The End of a Story

Sometime later, she awoke, sweating and uncomfortable. The house was moist and hot like a greenhouse, and she recognized the earthy smell, like that of a spring, at once. She straightened and in the corner she saw Bill, in his shirtsleeves and slacks, one leg folded casually over the other. His hair was brown and well groomed. She could make out the outline of a wallet in his front pocket. He was absently stroking a hibiscus blossom which opened underneath his fingers. As always, the edges of him seemed to bleed into the air like watercolors.

“Evening, Gloria.” He said. His voice seemed to echo only in her head, bypassing the empty room that lay between them.

“Oh Bill, I’m so glad you came.” She breathed.

He nodded and smiled, uncrossing his legs and rising from the chair. Crossing the room, he noticed the turtle in the bowl and gestured towards it. “From your daughter.” He stated matter-of-factly. Gloria started to lament the creature’s neglectful death but she stopped when she noticed the turtle swimming happily in it’s tank. She stood and reached for him. He smiled and turned away, looking out at the garden filled with blanket covered plants. For a long moment he was silent, facing the dark window and scratching his chin. Then he spoke.

“Your daughter means well.” He said simply. “She misses her mother.”

Gloria nodded. “I know.”

“Of course you do.”

A late season aster leaned towards his outstretched palm and burst into full bloom. “

Your wild rose seems to be dying…” he said.

“I can’t make it grow, I’ve tried everything. Sometimes…” she trailed off.

“…it’s the only thing that gets you out of bed in the morning.” Bill finished for her. He nodded solemnly in the direction of the garden as if he were a doctor making a diagnosis.

The sun was rising but it had not yet appeared over the frozen fields. It was casting reverse shadows on the lawn, and with a start she noticed that the blanket had blown off of the wild rose. Where had once stood the sickly unwilling bush was now the greenest and most vibrantly alive plant in her garden. She inhaled sharply. Gloria approached the window and put her hands to it, the glass steaming under her fingers. Bill was beside her radiating heat like a fire.

“I have to go now.” He said.

“So soon?”

He nodded and strode into the foyer, putting his hand on the knob. A potted peace lily on the door stoop rustled pleasantly as he passed. When he’d left, Gloria felt sleepy and alive. Swaddled by her warm house she settled back into her arm chair and slept, unburdened.

When she woke it was fully light outside. She had slept soundly and felt rested. Her answering machine was blinking urgently on the table beside her chair and she stretched to press the button. First was a message from Alexis.

“Mom, it’s me. Are you still asleep? Crazy night or something? Anyway, listen, the doctor had to move some less urgent cases around but he can see you today at eleven forty five so give me a call so I know you got this in time.”

Gloria checked the clock. It read 12:34 p.m. The second message was also from Alexis.

“Mom, it’s eleven fifty two, or something, and the doctor just called. He said you weren’t at your appointment? What’s going on? Why aren’t you answering my phone calls…” her daughter’s voice sounded worried and Gloria felt a pang of guilt. “…anyway, I think I’m going to skip class and come check on you because I’m worried. I’ll be there soon.” There was a click on the tape as her daughter hung up and then the machine was silent.

With a start, Gloria remembered Bill’s visit and the miracles that her daughter would not be able to ignore. In the corner the hibiscus flower had opened with the sun. She rushed to the window to view the miraculously blooming rose. The blanket had indeed blown off, but the rose was not in full bloom as she had remembered it from the night before. The frost had killed it, and it stood withered in the lawn. What sickly foliage it had possessed before had frozen and become brown. Gloria felt an epiphany start to creep into her mind like a vine. She turned slowly to inspect the turtle bowl and found the creature inside as dead as it had been the night before. It’s limbs had seeped from the confines of the shell, the stagnant water in the bowl covered by a thin film. She reeled in the kitchen and forced herself to sit down. She could not cry. She thought of her disappointed daughter, coming to check on her as if she were a sick child. Beside the turtle bowl was the bottle of pills that Alexis had set out for her. A good mother would take those pills. She reached for the bottle, opening it on the table. The pills spilled out and she took a handful, popping one resolutely into her mouth. She thought she could feel it seeping into her, and one was not enough. She took a second, a third, and then waited. After some time the room wavered pleasantly and she took another, and another until the bottle was empty. Now the room was no longer concrete. In the back of her mind she remembered that Alexis was on her way and would be there any minute, but it no longer mattered. She stumbled to a potted plant and kneeled beside it, laying her cheek against the warm soil in the pot. She was aware of Alexis bursting through the kitchen door, the welcome bell ringing hysterically but it sounded far away and unimportant. Alexis pulled her from the plant and shook her.

“Mom! Mom! Wake up..” she was shaking the empty pill bottle in front of Gloria and it left orange streaks in the air. The edges of Alexis had started to bleed like Bill’s did when she dreamt of him visiting her from the other side of the grave. That’s ridiculous. She thought. People don’t visit you when they’re dead…

“People don’t visit you when they’re dead, Alexis.” She heard herself say.

“Did you take all of these pills?!” Her daughter was yelling, still shaking her. She could see Alexis crying, and she remembered that she couldn’t recall the last time she had seen her daughter cry.

Gloria reached for her daughter to comfort her but the room was swelling, hot and moist. Plants burst to life and vines climbed to the ceiling. She turned to her daughter to say “See? It was true all along.” But Alexis was nothing more than a smudge of light