HER ETERNAL MOTHER

HER ETERNAL MOTHER

    I sat nursing the drink, rolling the glass in my hand, seeing the bubbles forming  in it and took a sip. I was a mediocre writer, and many of my books did find a honored place and review. I was staying in an apartment house, a widower with no encumbrances. It suited my carefree life and I had more to lavish as I inherited enough from my parents, being the only child. I travelled a lot and appreciated  beauty and writing about it relaxed me. Curiosity and openness was the better side of me.

    I saw her through the window of the opposite flat, a stately women middle aged like me. I took my binocular to get a  closer and better view. She was beautiful  and finely dressed. She was animately talking to someone , waving her arms. After some time, still curious I saw through the bonocular an older lady, similarly talking and waving her arms. I presumed it must be her mother as both looked alike physically. With nothing better to do and warming up to form  a company I continued to pry, and it crossed my mind that hearing their conversation would regale me better.

      The next day I saw her strolling with a dog who seemed to sniff everyone that passed by. I was seated in a garden chair and the dog came to sniff me and pissed on the chair’s legs. She saw it and profeesed apology several times and I took the opportunity to acquint her. So, after sometime we sought of became close friends, the dog accompanying us everywhere. She was a beautician working during the winter season ,saving enough and travelling a lot like me , during summer. She was esoteric with odd beliefs and believed in the paranormal, which further heightened my curiosity and proximity . She was a connoisseur of beauty to perhaps everyone’s eyes.

      After dinner together at a local pub we returned  and I volunteered to visit her apartment to see her mom. She appeared a bit taken aback, but could not refuse. She took the key from her purse and opened the door. The house was neat inside and she called her mom several times. Then she saw a paper on the table , took it and read it loud. “ I have gone for a stroll with the neighbour and will be back soon. ” she pocketed the note. She removed  her coat and hung it on the coat stand near where I was seated in a sofa. I also  saw several other dresses which she confirmed as her mother’s later. “Can I have some water to drink”. She  left  to fetch it. Out of  sheer curiosity, I dipped my hand into her coat pocket to retrieve the note. It was blank . Before I could replace she returned, so I shoved the note into my pocket and stared through the  window towards my house . After drinking water ,I got up to leave. “ I will  see her some other day” I volunteered and I could see the relief pass through her face.  Meanwhile I had also planted a mic  under the table that afforded a view from my window. It was remotely operated, a rather powerful one and I heard  the mother – daughter conversation clearly and the contends were all mundane and daily occurrences with mention of cancer illness and need for a peaceful death.    “ Why did she lie about the note then ” was the  doubt haunting me. For   many days thereafter, their clear conversation became stale, and I ignored it, but the doubt about the note persisted for want of an answer.

    I had the paper without the written note with me but to show it, would smack of deceit. I decided to visit her without prior intimation to know the real problem  of her mother ;as s frequent mention of cancer can be deciphered from their conversation. I went a little late and knocked at her door. She opened the door with surprise writ large in her face. After initial chit chat, I asked her about her mother. She replied” Mother has gone to see her friend in the ground floor. I will go and call her” .She went inside and retured with a bag and crossed over to the main door and left. As I was watching the TV, the door opened and her mother stepped in. She was the exact replica of her daughter. She spoke  with a similar ascent.  After introduction , he asked about her daughter. “She is helping my friend in her kitchen”After sometime she left. As she opened the door I noticed  her ring in her finger,the ring I had presented  a few weeks back. “ Why was her mother wearing it'?  Her mother left and her daughter returned.  “My mother is helping her friends as they are expecting some guests.” As I left I again noticed my ring on her finger.

     My curiosity got better of me and my watch over the window increased.The same blabbering conversation and it became stale. I decided to accost her about it.

     Over dinner, I laid clear my doubts questioning about the note , the ring and mention of cancer and a peaceful death. Why did she impersonate her  mother, as she was wearing the ring?  Is her mother bed ridden with terminal cancer?  The writer in me was conjuring up all sorts of scenarios. She first stared at my eyes and avoided it. It appeared that she was averse in speaking about it.

    I  caught her arm and expressed my desire to help her. She was swabbing her eyes as tears trickled from them. She slowly opened up.  “ My parents are from Germany and my father an army officer died in the Second world War. My mother was a teacher and she brought me up. I was like her and so we  bonded very well . We moved to this apartment 10 years back. I was formerly a nurse and worked in private hospitals. Later I became a beautician and I am working in a beauty parlour. After my mother retired, she developed  incurable extensive cancer urinary of the bladder with secondaries. She was in constant pain and suffering. As per the advice of the medical oncologist I used to sedate her. She wanted a peaceful death and asked me to poison her. I refused and we had regular intense fights and finally I conceded. She wrote a suicide note and prepared herself.  She wanted me to have an alibi, so I provided her the poison and left. She injected herself and when I returned she was dead. The police conducted an inquest and declared it to be a case of suicide. Guilt ridden for every year, for a week before her birthday I imagine she is alive and play the role of mother and daughter and we cut the birthday cake  . You have perhaps watched it from your room. When you came to see me I had to play the role of my mother alive. Today I will be cutting the cake. Please come and take part in it. “ I acceded and left for her house. The cake was ready and she dressed like her mother and I sat across as a daughter and we celebrated the birthday with champagne.

    The next day I married her in a local church and ever since then she plays the role for her mother’s birthday and I join to help her. It is a bit weird but it satisfies her immensely and I am willing to help her in it. The daughter playing the role and reliving  the  eternal mother.

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