Mother died this morning, mother still looks the same. If only I had one more week with mother, just one more week. To settle, just to settle, nothing else. Mother looks different this morning, mother looks so different that even the mirror, the mirror feels it. The mirror in the hall, the one I look at before I leave the house. I was sure it looked like it was melting, but how could it? And the walls, sometimes the walls move like water. Especially when I shut the doors, the water ripples along the walls, sometimes I think the floor feels like the sea. And I can’t get me bearings, like I’m on a ship. And I can’t get me head right because mother died this morning. The clock on the wall looks different now, different than how it looked yesterday, probably because mother died this morning. I dressed mother, then sat her upright, in her favourite chair. The make up was awkward, it didn’t go on like it normally did, she felt hard, like a mannequin. But I kept patient, just like mother taught me, another coat, thicker this time.
She could be sleeping, if you squinted. But as the minutes turn to hours she looks less and less like mother. And as every minute passes I feel mother disappear further from existence, I look at the glass case full of medals, all the running but I never really moved, all the running but I’m still in the same place. Still here with mother because mother died this morning. You’ll catch your death mother used to say. I put me scarf on, it saved on the heating. Mother used to say get your coat on son. And I’d say why, where are we going mammy? and mother would say nowhere son, I’m switching off the heating. I’d laugh even though I was freezing. She could be a tight aul one all the same, even hiding the food around Christmas, keeping it for herself for later in the year. I switched on the TV taking the control from the trophy shelf, the one that looked sleek and modern years ago, but now looked out of date, tacky along with the faded gold painted medals. The ones from track and field, trinkets from what seems like a lifetime ago, from another person.
I hear a bang in the hall, I open the door, realise it’s just the postman as I see envelopes lay on the tiles of the porch. I shut the door, I shut it again, sometimes it doesn’t click right and opens by itself. I go back inside and finish me tea with mother. Are you OK ma? The room is silent.
Did you have a good sleep I ask her, it was windy last night wasn’t it? I switch channels, mother didn’t reply. Coronation street, Mother loved it all the same, Ken Barlow she said, he never aged. Do you want any more tea ma? Mother was giving the silent treatment again.
Day 2
Mother died yesterday morning, but the walls are OK now thank god, and the mirror. I found mammies handbag, and her purse. I found me tablets as well bleesed to Jaysus. It’s hard getting mother out of the bed this morning, like her body has no spring, like it she has one unmovable posture, she’s a terrible woman all the same but after a bit of lifting, and pushing, then lifting and pulling, a few loud cracks here and there and she’s back down having breakfast with me watching this morning. I put on an extra layer of make up, one on me, two on mammy, and her colour looks a lot better now. I hear her voice somewhere in the house. You’re a good boy she says, you were always a good boy, and I open the aluminium film and take me tablet with a sup of tea. Tomorrow I’d better go for breakfast, to the auld ones, just to show me face. They could be suspicious auld ones, even worse than me own. But I’d have to show me face, just in case they thought something was up. They’d come knocking, they were cunts like that.
I made mother tea and toast, but she didn’t touch it, we watched the sound of music on one of those free to air stations. The tablets keep the house from spinning, I’ll need a new prescription soon. The day silently turns to night. Mother sleeps, all day.
Day 3
Taxidermy, I couldn’t remember the word, there is a documentary on one of those free to air stations that nobody watches. An older man, a retired farmer stitches together a dead fox. He has a strange accent, Cornish I learn as he eventually talks about the old mills of Cornwall close by. He stitches a fox back together expertly, the sound of the prick of the needle, entering the leathered, lacquered carcass had a relaxing sound, and the sewing thread followed it. I almost felt meself drifting off for a moment. What do you think of that Ma? Mother didn’t reply, she didn’t sleep well last night, she kept calling, but when I saw to her she fell back to sleep again.
It was a nice morning, I eventually found out who the taxidermist was after ages searching online. The wall drips with water, yesterday the walls were dry. Which reminds me it’s time for me medication. It tastes bitter on me tongue but the water washes it away, along with reality sometimes.
The ripples along the walls lay flat and the water is calm again. I begin to get dressed, some of the clothing was mothers. Her make up, its perfumed smell gives me a headache. I take her floral beige scarf from the coat rack. I give meself one last look in the mirror, a man in a dress with make up on looks back.
It feels strange walking down the street again, but stranger now in mothers clothes. The first person I walk passed, an older woman doesn’t even notice me. This gives me more confidence in me stride, then I see three teenage boys walking towards me. They start laughing, I focus on one of them, holding eye contact and mumbling the word cunt over and over again. He looks away, they stop laughing the closer I get. Until there’s silence, I move on, towards Annes cafe. When I got there, there is silence, just the echo of the bell that dinged anytime someone opened the door.
I find a seat, relax for a moment, I never stop running, all I ever seem to do is just running. Then I see the aul ones down the back. Maggie winces, not really sure if she’s seeing me or not, she eventually waves me over.
I roll me eyes and pull meself up, I walk over.
How ya Mary?
How ya James? How’s your Mammy keeping?
Mammy’s under the weather, a bit of a dose I said.
Mary and Mags look at me like I’ve ten heads.
Then I realise I’m still dressed as a woman.
I have to go Mary, lovely seeing you. Cheerio.
I turn fast, banging into a table, almost toppling it over, I hear the tuts, the gasps.
I’m out on the street again, the bell rings as the door closes behind me, I’m moving, fast, have to get home to Mother. I run, a burly looking man is up ahead talking on the phone, I’m running fast but he doesn’t seem to be moving.
Get the fuck outta the way cunt I said.
I can see by his eyes surprise and fear, he doesn’t reply, just keeps walking.
I get home and put on the kettle. How are ye Mammy? But mother doesn’t reply.
I’d have to move soon, those auld ones could be nosy bastards.
Day 7
Its the smell, it gets into everything. It gets into your clothes, the food and the furniture, it even follows you for a time when you leave the house. The smell, it even gets into your cigarettes, in your hair, under your nails, your fingers, the cups, the plates and forks, the fucking smell gets into everything. I hear the auld ones knocking outside, nosey cunts. I stay in me chair, I let them knock.
Day 14
The needle makes a sound as it goes into the skin, skin that’s now leathery, the thread follows, it makes a satisfying sound. I hear the auld ones knocking, I don’t answer, just let them knock. Are ye there Mary? Mary are you alright Mary? If you need anything let us know Mary. We’re worried about you. I let them mumble through the window and the door that doesn’t answer some more until they disappear. There was no time for chat, nor excuses. Today was going to be a busy day. Today I’d keep mother with me forever.
Day 15
I am really enjoying the new DIY taxidermy collection I’ve just bought on DVD. He’s a man with a relaxing quality about him, his name is Edmund Wallace, he has a Cornish accent so he tells us. He sews a thread, pricking the lacquered skin, piercing the badger carcass. The sound is relaxing, so relaxing mother is asleep. The needle pierces, it goes in then out and the thread follows. And his relaxing whispering Cornish accent, threading in, then out, in and out like so. Mothers looks just fine, unfortunately I’ll have to disembowel her soon. The smell is about to get a lot worse.
Day 20
It’s been a hard few days, the cleaning, cutting wiping and removing, scooping, stitching, staining, bleeding, even if it’s mostly dry. Has ended, it’s done. All there is to it is dressing mother, I’ve put her in her favourite wine pyjamas,. She looks different, like the remaining skin of a fruit, adorned and shaped to look one. A taut crumpled in places version of mother. I hear the knocking on the door, I don’t answer. Mother looks radiant, I put on a double episode of coronation street, I make mother tea and toast, she doesn’t touch a thing. The water begins to run down the walls. I see blue neon, pulsing behind the curtains.
I run towards the door, sometimes it doesn’t click right. It’s that Latvian salesman behind the door selling broadband and TV packages. Get out you cunt, I told you already, I’ve free to air. I slam the door behind me. I look at the mirror in the hall. A man looks back at me. A man in make up, dressed as a woman. The walls were beginning to move like water again, but at least the mirror wasn’t melting yet. In the sitting room Eastenders was about to begin, then finally mother said something, finally mother began to talk. Finally mother spoke.
You’re a good boy Jimmy, you were always a good boy,
Ma, I knew you wouldn’t leave me.
I can’t talk long James, I have to go soon.
What the fuck are you doing with me corpse?
Nothing Ma, I just, I just.
Just nothing Jimmy, you were always a fucking oddball, now do the right thing and bury me, otherwise me soul will never rest, and Jesus and Mary and all the holy saints are waiting on me up there.
Even Saint Christopher and Padre Pio Ma?
Especially them.
OK Ma.
Do the right thing Jimmy. I love you and I’ll see you sooner than you think.
Sooner than I think, I don’t like the sound of the Ma. But she didn’t reply. She just stared ahead blankly with those marble like eyes I bought on the cheap online.
I heard the door banging outside, I could see the blue neon through the curtains, the fucking Guards, those auld ones, nosey cunts.
Guarda Siochana
Jimmy open the door.
Open the door or we’ll have to put it through.
The Mirror was melting again, and the walls seemed to ripple like water. I look at me track and field medals in the outdated cabinet.
I put on me runners, I look back at mother. I tell her goodbye, she doesn’t reply. I open the back door, there are no coppers. I suppose there’s nothing really left to do but run. I take off me heels and slip on me runners, the Saturn 2000’s Mammy bought me, the ones I never wore. As I take one last look at mother I see a man. Like a vision. There he stands, glowing, a man made up of light and youth. Ken Barlow stood there, smiling back at me. You have to leave your mum now Jimmy, you need to be strong. Eventually you’ll get over it he says. You mean like how you got over Deirdre? Exactly he said. I look back, take one last look at mother. I hear the door breaking through, Ken has disappeared. The gaff full of Guards, they look at me then look at mother, they have that look in their eyes. The same look I remember after me and Tommy Behan were caught.
I get cuffed, a street full of neighbours look on. I see Mags and Mary, tutting with that look in their eyes, nosey cunts. It’s been a while now but it only seems like yesterday when mother died this morning.
DoubleSpeak 