My Mother’s Inheritance: How to be a One Woman Island

It’s Mother’s Day and I stare at the accusing words as if I need to be reminded that someone brought me into this world. Sprint even texted me to call my mother, which I find unusual and annoying.

We’ve always been close, like a two headed beast, a parasitic form that harms the host. I’m the host until I moved thousands of miles away and breathed in freedom for the first time in my life.

I understand every little nuance that makes her who she is. I spent less than twenty four hours with her recently. It had been two years since we saw each other last. The last time I saw her she was telling me not to come back to where I lived. That it was a waste of money, she hadn’t asked for me to come to visit.

I came anyways, and thus that was our last time together. Her making sideways remarks about how it wasn’t her idea that I was there. While eyeballing my brother with a look I know all too well.

I remind myself to play nicely in her company. I know that she can itch her nails underneath the skin of my psyche. I repeat the words that I should stay calm and not get agitated.

We decide to make a run to a store. Shit hits the fan as I see her miss a step leading up into the structure. She lands, fully, on her face. Blood gushes from her nose.

“Mom, no, not again.”

I rush to her side. People pass those grocery cart cleaning towels to me. I press it against her nose.

“I need a mirror. It’s really bad, isn’t it?” She mumbles.

“You’re okay, it’s okay. This happens to everyone. Remember when I fell? I’ve fallen so many times.”

“You should of been the one on the ground. You had three Mexican Martinis.”

I laugh despite the situation. Yes, it is quite true that maybe I should have been on the ground. But, I saw that ledge and when I fall my ankle dislocates from the socket.

My mother repeats this fact of the martinis I’ve had to the Paramedics when they come. A man calls 911 and the Ambulance comes. A lady sits with me helping me with my mother. This woman is a kind stranger that reassures my mother with me that she’s fine. I don’t get her name, I make sure to tell her thank you repeatedly.

I’m covered in my mother’s blood. It dries and cakes on the inside of my wrist. I remember looking at it and not caring. My mother flinches and I'm brought back to this moment.

“It hurts with you putting pressure on my nose.”

“Yes, I know, we gotta put pressure on it to get the blood to clot. You fucked yourself up pretty good but you’re okay.”

“Is it broken? I need a mirror.” My mother repeats. She’s a gnarly mess of blood that has congealed and is still oozing. It comes from a deep laceration on the bridge of her nose. The paramedics ask her questions and I answer. They interrupt me to tell me that she should be answering them. I’m bashful and shut up, my brain works on survival and take charge mode.

I turn my phone on selfie mode to show her her face. My mother agrees to be shipped off on the ambulance which is a first in my life. My father stands nearby and doesn’t quite know what to do. I tell him to get in the car, I get my GPS instructions working, and we make our way to a hospital in a city I don’t live in.