l of their faces. No one smiled in any of those portraits, anyway. Back then, they didn’t believe smiling was dignified or something. At least, that was what Cassie had told me, but right now, I desperately needed a smile.
Instead, I had only these somber faces. I sat there sinking deeper and deeper into my own troubled thoughts and staring at the grandfather clock. Mother always said, “A watched pot never boils.” Well, that seemed true for time, too. Hours seemed more like days. I dozed off once or twice and rose on tiptoe to the windows to look out. Fortunately for us, we were having a beautiful Kentucky day. There were only a few scattered clouds, and the breeze looked as gentle as could be.
I looked at the program Cassie had given me and tried to pretend I was there at the gala. I heard the music when it was scheduled to begin. I imagined the crowds, checked off the list of speakers as the hour passed, and envisioned Daddy standing there looking like a president. I could easily see Cassie at his side, making sure every little thing was done correctly. And then I thought about Uncle Perry and imagined his disappointment in my not being there. Maybe when he complained, Cassie said something nasty to him.
I got a little hungry just after one and went to the kitchen to eat some cheese and crackers. I hoped Mother had already eaten the sandwich Cassie had brought her. When I went up in about an hour, I would make sure she ate it if she hadn’t. I would insist and ask her to do it for me.
The last hour seemed to take the longest. I thought about calling Cassie and even Daddy but decided not to interrupt anything, and besides, they probably wouldn’t hear their cell phones ringing. When the grandfather clock bonged two, I rose quickly from the sofa and headed to the stairway, rehearsing all that I would say to calm Mother down and then even apologize for having had to fool her like this. I would justify it by explaining, as Cassie had, that Daddy would have been too upset to enjoy his gala opening otherwise. I was sure she would understand.
I moved as quickly as I could so she would not be frightened at the sound of footsteps. When I looked in on her, I saw she was lying and staring up at the ceiling just as she had been doing when I had first seen her this morning, and, just as I had suspected, she hadn’t eaten her sandwich. In fact, it was still wrapped.
“Mother,” I called, and started toward the bed. She didn’t reply or turn to look at me. “Mother, I’m here. I didn’t go,” I began. “I see you haven’t eaten, either.”
I unwrapped the sandwich and put it on the plate.
“You have to eat something, Mother.”
She didn’t turn to me. I paused. Something was different about her. I put the plate down and touched her arm. It felt cold. I shook her.
“Mother!”
She didn’t move.
It struck me first in the stomach and then moved up my body like a sheet of ice, freezing me so that I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak, either. Gradually, by inches at a time, I lowered myself to lean toward her and put my lips to her cheek. It was like kissing a statue. My eyes went to the night table and the bottle of tranquilizers. It was over on its side. I picked it up and looked in it.
It was empty.
And Mother was gone. She had taken them all at once. It felt as if someone or something was beating on my bones. The reverberation shook my very brain.
I looked at Mother’s tranquil face and her glassy eyes staring at nothing. Her mouth was slightly opened.
The screams I heard sounded as if they were coming from outside the room, coming from someone else.
When they were actually coming from me!
Sorrow
I FUMBLED FOR the phone. My fingers seemed detached, but I managed to tap out Cassie’s cell-phone number. It rang and rang and rang until her answering service came on. I didn’t want to talk to some machine, so I tried to call again, and again it rang and rang, and again the answering service started. I sat there for what must have been close to a half-hour, calling continuously, crying, hanging up at the sound of the answering service, and calling again. Finally, she answered, and for a moment, all I could say was, “Cassie.”
“What is it, Semantha? Daddy has just introduced the governor. We’re running a little late. Semantha?”
“It’s … Mother …”
“What about her? Hey, don’t move that, please. We want that there!” she shouted at someone. “What, Semantha? You didn’t go up too early and get her upset, did you?”
“No, I waited, Cassie. Cassie …”
“What, already? By the time you tell me why you’re calling, I’ll be on social security.”
“She’s not moving; her eyes are open, but she won’t move, and she feels cold.”
Cassie was silent.
“Cassie, did you hear me?”
“What are you saying, Semantha?”
“I think … Mother’s dead. The pills are all gone. The bottle is empty. She took too many pills!”