Mum! Oh, not again! Eleanor slammed the toilet lid shut and pressed the flush button. Is it really that hard to pull the lever after yourself?
She stormed out of the loo and marched straight to her mothers bedroom.
Mrs. Clarke was huddled on the bed, small and fragile, almost translucent. When had the sturdy, confident woman become such a frail little thing?
Eleanor, Ive forgotten again, havent I? she asked, her frightened eyes searching her daughters face. Im sorry, love, you know I never mean to.
Mum, what am I supposed to do with you? I see it all, but Michael sees it too, and Harry
Forgive me, Eleanor, Ill be more careful, Mrs. Clarke pleaded, looking up at her.
Whatever, what do you expect from me? Eleanor waved her hand and left the room.
Mum seemed to be aging all too quickly. Not long ago Mrs. Clarke had been independent, strong, and incredibly sharpsomeone you could turn to for advice or just a friendly chat. She was wellread, quickwitted, and always cheerfully kind. All of Eleanors friends had said she was lucky to have such a mother.
No one else had a mother quite like hers. Eleanor had always known she could lean on her, ask for support, and get a comforting word. Then, suddenly, old age crept up on Mumunpleasant, cold, clingy, faintly smelly, and a bit slow.
Now you cant have a proper talk with her. You cant ask for advice, sit at her feet and vent about the boss or fatigue. Shes become like a child herselfslow, helpless, and simple.
Eleanor slipped into the kitchen, where husband Michael and their fifteenyearold son Harry were hunched over a puzzling board game. Their puzzled, focused expressions gave her a small measure of calm.
Mum, Harry blurted suddenly, why do you cut the meat in the soup so big?
I dont know, love, Eleanor stammered. Why do you ask? Dont you like it?
Its fine, Harry said absentmindedly, turning a game piece over. Its just that Grandma cant chew it; she pulls it out of her mouth and puts it on the table.
So its unpleasant for you, isnt it? Eleanor nodded sympathetically, feeling a pang of guilt. Ill tell Grandma not to do that.
No, Im okay with it, Harry continued, studying the piece. It just means Grandma isnt getting proper nutrition, and thats bad for her health.
Ah, Eleanor said, watching her son. Ill cut it smaller.
Better to make meatballs, Harry shot back, his eyes wide. Remember when you made them for me after I lost my teeth and couldnt chew? You did the same for Grandma when I was a baby.
Did I? Eleanor blushed at the memory.
And also, love, Michael interjected, please dont scold Mrs. Clarke about the loo. Harry and I will manage, dont worry. If you keep nagging her, well all feel awkward.
Okay, Mum, I wont, Harry said, his eyes bright. And I promise I wont argue with you and Dad when youre old.
Alright, son, Eleanor whispered, fighting back tears as she left the kitchen.
She lingered in the hallway, trying to steady herself, then headed back to her mothers room.
Mum, she called, finding Mrs. Clarke seated on a chair by the window, watching the street. Mum.
Yes, dear? Mrs. Clarke turned, her voice soft. Whats wrong, love?
Im stupid and rude, Eleanor rested her head on her mothers knee. Intolerant, angryeverything.
Dont say that, Mrs. Clarke said firmly. It hurts me to hear you speak like that about yourself. Whats gotten into you?
Promise me you wont die, Eleanor suddenly sobbed.
My dear, what are you talking about? Mrs. Clarke stroked Eleanors hair. Of course I wont. I have no intention of leaving you.
Im terrified youll be gone. What will I do alone?
Eleanor, Im right here, with you. Youre not alone. Whats troubling you?
No, its fine, Eleanor wiped her tears and stood. Ill go make dinner. Soup with meatballs, okay?
Ill be looking forward to it, Mrs. Clarke smiled.
And she thought to herself, Here I am, rushing to her like a dog, and even Harry pointed out my mistake. Its shameful. The teenager understands more than the grownup aunt. Im scared of what will happen when shes gone. I wont blame her again. If I slip up even once more, may God punish me.
