One Page #41

When Jerry came in with a plate of cookies and set them on the kitchen table he didn’t expect the dogs to go after them. But they did and when he returned to the kitchen a few minutes later after visiting his mother who was permanently in bed he found the plate licked clean and shining with saliva. The dogs were by the door now, panting to go out, no doubt infected with a sugar rush. Jerry silently cursed under his breath and slammed open the door. The dogs raced out and ran around to the back yard. He brought the plate to the sink and washed it thoroughly. Cookies were his specialty and his mother’s favorite. She hadn’t been able to get up since her unfortunate surgery that rendered her immobile. Since then she hadn’t smiled and her eyes had gone flat. Jerry tried desperately to revive her spirits, but she had gone completely cold. The blood still pumped through her veins, but it was all useless now. And now even the cookies were gone. He would have to go home to make a new batch. He remembered that he needed brown sugar and more chocolate chips. The dogs were back at the door, wanting to be let in and given attention no doubt. He sullenly opened the door and they bounced around, licking his knees. He didn’t move but stood looking out the door at the cars that passed slowly outside. The day was turned gray, and now his mood had taken a severe turn for the worse. He was slowly giving up on brightening his mother’s outlook. He had tried for almost four months, but nothing registered anymore. She ate and slept and seemingly listened to him when he told her stories about his day at the factory, but she didn’t look at him any longer, and her face never moved a muscle. He took the phone off the hook and dialed his sister. They were in regular contact now, even though they hadn’t been for years until recently. They wrote Christmas cards, and sometimes birthday cards, but rarely more than that, even though they lived only a half hour away from each other. Now they spoke almost every day or so. Their mother lived just around the corner from Jerry, so he was there far more often than his sister, and he called to update her. He usually had little to say. When his sister picked up and listened to the update, he silently prayed that she would agree with his proposition. He thought she would, but wasn’t sure. It was risky even mentioning. But it would help them all, their mother included, in the long run. He mentioned it nervously, his voice shaking. There was a pause and Jerry held his breath. But she agreed. The following week Jerry bought flowers and a shovel. It was unofficial, but finalized. He would plant cornflowers over her grave, they were her favorite.