels spilling over a wicker laundry basket.
“Rumor dear,” her mother would start, “You had
better learn to do household chores …..”
“If I ever want a husband,” Rumor would finish.
She had heard this motherly advice since she graduated college. “Quite frankly
mom, the odds of a woman like me getting married are slim to none. And besides,
then I would be competition for you and Yam having the best marriage ever.” Even though Rumor had severe trust issues with
men, her mother insisted she give love a chance, but Rumor was hesitant and
resistant. She’d fallen in love in high school with Dillon Coltz and they’d
went to college together, only for her to arrive at his dorm room for a study
session and find him in bed with the college slut and cheerleader captain.
Three years later, as a senior in college she met and fell in love with Brad
Norman. They’d dated until she was 27 when she realized they were growing apart
– only to realize he was cheating on her with his high school sweetheart.
Her mom would look down at the ground. Yes, the
mere mention of Yam opened a floodgate for Mom. Rumor turned her attention back
to the pictures on the mantle. Mom was meticulous in all things so they were
perfectly lined and adorned with a frilled lace drape which hung like icicles.
She stood back from the fireplace, wondering if
her mother would make it through the winter. She glanced at the oak coffee
table which housed the family’s heirloom, a leather-bound Bible with gold foil
lettering that read Yosef Anatol Martinelli “Yam.” Rumor's mind began to
reminisce to the many Bible stories she had heard around the fireplace as Yam
narrated the story of Jesus being born and brought into Bethlehem. Those were
priceless memories she could never get back but wouldn’t bargain for the world. Tracing the picture of her Mom and Yam from their
wedding day with her index finger caused a smile to creep across Rumor’s face.
Their happiness was so apparent that it exuded off the picture and seeped into
your heart. She manuevered around a box on the floor and plopped into Yam's favorite black leather swivel chair - the one she used to love to spin in as a little girl.
“Okay, God. My mom is sick and I know it is
selfish of me, I want her to live at least one more Christmas. Can you please
do that for me? My goodness, she sobbed as she choked through her tears. God,
you’re supposed to hear my cry, right? You took Yam, now you have to take Mom,
too? She’ll never get to see me walk down the aisle - never hold her
grandchildren. It’s so unfair, God,” Rumor wailed as she melted into the chair
- her body crumpled and contorted. Suddenly, remembering her mother had told her to
go check under her favorite spot in the room, Rumor started towards her mother's room and as soon as she flicked the light switch her phone rang. She knew who it
was because of the ring tone.
“It’s the hospital,” she said as she raced to
grab her phone. Nearly out of breath from having to run to the other end of the
house, she breathed heavily into the receiver, “Hello.”
“Rumor, it’s nurse Diana from Emory Hospital. We
need you to come. There has been a change in your mom’s condition.”
“Please tell me that my mother is okay. I need to
know that.” Rumor yelled into the phone - her voice cracking with
each word. There was a slight pause on the other line and then Diana
reiterated, “Can you be on your way? All
I can tell you is there has been a change and we need you here.” Rumor dropped her phone inside her purse and hurried to
the door, as she fumbled to open it, she looked back down the hall to her mother's room.
"Whatever's under the Venetian rug will have to wait," she panted as the door slammed behind her and she bolted to her car.
