Sunshine and Cadavers

It was four in the morning when the house phone rang. It was against my religion to get up any earlier than nine. Plus, it was the house phone. The only people who called the house phone were telemarketers, bill collectors, and Uncle Jake. I’d learned quickly to ignore all three. Although it was unusual for any one of the three to call at four in the morning, I ignored it. I was sleeping for God’s sake. Like I was coherent. So, I ignored it, rolled over, and went back to sleep. We never answered the house phone.

It was five in the morning when my cell phone rang. I was annoyed but went to answer it anyway. Whoever was calling my cell was ten times more important than the house phone. It could have been a number of people who had something important to say. I didn’t bother looking at the ID, which I thought immediately was a mistake when my father answered my hello. I hung up and went back to sleep.

It was six in the morning when my cell phone rang again. I didn’t answer it.

It was seven in the morning when my cell phone rang again. I didn’t answer it.

It was eight in the morning when my cell phone rang again. I didn’t answer it.

It was nine in the morning when my cell phone rang again. I picked it up and said “hello.”

My father growled and spoke. “Get to Memorial Hospital, Cassie.”

“If you need a kidney, you aren’t getting it from me,” I spat in response.

“Your mother’s dead.”

“Excuse me,” I said angrily.

“Your mother is dead. Get your ass to the hospital.”

I sat silent for a second. Then, I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I finally managed a “fine” and hung up. A cloud seemed to settle over me as I sat and stared at the floor, my father’s words ringing in my ear. “Your mother is dead.” Your mother is dead. Your mother is dead. I got up and put some shoes on. My car sat patiently outside like a lonely dog. I climbed in and revved the engine. The old scrap pile growled at me before started with a roar. I was pretty sure I woke up half the neighbor until I realized it was nine and most people are up at nine anyway. The engine sputtered as I took the winding road to Memorial. Each stop sign seemed to be made out of blood and bones. Spattered red and spelled in carnage. I stopped at each one with a reverence I didn’t even think I was capable of.

It was nine-thirty when I parked in the parking garage. The punched piece of paper reminded me. My mother never would have parked in the garage. They’re too expensive. She’d rather have the car stolen. At least she could have gotten another one. Maybe the new one wouldn’t squeal when you pressed the brakes.

The building smelled like antiseptic and blood. A nurse with Winnie the Pooh scrubs on passed by me in a flash. My dad was sitting in the corner on a plastic-upholstered chair. He was reading a Men’s Health from ’09 and bouncing his foot in time. I approached him with rage. “Where is she?”

“Calm down,” he sneered. “They’re doing an autopsy.”

“Why didn’t they call me?” I asked. “Why would they call you? You could give a shit if she lived or died.”

“That’s not true, Cassie.”

“Bull shit.”

He put his feet flat on the floor and threw the magazine on an end table. “Look, you little bitch. You didn’t pick up the goddamn phone, so they called me. I had to come from work and claim her ass. You owe me.”

“I owe you shit,” I spat.

“You owe me your fucking life. I gave you the damn mess.”

“Yeah, thanks,” I growled.

“Look. Claim the body, and you won’t have to deal with me. It’s your fault for not picking up the house phone.” He grabbed Men’s Health and continued reading with his foot bouncing in time.

It’d been four in the morning when the house phone rang. I didn’t answer it.

It was nine-forty-five when I realized my life just went to shit. I couldn’t wait.