Joaquine Joaquine.com – Essays, Short Stories, and more.

A life

Author's Note: This is another short story that still in some early drafts but as it stands is complete. I presented it on some workshops and it was very helpful. I took many suggestions  and I can always improve. Please leave your comments about the story, and I always look forward to critism. Enjoy.

- Joaquine

Life

 

She takes long and slow breaths. She looks at the hands in the clock moving ever-so-slow and it seems like the little red second hand is struggling to make the minute hand move and the minute hand is pushing gently the big black hour hand forward to 11 o’clock. Her concentration on the clock is interrupted by a knock at the door.

            “We are ready for you Ms. Vane,” a nurse says.

            Ms. Vane gets up and opens the door by the cold steel handle and nods at the nurse.  She follows the nurse and looks down at the color lines that are along the floor. Some are blue and others brown and there are even some red maybe for emergencies, she thinks.  Nurses in dark red and pink scrubs zoom by her with piles of steel charts and stethoscopes around their necks.

            Odors of ammonia and chlorine get stronger as the nurse and Ms. Vane approach the surgery room; it looks more like an execution chamber.  They walk in. The nurse takes Ms. Vane to a small room just before the main surgery room.  Ms. Vane feels the cold stethoscope against her skin as the nurse is checking her pulse and her blood pressure with the little pump.  She breathes heavily and tries to calm herself down. She can hear some people from the surgery team laughing at the distance and she can also hear the stereo on the background playing Requiem by Mozart. She remembers the name of the song because her brother loved listening to it and she hated it.  She gets lost into the music and she feels as if time has stopped; she can almost feel every heart beat inside her and also she feels the very little heart inside her for the first time.  She sighs.

            The nurse finishes her check-up and leads Ms. Vane to the main surgery room.  There are six people already waiting for her with green scrubs and green aprons from their neck to their feet like butchers.  They speak in whispers behind their covered mouths.  The room is dark except for the operating table where Ms. Vane is lying.  The lights from the lamps are so bright that she does not know who is putting the saline solution in her left arm in the sea of white latex hands. A pair of green eyes appears above her and later a thing that looks a mask of gas is put over her mouth. She slowly falls into a deep dream.

            In the dream everything is too bright for her eyes. She covers her eyes and slowly her eyes begin to adjust to the light. Everything around her is pure white as if the place was covered by clouds. A brown burnished door appears in front of her. She puts her hand on the golden handle, and takes a deep breath before opening it. She opens it and steps in. A dark hall lit by candles and a red carpet adorn it. She feels her blood rushing from her head to her toes and her heart beating faster and faster with every step she takes.          

            At the end of the hall she sees light coming out of a mid-open door.  She rushes to see if anyone is there and swings open the door, but she finds no one.  The room looks like a mini-library with rows and rows of books on shelves against the walls. In the middle of the room there is a desk with piles of books and notes. She picks up a book that reads, Moms for Dummies, and another that has in golden letters How to make Mom Smile.  Among the notes she finds one that has as a title Plans but the long list seems to have been stroked out. 

In the middle of the desk in front of the burning candle she finds a white envelope with her name on it; To Ms. Vane. She sighs and with trembling hands she opens the envelope. Inside it a neatly folded letter resides. She takes it out and unfolds it. She closes her eyes and takes quick breaths. Her hands sweating and her heart pounds as she begins to read the letter.

“Dear Mother, perhaps I will never speak with you, but today I want to say “Hi” to you. How are you?

I have noticed that you are very anxious and I know that you already have decided to separate from me. I have cried because although I am still very little, I have very strong feelings. And you know that you have told me that life is very beautiful, although you live cursing yours. Before you leave me, I want to ask you something. Why were you ashamed of me? Why did you insist that you and I separate? I was the cause of your tears, of your wrath and of the shameful face that you showed in front of your "friends". I am sorry mom for those moments you passed.

Perhaps I am not your son. Perhaps I am not blood of your blood, and soul of your soul; although in a moment, my small heart will not beat next to yours. I will always continue living in your memory and your conscience.

I would have liked to have been your son, your friend, your companion, the reason for your dreams or the breath of your life, but you did not want it.

Sincerely,

Your son”