New East Side Nursing Home
New York City...
"How's she doing today?" Jason asked as he watched his mother where she sat propped in a chair, her hands folded neatly in her lap, staring off into space, though the television blared noisily nearby.
"Better. She's having a good day today. She'll be happy to see you, Detective," the nurse reassured him with a warm smile and a compassionate pat of his hand.
"She never seems to know I'm here," he remarked, more to himself than to the nurse, as he watched his mother from the doorway of her room.
"Oh, she knows. She may not be able to tell you, but some part of her knows. Don't you notice the way her eyes light up when she hears your voice" Trust me, Detective Daly. Your mother knows you're here."
Jason only nodded numbly, his lips a thin worried line, his expression strained. He hated to see her like this, remembering when she was vital, lively, full of life. What he wouldn't give to hear her laugh again, to see her smile, to acknowledge his presence, just once. Just one more time.
"Hey, Mom," he said gently, as he settled himself on a chair beside her. "Nurse Jackie tells me you're doing well today. She said you even ate all your peas." He couldn't help but smile at the irony of that. She had always hated peas, and yet, had always insisted that he eat all of his.
"I have something to tell you, Mom. Something important. I don't want you to get upset. I want you to be happy for me." He reached for her left hand and took it between his own, a finger rubbing against the white gold wedding band she still wore, though his father had been deceased for years. Her hand felt so small and fragile in his, so different from the sure, capable hands that had cared for him as a boy.
"I met someone, Ma. Someone special. Her name is Bethany. I think you'd like her. I think you'd like her a lot. She's beautiful and smart and amazing, and I love her. She's given me hope again, Ma. Something to live for, besides my job. I..."
He broke off a moment, as he fought back an unexpected rise of emotion. "I gotta go away for a little while, Mom. Just for a few days, but I'll be back. I promise. I'll-I'll bring her here to meet you. Soon. You'll like her. You will. She reminds me of you."
He bowed his head a moment to regard their clasped hands before looking back at her face, and his heart sank, like it always did when he came here. There was no recognition in her face, no sign that she even knew he existed. He was her only son, and yet, it she seemed to have forgotten him, just like she'd forgotten everything else in her life.
He sat there with her for what seemed like a long time, reading quietly from her favorite book. He'd read it so many times he could practically recite it by rote.
"Heaven did not seem to be my home; and I broke my heart with weeping to come back to earth; and the angels were so angry that they flung me out into the middle of the heath on the top of Wuthering Heights; where I woke sobbing for joy." It had always been her favorite, but he had started to hate it. Why couldn't she have been fond of a happier tale, rather than a one so mired in tragedy"
He sighed and set the book on his lap, the spine tattered, the pages crinkled. He could have easily bought a new copy, but it wouldn't have been right. It wouldn't have been hers. He sat there quietly with her, holding her hand, while the sun moved in the sky outside the window and the clock ticked noisily on the wall - signs of the passage of time.
"Detective Daly?" At long last, a voice broke the silence. "It's time for her medication," Nurse Jackie interrupted, her voice gentle and patient. Nurses really were angels incarnate, he'd decided. It was no wonder he'd fallen in love with one of them.
Jason nodded his head, knowing what that meant. It wasn't just about his mother's medication, but about other things, too. Cleaning and changing and feeding and medicating, as if she were a child with no control of her own. He sighed again and offered her a smile, though there was no sign that she'd noticed in the least.
"Be a good girl for the nurses," he said as he moved to his feet, leaning close to kiss her forehead, his lips lingering against her dry, brittle flesh, wondering whether any part of her ever knew he was there at all.
"Love you," he whispered, lifting her hand to his lips for another kiss before setting it gently back in her lap. He paused a moment, as if hoping her gaze would follow him, hoping her mouth would curl into a smile and he'd hear her voice again, teasing him, taunting him, chiding him like she always did when he was a boy: "Be a good boy, Jase. And don't be late for supper!"
"I'll see you soon," he promised, feeling like his heart was breaking. It was the same hopeless feeling every time he came here. She wasn't getting any better; if anything, she was getting worse. Only a matter of time, they'd said. Nothing but a miracle would save her now, and he no longer believed in miracles. Maybe he never had.
"How's she doing today?" Jason asked as he watched his mother where she sat propped in a chair, her hands folded neatly in her lap, staring off into space, though the television blared noisily nearby.
"Better. She's having a good day today. She'll be happy to see you, Detective," the nurse reassured him with a warm smile and a compassionate pat of his hand.
"She never seems to know I'm here," he remarked, more to himself than to the nurse, as he watched his mother from the doorway of her room.
"Oh, she knows. She may not be able to tell you, but some part of her knows. Don't you notice the way her eyes light up when she hears your voice" Trust me, Detective Daly. Your mother knows you're here."
Jason only nodded numbly, his lips a thin worried line, his expression strained. He hated to see her like this, remembering when she was vital, lively, full of life. What he wouldn't give to hear her laugh again, to see her smile, to acknowledge his presence, just once. Just one more time.
"Hey, Mom," he said gently, as he settled himself on a chair beside her. "Nurse Jackie tells me you're doing well today. She said you even ate all your peas." He couldn't help but smile at the irony of that. She had always hated peas, and yet, had always insisted that he eat all of his.
"I have something to tell you, Mom. Something important. I don't want you to get upset. I want you to be happy for me." He reached for her left hand and took it between his own, a finger rubbing against the white gold wedding band she still wore, though his father had been deceased for years. Her hand felt so small and fragile in his, so different from the sure, capable hands that had cared for him as a boy.
"I met someone, Ma. Someone special. Her name is Bethany. I think you'd like her. I think you'd like her a lot. She's beautiful and smart and amazing, and I love her. She's given me hope again, Ma. Something to live for, besides my job. I..."
He broke off a moment, as he fought back an unexpected rise of emotion. "I gotta go away for a little while, Mom. Just for a few days, but I'll be back. I promise. I'll-I'll bring her here to meet you. Soon. You'll like her. You will. She reminds me of you."
He bowed his head a moment to regard their clasped hands before looking back at her face, and his heart sank, like it always did when he came here. There was no recognition in her face, no sign that she even knew he existed. He was her only son, and yet, it she seemed to have forgotten him, just like she'd forgotten everything else in her life.
He sat there with her for what seemed like a long time, reading quietly from her favorite book. He'd read it so many times he could practically recite it by rote.
"Heaven did not seem to be my home; and I broke my heart with weeping to come back to earth; and the angels were so angry that they flung me out into the middle of the heath on the top of Wuthering Heights; where I woke sobbing for joy." It had always been her favorite, but he had started to hate it. Why couldn't she have been fond of a happier tale, rather than a one so mired in tragedy"
He sighed and set the book on his lap, the spine tattered, the pages crinkled. He could have easily bought a new copy, but it wouldn't have been right. It wouldn't have been hers. He sat there quietly with her, holding her hand, while the sun moved in the sky outside the window and the clock ticked noisily on the wall - signs of the passage of time.
"Detective Daly?" At long last, a voice broke the silence. "It's time for her medication," Nurse Jackie interrupted, her voice gentle and patient. Nurses really were angels incarnate, he'd decided. It was no wonder he'd fallen in love with one of them.
Jason nodded his head, knowing what that meant. It wasn't just about his mother's medication, but about other things, too. Cleaning and changing and feeding and medicating, as if she were a child with no control of her own. He sighed again and offered her a smile, though there was no sign that she'd noticed in the least.
"Be a good girl for the nurses," he said as he moved to his feet, leaning close to kiss her forehead, his lips lingering against her dry, brittle flesh, wondering whether any part of her ever knew he was there at all.
"Love you," he whispered, lifting her hand to his lips for another kiss before setting it gently back in her lap. He paused a moment, as if hoping her gaze would follow him, hoping her mouth would curl into a smile and he'd hear her voice again, teasing him, taunting him, chiding him like she always did when he was a boy: "Be a good boy, Jase. And don't be late for supper!"
"I'll see you soon," he promised, feeling like his heart was breaking. It was the same hopeless feeling every time he came here. She wasn't getting any better; if anything, she was getting worse. Only a matter of time, they'd said. Nothing but a miracle would save her now, and he no longer believed in miracles. Maybe he never had.