There she lay

By Sandra

There she lay, under the pink eiderdown, her face slack, cheekbones hollowed, mouth open. For a long moment Amy thought she’d arrived too late, but then she saw the almost imperceptible rise and fall of the chest. Still alive, then. Leo had said she’d be too late if she left it any longer, but no, the old bag was still going and would probably keep them all waiting on her, if history was anything to go by.

Well, Amy wasn’t going to wait on her; she had made that decision an age ago and the small matter of her death was no reason to change that in her mind. Amy tapped her fingers on her leg and sighed, ‘Well. I came, I saw and all that. I’m off.’ Leo turned from the bed, her face showing the shock she plainly felt, ‘Amy, you only just got here.’ She stood up and crossed the small bedroom, her long floral dress and white cardigan, fitting in seamlessly with the flowered wallpaper, and Lladro ornaments on the bedside table.

She took Amy’s arm and gently ushered her out the door. In a soft voice, she said, ‘Mum is dying, Amy. I know you had your differences, but…’ she began.

‘Differences,’ Amy said, and gave a broken laugh, her voice mocking, ‘is that what we are calling it? It’s called narcissism in my book. Not exactly mother of the year, was she?’ She flung her arms up, frustrated as always whenever the subject of Sherri -she didn’t deserve the moniker mum or mother– came up.

Leo sighed and stroked Amy’s arm, ‘I know, I know, ok. I know you had it worst, but you weren’t the only one to suffer, you know. I was there too.’  Amy bit her lip; it was true, after all. Whilst she and Albie had left home as soon as possible, Leo had stayed. Of the three of them, Leo had always been the gentlest, never losing her temper. Not like herself. She remembered the screaming rows, slammed doors and tears. No, Leo had taken whatever Sherri had thrown at them and let it wash over her. She had done the dutiful daughter act, as Sherri got older and, if possible, an even more irascible old bat.

She blew out a breath, in admission, ‘I know, and I still don’t know how you could stand it.’

Leo gave a wry grin. ‘Well, I never rose to the bait as much as you and Albie. Maybe you were too like mum.’

Amy eyebrow’s rose in disbelief that Leo could compare them,  let alone dare say it, then she saw Leo’s smile.

‘I could kill you,’ she said, her eyes narrowed in a mock death stare, then she smiled and pulled Leo into a hug. ‘You’re a bloody saint staying here. Alright, I’ll stay…’ Leo’s face lit up ‘…but only until I can’t stand it anymore, then I’m out of here, whether she’s dead or not.’ Leo nodded and mouthed, ‘thank you’.

—

Sherri’s breathing had got harder in the last few hours, and the nurses had said it wouldn’t be long now. Amy sat at the back of the room, as far from the bed as she could, while Leo held Sherri’s hand, murmuring softly to her every now and then.

‘Can you try him again?’ Leo asked.

Amy closed her eyes in exasperation, ‘He’s not coming, Leo.’

‘Please.’ There was a pleading note in Leo’s voice.

Amy sighed, but dialled Albie’s number again. As before, it rang until the voicemail chirped, ‘You missed me darling, leave a massaaaage and I’ll decide if you’re worth it.’ Amy rang off before it was time to speak.

‘No answer.’

Leo shook her head, ‘He’ll regret it. It’s his last chance.’

‘His choice, Leo. He’s a grown man, he knows what he’s doing.’

Leo turned, searching Amy’s face, ‘Does he? Really? I don’t think so. I know she was…difficult, but she is our mother, after all is said and done.’ She shook her head, and standing, said, ‘Oh, I give up. Coffee? I need something.’ Amy nodded and Leo left, stomping down the stairs, leaving her and Sherri alone.

Their brother Albie had fled to London as soon as he turned sixteen and never looked back. She met up with him once or twice a year, but they never talked about home and he had never asked about Sherri.

She looked over at Sherri, even she could tell it wouldn’t be long. Her breathing was more laboured, hard to listen to. ‘You were never going to go easily, were you?’ Amy muttered and wondered yet again why she was here. There was little love lost between her and Sherri. She had never been a nurturing mother; on the contrary, her message could best be summed up as ‘Life is a bitch, best learn to harden up before it bites you.’ To every skinned knee or fall, it was ‘Stop whining. Slap a plaster on it.’ Or, when she was bullied at school, ‘So it hurts, smack her back and keep going until one of you is down.’ Then she’d light her fag, take a drink, and laugh mirthlessly. Her mouth was perpetually pulled downward in a miserable smirk at life.

When Amy watched TV, or went to a friend’s house, she couldn’t equate those mothers with Sherri, who was like a separate species. Remote and distant, sometimes cruel and hurtful, Amy never knew what went on in her head. She drank a lot, and that led to the shouting and the cruellest cuts. Amy shook her head to clear the thoughts of a past she didn’t like thinking of.

So, here she was watching her mother dying and feeling nothing.

Or at least that’s what she told herself, looking at Sherri’s face as it struggled for breath. The nurses may have said it wouldn’t be long now, but they didn’t know Sherri. Amy could imagine her sitting up at any moment and saying, ‘I saw Death and I gave him a kick right up the arse. I’ll go when I’m good and ready.’ And knowing her, she would demand Amy find a ‘special’ coffee for her. A normal coffee, of course, with ‘just a little something to keep the chill off’ her chest.

Was it bad to feel some relief that it would all be over?

Amy continued to watch Sherri’s chest rise and fall. It looked like hard work, and she was amazed at how long Sherri could keep it up, despite her delicate body.

Time oozed past, then there was sudden hitch in the breathing. Amy tensed, was this it? then relaxed as Sherri’s breathing resumed.

It happened again, then resumed. The frequency was increasing, and she thought it would happen any moment; what was taking Leo so long? Another hitch and a longer time before Sherri breathed again. Despite herself, she came closer to the bed. Sherri looked so frail, that despite herself Amy felt a surge of sorrow. Where had that come from? She didn’t care about her. She didn’t. Sherri had been horrible all Amy’s life. And yet, her hand reached out to Sherri’s, brushing the paper-thin skin, then clasping it with her own.

Now she held on tightly to Sherri’s hand, and despite the resentment and bitterness, she felt tears come. Another hitch and she willed Sherri to breathe again. Another breath. She relaxed slightly, but knew Sherri was dying. Where the hell was Leo? Another hitch and unconsciously she moved her head closer to Sherri’s, transfixed by this struggle, their hands clasped as if to keep Sherri tethered on this plane.

Amy felt a wave of dizziness, the emotions getting to her, with the stark fact of Sherri, dying, here and now. It was happening, even if it was incomprehensible. The dizziness increased and she felt faint, her consciousness moving beyond herself, as though she was having some sort of out of body experience, her mind coming untethered from her body. What was happening? Now she could see them as if from outside her body, saw herself leaning over Sherri, and both felt and saw tendrils of a mist coming out of herself, drifting like clouds of almost invisible smoke, and the same from Sherri. She was an observer now, she couldn’t direct this, even if she wanted to. Their tendrils moved towards each other, touched and –

-she felt the icy shock as her feet landed on a stony lane and she saw Sherri beside her, staring ahead down the dark narrow track, bounded by trees encroaching over the road. Before she could speak, Sherri started walking down the track, face forward with intent. Where was this place? A dream, obviously, but too real for a dream. What she could see of the sky between the branches was a clear black, no stars visible, even though she couldn’t see any clouds. From somewhere beyond the trees, a sick yellow light gave some illumination. Where was this?

‘Sherri? Sherri?’ she tried to get her mother’s attention, but Sherri kept walking. She pulled Sherri’s arm, making her turn, and Sherri stood facing Amy, but there was no recognition or awareness in her eyes. Amy was scared, what was happening?  Where were they? As soon as she released Sherri, Sherri started walking again.

She was obviously dreaming; she’d heard of waking dreams, where you supposedly knew you were dreaming. This must be one. And if you knew you were dreaming, weren’t you supposed to be able to wake up?

‘Wake up!’ she shouted, to herself and Sherri, but the sound was duller than expected, as if there was less air here than normal. ‘Wake up!’ she shouted again. Above and around them, there was the swish the branches moving, and she looked up at the trees in time to see the branches swing back to their position, as if something had moved rapidly through them. Without knowing why, she felt instinctively that she shouldn’t shout again. She hurried to catch the still walking Sherri up. The road took a bend to the left and beyond, they walked on into an open space, the trees falling behind them, a large field on the right, sloping down away from them. Sherri reached a gate and opened it and Amy, helpless, followed. The field was huge, stretching away from them in all directions, even from the way they had just come, the boundary of the road now a half a mile away, dimensions altering as they did in dreams.  

From the edge of the field, it had appeared empty, but now Amy noticed people in the field, all staring down the slope, standing apart from one another, quiet and still. The sense of fear increased, her skin prickled, and her heart beat faster. She knew, without knowing how, that Sherri shouldn’t walk towards them.

In the centre of the field, she saw the cloaked figure of a man, his back to her, a figure she was sure wasn’t there a second ago, standing tall, his arms raised, looking down the slope of the field. Her fear which had been steadily growing now screamed at her. ‘Sherri,’ she said urgently, trying to grab her mother’s arm. ‘Sherri!’ she hissed. Sherri continued walking at the same pace, unstoppable, relentless. ‘Sherri,’ she said again, louder, then froze. As before, she sensed  rather than knew, that the figure had become aware of her. ‘Please, Sherri.’ There was nothing she could do; instinct forbade her from getting closer to the figure, as if he was the centre of a dark sun, that would incinerate anything that came within his orbit. Desperate with fear for herself and her mother, she screamed,

‘MUM!’ A word she had never used her life.

Sherri stopped, and half-turned, ear cocked, as though some distant echo had reached her. From the side, Amy could see her mouthing something, a word over and over again. She leant in, ‘Sherri, Sherri. What is it?’

With a speed she had never seen her use in life, Sherri snapped her head around, looked at Amy and said, ‘Run!’

She heard noises before she woke, someone shouting, calling her name. She tried to open her eyes, but they seemed gummed together and too heavy to lift. But that didn’t matter, because she was warm and comfortable, right where she was. She must be dreaming. She had been dreaming of something…what was it?…She had a flash of a dark road, and she gasped, eyes opening in panic. 

‘Amy!’ Leo was on the floor next to her, a look of deep concern on her face. ‘Thank God.’ She sagged with relief. ‘What happened? I came back and found you on the floor. And Sherri…mum…she’s…gone’ Leo gave a sob, ‘She’s gone.’

Amy sat up slowly, wincing as a pulsing headache made itself known and her stomach heaved, before settling. She moaned, she didn’t feel good. At all.

‘What happened?’ Leo asked again.

‘I don’t know. I was with Sherri. I was holding her hand.’ Amy said, voice low so her head wouldn’t thump as hard.

‘Holding her hand?’ Leo said, eyebrows raised in question.

‘Yeah. Well, you know…’ Amy said. Her throat felt scratchy and raw as if she’d been shouting. ‘And then…nothing. I must have fainted.’ She gave an ironic laugh. ‘Overcome with feelings.’ She pulled herself up using the chair.  

 ‘Careful. Sit down,’ Leo guided Amy into the chair. ‘I’m sorry it took so long. I just needed some time on my own.’ Leo said, looking guilty. ‘Anyway, I came back and found you on the floor, out cold and…Sherri – mum – dead. I’ve called the doctor, so he’ll be here soon.’  

‘God, Sherri would have loved this,’ Amy said, rolling her eyes, ‘Me, fainting – just as she dies. What an exit.’

—

She stood in the back door watching the sky lighten towards dawn and smoked a cigarette. Always such a guilty pleasure, taken while Sherri was alive, at the bottom of the garden, with Sherri watching gleefully from the living room window. She hadn’t liked Amy or any of her children smoking, despite going through at least twenty a day herself, so would make it as miserable as possible for them, even in the cold winter, watching Amy in the shed doorway, shivering. What she hadn’t realised was Amy treasured those moments, even if she was bundled up in thick coats, socks and scarves, it was her moment of peace and contemplation, away from Sherri. Now she smoked at the boundary of the house. A third of it hers now, she mused. Leo was wondering if she could stay in the house, buy the others out, and Albie had said he wanted nothing from Sherri. Details to be worked out, along with the funeral arrangements. She listened with half an ear as Leo talked on the phone to the undertakers, the odd word filtering into the kitchen: family flowers only, favourite hymns, etc, then she tuned it out, and blew smoke out to the garden. She would give up soon, she promised herself, when things were more settled, after the funeral. She wasn’t sleeping well, with the organising to do, decisions to be made.

And, she admitted reluctantly, the dream. Every night since Sherri had died, it returned. Admittedly, not like the first time, that strange dream with the quality of a real memory. These felt like normal dreams, almost, but filled with dread feelings and Sherri, always walking forward towards that man, like she belonged there, like there was no other choice. And the man himself. Amy shivered, put the cigarette out and walked back in. If she didn’t sleep soon, she could always get a couple of sleeping pills from the doctor. She hated taking drugs, but she was exhausted.

But underneath these thoughts was the knowledge sleep wouldn’t come any time soon, if only because she got closer to the man in every dream she had.

—