The Kiss: An Anthology About Love and Other Close Encounters(111)

From what their combined memories recollect, the three of us ventured into the gym parking lot. Arriving in front of the beaten, blue car, it was obvious my mother could not drive. Something was wrong with her, something very wrong. Debra plucked the keys from her hand and helped her into the passenger side of the metal contraption. She opened the door for me, but I refused her help and crawled in of my own will. They always said I was stubborn. The fact is certainly true in recent times.

The vehicle began to move. I cannot recall how long it traveled or the number of turns it took to reach our destination. I would like to believe I asked my mother if she was okay. I hope that I told her how much I loved her and that everything was going to be alright. Unfortunately, I was only four. My mind was unable to process such complex thoughts. One can only assume I sat in the back, playing with some now irrelevant toy that meant the world to me then. Isn’t it funny how things change like that? At one point in life, a simple object can be everything. It is lovingly carried from one place to another, attached at a child’s side as though it was a section of their soul. If anyone attempted to remove such a thing, they would be hated, revoked as horrible and most likely subjected to a terrible tantrum. At the moment in that car, my mother would have probably welcomed such torture compared to the daunting reality of what came next.

Then it happened. The car stopped in front of the familiar house where my mother, father, and I all lived. I knew the place well. From this point forward, I may alas, speak of my own memories. I must warn you though they are certainly not pleasant things, not in the slightest. By the time I stepped out of the car, my mother was already halfway up the porch steps. My attention was drawn to her and the sight of my father standing at the top of the concrete structure. He was waiting for her, he was ready. Or was he?

The sights and sounds that followed have haunted my memory for years and can never be forgotten; never be erased. In that moment, it filled my soul and cut through my young core. I did not hear the words my father had spoken. Even if I had, my forming mind could not comprehend their full meaning. I will tell you what I do remember. I remember my mother and that sound, that horrible aching noise. In that instant, I watched as her knees buckled and she fell onto the cold concrete below. A scream of sheer terror and agony flowed through the air like a sonic boom, sending sound waves across my ears. The words that left her lips will never leave my mind. They still often arise in my nightmares. After all, this was the day I lost my mother. This was the day everything changed.





*


Her workout was proceeding quite nicely. Debra raised the treadmill level up a notch as she continued to gossip with her beloved friend Nancy. The woman on the neighboring piece of equipment cranked her own device up a level. Both women were truly competitors at heart. It was a commonality that had brought them together, among other things. Everything was as it should be; nothing was out of the ordinary. It was just another November day in the gym. She could have never anticipated what would come next.

Debra watched as a gym employee approached, staring right at them. The woman looked fully prepared to interrupt their exercise routine. Debra felt annoyed. The young, blonde walked straight up to the two ladies. Debra had seen her here before and sized her up as just another bimbo with a nice, young figure. Debra’s defensive state caused her to push the treadmill to a higher pace. As she watched the girl’s expression, her own attitude changed.

“Nancy? Are either of you Nancy?” The girl seemed afraid to ask the words. Was that truly fear?

Debra’s friend answered the question and had the treadmill off in a matter of seconds. “Yes, I am Nancy. What’s going on?” Now it was Nancy’s face that seemed filled with fear. Debra lowered her own treadmill setting down to a walking pace.

“There’s a man on the phone. He says he is your husband and that it’s an emergency.” The girl’s hands shook as she stated the words, clearly nervous. In fairness, Debra knew this was not the sort of thing one expects when taking a job at a gym. Of course, now, her focus was drawn to her dear friend. Nancy was already off the treadmill, ready to follow the ditzy employee. Debra was going to ask if she should go along as well, but the look on Nancy’s face implied she would not have been heard. It was as if she knew, as though she had already heard the news echo in her ears. Debra stopped her own treadmill and opted to watch her friend approach the phone on the other side of the gym. Nancy was not on the phone long. Debra could not be sure if she had spoken into the device at all. She watched as Nancy’s arm weakly placed the thing back onto its appropriate location. Nancy was never weak; she never carried herself like that. After all, Nancy was prior military. She was a strong, determined woman. It was a quality Debra adored about her. Something was wrong here, truly wrong.

Debra did not hesitate any longer and plucked up her bag, rushing to her friend’s side. Nancy was not herself. Her eyes were glazed over and she seemed lost in some distant land. “What is it?” Debra did not know of any other way to ask. She needed to know what course of action to take next.

Nancy’s expression drifted toward her friend. She still wasn’t there, not truly. “It was Paul. I need to go home.” The words seemed to have drawn the last bit of energy from the woman’s body, mind, and very soul. She needed Debra now more than ever. Debra was more than willing to step up to the plate.

“Let’s go get Korina.” Debra hoped that hearing her daughter’s name would draw Nancy back to reality for the moment. It did not. The woman remained as though the living dead. Her face was pale, her mind was gone. Debra put her hand on the woman’s shoulder and led her to the facility’s daycare.