Status: In Progress
Survivor's Guilt
(Un)Solitary Confinement
A few more days passed, and they decided I was physically healthy enough to leave the hospital. I still have to go back for physical and emotional therapy like every day, but I get to sleep in the comfort of, well, not my bed. See, for all of her faults, my mother has decided that it's time for her to take care of me. So instead of going to my apartment, I'm in my childhood room. Nothing in here's been touched since I moved out; I can tell. I'll have to dust when it feels like my chest isn't seconds away from collapsing.
"Maura? It's time for dinner. Please come down tonight." The request at the end of my mother's call doesn't sound like much of a request, so I stand with a groan and head down the stairs. I had been eating all of my meals in my room, but it sounds like my mother is over that now. Ah, nothing like a cozy, home-cooked meal with my frigid mother and my best friend's ghost.
She isn't always talking, and she rarely touches me, but she's always there. She's there whether my eyes are open or closed and I can't even tell anyone because they'll think I'm crazy. They already think I'm crazy, especially after the morgue incident.
I just want them all to leave me alone. I want to die in peace. I won't kill myself, no, that's not what she wants. She wants me to fade away. She knows no one will notice, and that's what she wants. She wants to be remembered for dying the way she did since she can't come back, and she doesn't want me stealing any of that glory. Frankly, I understand her anger. I took her life away from her.
She was the kind of person who was on her way to having everything, and she died because of me.
"Well, Maura, are you going to sit down and eat, or will you just be standing there all night?" I do my best to ignore the awful, snide tone in my mother's voice and take my seat at the table, staring at the serving dishes in front of me. The appetite that I vaguely had is gone. I almost stand right away and leave, but I feel my mother's icy glare on me, so I stay seated.
"Help yourself at any time, please," she says, rolling her eyes at my temporary paralysis. She really doesn't get it. She doesn't understand what she's done. Fire burns through my veins like it hasn't in weeks, and I return her glare.
I shake my head. "You don't get it, do you? Do you really expect me to eat this? Out of all the food in the world, you made this and you expect me to eat it. I guess your act is finally up; you can stop pretending that you care now."
She looks like she is genuinely surprised by my outburst. "Maura, I don't underst-"
"I know you don't understand! It's painfully obvious! God, I know that she wasn't your favorite person, and that I'm not either, but how could you make her favorite food? How could you do that? How could you be so thoughtless?" I'm shouting, my arms flailing around me, and suddenly it's hard to catch my breath and it feels like the room is spinning.
I grab the arm of the chair and steady myself before standing up. "I'm going out."
"Maura, please, at least sit down. I can make something else..."
"I'm not hungry."
"You can't leave, okay?!" She finally raises her voice back at me. "You know I don't like this any more than you do, but the doctors didn't really give me a choice. So sit down, and eat up. Or don't, but don't blame me. You could at least be a tiny bit grateful for once in your life, Maura."
For once in my life. Like I wasn't grateful for every day that I got to spend with her. Like I wasn't grateful that I was healthy, that I had good friends.
I've always been grateful for the good things in my life. My mother just happens to not be one of those things. However, it's not worth the last bit of energy that I actually have left to fight with her, so I slump back in the chair and sip my water, purposely avoiding the food.
"When can I go back to my apartment?" I ask, about ten minutes later.
"When the doctors say so. You have that appointment next week. We'll know then."
I close my eyes and take as deep of a breath as I can manage. "And when is the funeral?"
She stops eating for a moment, and I prepare myself for whatever bullshit she's about to throw my way. "Maura, I think you need to talk to your doctor about going to the funeral. It might not be the best thing for you, okay?"
No, it's not okay. None of this is okay.
"Maura? It's time for dinner. Please come down tonight." The request at the end of my mother's call doesn't sound like much of a request, so I stand with a groan and head down the stairs. I had been eating all of my meals in my room, but it sounds like my mother is over that now. Ah, nothing like a cozy, home-cooked meal with my frigid mother and my best friend's ghost.
She isn't always talking, and she rarely touches me, but she's always there. She's there whether my eyes are open or closed and I can't even tell anyone because they'll think I'm crazy. They already think I'm crazy, especially after the morgue incident.
I just want them all to leave me alone. I want to die in peace. I won't kill myself, no, that's not what she wants. She wants me to fade away. She knows no one will notice, and that's what she wants. She wants to be remembered for dying the way she did since she can't come back, and she doesn't want me stealing any of that glory. Frankly, I understand her anger. I took her life away from her.
She was the kind of person who was on her way to having everything, and she died because of me.
"Well, Maura, are you going to sit down and eat, or will you just be standing there all night?" I do my best to ignore the awful, snide tone in my mother's voice and take my seat at the table, staring at the serving dishes in front of me. The appetite that I vaguely had is gone. I almost stand right away and leave, but I feel my mother's icy glare on me, so I stay seated.
"Help yourself at any time, please," she says, rolling her eyes at my temporary paralysis. She really doesn't get it. She doesn't understand what she's done. Fire burns through my veins like it hasn't in weeks, and I return her glare.
I shake my head. "You don't get it, do you? Do you really expect me to eat this? Out of all the food in the world, you made this and you expect me to eat it. I guess your act is finally up; you can stop pretending that you care now."
She looks like she is genuinely surprised by my outburst. "Maura, I don't underst-"
"I know you don't understand! It's painfully obvious! God, I know that she wasn't your favorite person, and that I'm not either, but how could you make her favorite food? How could you do that? How could you be so thoughtless?" I'm shouting, my arms flailing around me, and suddenly it's hard to catch my breath and it feels like the room is spinning.
I grab the arm of the chair and steady myself before standing up. "I'm going out."
"Maura, please, at least sit down. I can make something else..."
"I'm not hungry."
"You can't leave, okay?!" She finally raises her voice back at me. "You know I don't like this any more than you do, but the doctors didn't really give me a choice. So sit down, and eat up. Or don't, but don't blame me. You could at least be a tiny bit grateful for once in your life, Maura."
For once in my life. Like I wasn't grateful for every day that I got to spend with her. Like I wasn't grateful that I was healthy, that I had good friends.
I've always been grateful for the good things in my life. My mother just happens to not be one of those things. However, it's not worth the last bit of energy that I actually have left to fight with her, so I slump back in the chair and sip my water, purposely avoiding the food.
"When can I go back to my apartment?" I ask, about ten minutes later.
"When the doctors say so. You have that appointment next week. We'll know then."
I close my eyes and take as deep of a breath as I can manage. "And when is the funeral?"
She stops eating for a moment, and I prepare myself for whatever bullshit she's about to throw my way. "Maura, I think you need to talk to your doctor about going to the funeral. It might not be the best thing for you, okay?"
No, it's not okay. None of this is okay.