nanowritmo 25 / My Life

No Angel  / Dido















“Ma’m… I um… There’s um…one more thing…” Mister stammered as I frowned into the phone.


“Yes?”


“I have you listed as the next of kin…do you have ...ah, other relatives? Um” The frown became a scowl, braced for what was coming. “A B.... she’s…”


“B… yes a distant cousin. …Why do you ask?” My voice was tight and terse. I felt bad about this. How could he possibly know B. unless she had contacted him? And if she had, that was not his fault. I was expecting to hear that she had been in touch with him, but not what came next. “Well, um your… cousin, called this morning…”


“What?!” I interrupted starting to fume. How had she heard that Mother died and why didn’t she call me?  And how had she known to call him?


“Um, your cousin B. called this morning and was quiet insistent. She wants to have a grave side quartet play…”


“NO.” I answered with a fierceness usually reserved for bad dogs and small misbehaving children.


“I thought so.” I could hear the smile in his voice and it made me feel bad that my reaction had been so abrupt.


“My mother’s wishes to me were very clear and correct me if I’m wrong, but an Orthodox Jewish ceremony would NOT have a grave side band.” I was trying to be softer, more humane, but I could here the furious edge still in my voice.


“No m’am. It most definitely would not.” I could definitely hear the smile, though he was clearly trying as hard to mask it as I was trying to be civil. “I tried to explain to your cousin this morning…”


“She called you? About this? This morning!?” The pieces of this puzzle were falling into place.


"Yes M’am.” The smile replaced by the sound of sympathy. I think I might have growled. “She called the first time about nine am. I told her I’d have to speak to you and you would have to make the arrangements.”


"First time....Nine…am?” I repeated, looking at a clock that now said 12:15. She had not been one of the three messages. Maybe she’d called while I was on the phone? Maybe she didn’t have my number? “I’ll take care of it.” I snapped. I hoped Mister understood that my anger was not directed at him.


“Thank you.” He answered again this time with clear relief.


"I’m sorry.” I added then. “If my cousin should call you again, tell her to call me instead. And I’m sorry to have you in the middle of this.” Fury was now fighting with embarrassment.


“Not a problem M’am.” He clearly smiling now. “I’ll talk to you in a few hours with that info.”


I thanked him and hung up. There were no waiting messages.




Trying to have some space between my conversation with Mister and B. I decided it was best to call the others who had insisted I notify them as soon as possible.  Clearly JP knew, and the 'nurse friend Jenny".  No calls from either of  them.


I returned G.’s call, and got her machine. I left a long message thanking her for calling me and providing the blow by blow of the events of the day. I told her I’d call back later.


Next, I called W. I was dreading it. He was the one that I thought it would be hard to tell and I had anticipated he would be very upset.


“Hi W?” I said into the phone starting to tear up. “I’m sorry to say this, I just learned Mother passed away. You wanted me to call you as soon as I knew.”


“Oh Hi. Yeah. I know. I got a call this morning.” He was not sounding the least bit upset. His words however, knocked the wind from me. “I got a call about 9 ish.”  Did everyone in the world know but me? I couldn’t even speak to ask who had called him. “You know, I have my real estate license and I know your mother would want me to handle the sale of the condo. Well, you probably have other stuff to do today, but call me when your set, okay? Oh, I have to go. Bye.” And he was gone.


I took a few deep breaths, relaying the conversation to M. He snorted, his anger growing with my stun. There was only one person left who I had promised to tell.


I called C. C was another woman of my mother’s age who lived in town. Not exactly a patient and not exactly a family friend. I was never clear what C and my mother’s relationship was. I knew C. came to Mother for professional advice. But I also knew Mother talked to C and that C was tactlessly forthright. In fact, C. was the only person I had ever heard, turn to my mother and tell her to cut the shit. Growing up, C gave me birthday presents of things I truly wanted and enjoyed: Bubble gum, which gave way to nail polish, then gift certificates. C. nodded when I started dating R, agreeing that we were all wrong for each other, but telling me I had to learn lessons for myself and she would support that. I loved C.


Someone at her house told me she was not home. I could reach her at the same local hospital my mother had started in. They gave me a room number. I called with concern. I had no idea why she was in the hospital. After assuring me she was going to be just fine, but not telling me what was wrong,  C. told me she too, already had heard the news of Mother’s passing. Hours earlier.


“You are NOT thinking of taking over her condo and coming back to this Godforsaken place are you?” She asked.


“No. Not at all.” I answered.


“Good. Might’ve done your Mother good too, to get out. Might have made her less crazy.” I smiled. “Well, sorry kiddo, I’m not going to make it to the funeral. But you hang tough. You’re a good one. I’m proud of you.”


“Thanks.” I said tearful as we hung up.


I wasn’t sure what had upset me. C’s words? Mother’s death? The fact that EVERYONE knew about it hours before me? I had said to everyone, I would probably be the last to know. But I didn’t expect that no one would try to tell me.


Turning upset to anger, a skill that I had honed for years. I wiped my eyes and dug out B’s number.


“You called the funeral home this morning?” I asked after identifying myself. “May I ask how you knew she had died two hours before I did?” I asked snidely.


Realizing she had probably done a faux pas, she started back peddling, the story shifting slightly with each breath until she concluded that it was coincidental.


“I tried to call you Mom this morning, and got the news.” She finally settled on, realizing that telling me people had called her was not good.


“I see. So you decided the first call should be to the funeral parlor to change the arrangements to what you wanted?” I knew I was not being nice, but I didn’t think the situation exactly warranted it.


B. stammered again, now yammering on about how nice it would be and how special, and wanting to travel down memory lane about how wonderful Mother was. I was not inclined at that time. In fact, Mother had never been so wonderful to me. My suspicions that she had been telling people for years how terrible I was, seemed to be being confirmed given that she’d been dead for hours and no one had called.


M. made a gesture to the clock. It was now going on 1. We needed to go find her birth certificate.


“There will be no music. She made her wishes about what she wanted very clear and that’s that.


“Well, what exactly did she say, because I was thinking it would be nice if…”


“B. I’m doing what she asked. I don’t have time or interest in debating it with you.” I said sharply. “Does your family know?” I asked, then decided I didn’t want to know. Deep down, I already did know. Of course they knew. B. wouldn't have called the funeral parlour before calling her father.  I went on before she had chance to answer. “If they don’t. I would appreciate it if you could tell them and tell them to feel free to notify anyone they see fit, considering everyone else is doing it. I need to take care of some arrangements.  I'll call you back with details as I know them.”


Probably sensing the ice was thinning by the second, B. merely agreed.