Diary of a Black Widow

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Quick note: Hello, #Steemit readers. This is a fictional story that's been forming in my head for about a week now. I finally got tired of listening to the voices in my head prompting me to write it out, so here it is.
Please be aware that this is a rough draft, original work which I hope to compile, edit, and publish later on down the road. All rights reserved. Thanks! ~ Meredith

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Chapter 1

Grieving.
It's so ugly and raw. I've wanted to deny its drag on my consciousness, but here I am, standing in the house where I grew up.
There are no sounds of laughter. No delicious wafts of homemade meals from the kitchen.
Just silence.

Mom died in this house two weeks ago. I can remember the last phone call she made to me. I was at home nursing the black eye my husband had given me in his drunken rage, trying to figure out what I did wrong so I could fix it.
I saw her number on the caller ID and hesitated about picking up the phone because even though I never told her the hell I'd been living in, she always seemed to know.
She always knew where my bruises were, even though I had become an expert at hiding them.

I remember the call as if it just happened. Her voice was weaker than usual. She sounded frail and breathless.
I told her I needed to get off the phone and call 9-1-1 for her - or at least call the neighbor to check in, but I could hear the smile in her voice. "No, love. It's time for me to go."

I guess she knew she was dying, but her call wasn't about asking for help or begging me to come home quickly.
She called to tell me she loved me more than anything else in the world - and that Hannah would take care of me.

Perhaps she was delusional? "Mom, who's Hannah? Who is Hannah?"

And from three hours away, over the crackle of the phone line, I heard her take her final breath.

"Mom..? MOM!"

I felt like my world was collapsing...and I froze. My hands ached from holding the receiver so tight that my fingers went numb. I couldn't hang up to call an ambulance. I just stood there with the phone to my ear, hoping...praying that this was a terrible joke.

But I heard the thunk and bounce as the phone fell from her hand, cutting the connection dead.

Dead.

My mother was dead and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. I felt a rage and sorrow so deep that my entire body shook.

I raged about the bruises on my face and body. I raged about being held prisoner in my own home. I raged about the fact that I wasn't allowed to drive hellbent to see my mother because my husband whipped me for every extra mile I put on the car.

And when I stopped raging, I felt a cold chill run through my body.

I'm alone now.

My mother was my only solace. She had joined my father in heaven and I realized at 44, I was an orphan now. Dropping the phone, I curled up into the smallest ball in the middle of the kitchen floor and wept.
I'm not sure how long I laid there, but suddenly my body relaxed and I felt a stillness overcome me. I closed my eyes and let that stillness take over. Time seemed to move so slowly.

I could hear the tick-tick-tick of the wall clock; the buzz of street traffic; the kids laughing down the street; the birds chirping happily from the tree in my front yard.

Peace. Is this what it feels like?

Rising from the floor, I swiped away the tears and called the ambulance, giving my mother's address. I directed them to take her to St. Francis Hospital and would be there as soon as possible.

I then deliberately headed to my bedroom, grabbing the largest suitcase from underneath the bed.
Brian was going to be pissed that I took his favorite travel case. He was going to be pissed about a lot of things. But I had to go.

A normal three-hour drive took me two. I didn't stop at mom's house but went directly to the hospital where they confirmed my deepest fear.

Mom was dead on the scene. On numb legs, I followed a nurse to the morgue where they explained that an autopsy had to be done because she died without a witness.
A final phone call to me didn't count.

She was covered in a pristine white sheet when they wheeled her out on a gurney to confirm her identity then had the grace to leave me alone with her for a little while.
Her face was so peaceful. She looked as if she was sleeping. With quaking hands, I reached out to touch her waves of white hair. Her forehead was cool to the touch and felt strangely like wax.

Another nurse came in some time later with mom's belongings: her wedding ring, the sketeton key pendant she always wore on a chain, and her clothes. They informed me that the autospy would be done within 48 hours and results should be back within a week - possibly two.

She was kind enough to escort me back to the lobby and asked if I had some numbers to the local funeral homes. She was even kind enough to ask if I had anyone helping me, but I wondered if she was talking about arrangements for mom, or for me, since I hadn't bothered covering up the bruises on my face.

"Dolby Funeral Home," I said in a far-away voice. "They took care of dad when he died."

She nodded and wrote something down in her scratch pad. When she asked about my contact information, I had nothing to say.

"I'm..." (hiding), I thought to myself, "I'll be back with that information tomorrow," I promised.

I placed mom's wedding band on the chain with her old pendant and put it around my neck, feeling the cold metals against my chest. Clutching her clothes, I wandered out to the parking lot and sat in the car for what felt like hours.
I couldn't stay at mom's house. It would be the first place Brian went looking for me.

I quickly checked my purse to see how much money I had. For years I had squirreled away spare change and a few dollars here and there. Money that I'd saved, hidden in the grocery budget.
$2000.00. Not enough to start anew, but enough for a cheap motel room and some food for a couple of weeks.

My first stop was at the convenience store to pick up a carton of cigarettes, a cellphone and some minutes. Then I drove around my childhood neighborhood and found myself parked in front of Jimmy Baker's house. He had been a good friend since we were 5. It never occured to me that he may have moved away. To my utter surprise and relief, he walked out the front door and approached me.

"Lainey? Is that you?" His smile disappeared and his eyebrows creased when he saw my face. He pulled me out of the car and gave me a long hug. My body inherently stiffened and he seemed to reluctantly let go. "I'm sorry to hear about your mother, Lainey. Come inside. Come inside. You look like something the cat dragged in."

I couldn't help but laugh and felt my body ease in his presence.

"You're still Captain Obvious. But no, I don't want to disturb your family."

"Nonsense. There's no one here but me and the dust bunnies. Come inside. I'll get you a cup of coffee."

Two weeks had gone by before I could cross the threshold of my mother's house. I had gotten a call from the hospital earlier in the day to say her autopsy was finished and they needed to speak to me before they could release her body to the funeral home.

And as I stand here in mom's dark and silent house, the x-rays from her autopsy burning my hand, I looked around with a different lens and wondered what kind of hell my mother had gone through in this house.

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Meredith Loughran blogs at ScribblingBandits.com | Follow her on Twitter & SnapChat or LinkedIn

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