The Burden
by Ryan King
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2012 Ryan King
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It was terrifying getting old, mused Ethan. Things started to break down and reality was something to be questioned and constantly tested. It was, in a way, a living nightmare, one that only ended with the release of death. He was old enough himself to qualify for all those condescending discounts but not so infirm as to have his children or grandchildren want to imprison him in assisted living purgatory. Ethan was well aware of those communities of the unwanted, the modern day leper colonies where friends and relatives mostly visited out of guilt, sadness, or pity. He knew them better than he wanted to, he thought, as he walked into the front doors of one he’d placed his mother in six years ago.
Ethan was already retired, a grown man who had served one harrowing tour in Vietnam and raised a family of his own, but he was still afraid of his mother. Dolly Mathews was not someone to be taken lightly. Widowed twice she had run a murderously rough honky-tonk bar until it had burned down one night and religion had helped her get sober for good. By then Ethan had already been discharged from the army and was working the barges on the Mississippi. It was dangerous and difficult work, but it paid well. Fortunately, he was smarter than most and only needed to see able men crushed between loaded coal barges a couple of times to figure out there had to be better way. He’d taken advantage of his G.I. Bill and gotten a plumber’s license and eventually his own business which he’d quietly and steadily built into the largest plumbing business in West Tennessee. There might be a recession going on, but shit still rolled downhill and Mathews Plumbing and Supply made sure which direction.
Even so, his mother had a way of making him feel like he was five years old, especially now. She was out of her mind most of the time, living in the memories of days gone by. Even when she recognized him, it was often as Little Ethan. The doctors said it was understandable given his mother’s condition, but frankly it freaked him the hell out. Listening to her talk made him almost question if those years since childhood had really happened. Leaving the retirement home after one of those visits made him feel like he had vertigo.
The doctors were no help. They said nothing was wrong with her, yet everything was wrong with her. What did that even mean? Did they make this stuff up? She was in wonderful health for a woman of ninety-three who still smoked four cigarettes a day...but, was ninety-three after all. There was nothing the doctors could fix because there was nothing to fix. It was all wearing out but still working and Ethan knew at this point it was all a waiting game. He had been surprised by how terrifying the idea of life without his mother might be.
He paused at her doorway and listened before moving into her small private room. Ethan hoped to get a sense of her state of mind but heard nothing, only a soap opera turned on very low on the television. Ethan steeled himself, put on his best smile, and plunged forward.
Dolly Mathews was dressed and sitting in her chair and looked...well, wonderful. Her back was to him, but he could see that age lay upon her like a regal mantel and Ethan thought that in a different age she could have been a great matriarch or a queen. Instead she was at the end of the road, and Ethan had a nearly overwhelming urge to ask her how she felt about it all. Did she feel good about her life? Was it all worth it? Any regrets? But those were not the things you asked a loved-one closing in on the final stop of the road to life, because by now it was too late. What was done was done.
“Ethan, you going to stand there all day or come on in?” asked his mother without turning around.
He moved forward with a wry smile and kissed his mother’s check. She seemed okay. That was good, his nerves couldn’t take any of that “who are you?” crap today. He pulled up a chair and studied her face closely. She turned back to the television and looking at her profile he saw that without the grey streaks in her jet black hair and a few of the deeper wrinkles his mother could pass for a much younger woman. Her proud nose, high cheek-bones, and dark eyes belied the Welsh stock the family was traditionally rumored to have originated from. Despite his mother’s appearance, Ethan thought it was likely all bull. They were all mongrels now and probably had as much Eskimo blood in their veins as Welsh.
Dolly finally looked at him with clear eyes and a hint of humor. “It won’t be long now, son.”
Ethan was too much at a loss for words to act like he didn’t know what she was talking about. “Mom, that’s crazy talk and you know it, the doctor said you’re doing great.”
His mother snorted and turned back to her soap opera. On the television a stunningly beautiful woman and an extremely handsome man acted out a scene with pathetic artificiality. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” Before Ethan could speak she continued on, “My mind is going. Body’s not too good either, not as bad as some poor souls in this place, but one serious bout of flu or even a cold could do me in. I’m old, comes with the territory, but I never counted on losing my...myself.”
Ethan didn’t know what to say and just put his hand on his mother’s. He could feel her pulse through the thin skin. It felt steady and strong and gave him comfort. She covered his hand with her other.
“I ever tell you how your daddy and I got married?” she asked.
Ethan smiled, “Yes, mom, he was on furlough from the war in the Pacific. You were working at one of the armaments factory in Milan and he bumped into you at that diner you showed me on Main. You were married a few days later.”
Dolly frowned, “Not your father, not the one you grew up with, not Harold. Your birth father, Jimmy. Jimmy Claybourne.”
Ethan frowned, his mother almost never talked about his biological father and then only in brief passing. It was so long ago, and he had died just after Ethan was born, not much to tell really.
His mother took a sip of water from a plastic cup on the night stand and turned off the television. This instantly filled Ethan with an unnamed fear. She never turned off the television. He suddenly had an irrational desire to turn the television back on, or call for a nurse, tell his mom that he didn’t care about any old stories. Instead, he sat frozen and silent.
“It was the summer of ’35 and the depression was bad, but honestly not that noticeable. Everyone was poor and scratching to get by in little Humbolt, Tennessee even when things were good, so it wasn’t as big a difference as in some places. I was still in school, which was rare for a girl my age, but we were pretty well off. My daddy was the county sheriff, and he always found ways to bring home money.” She smiled, but said this with obvious distaste. Ethan was mesmerized despite his unease and found himself carried away by his mother’s tale. Her voice was calm, relaxed, and more importantly, aware.
Ethan knew of Humbolt. In his early youth there were visits every year to see the Hallick Family, a widespread and loosely confederated group of people who had lived on the same lands since their forefathers had crossed over from the Carolinas and settled them nearly two hundred years earlier. Even though he was related by blood to the Hallicks, they made it plain with their sidelong looks and overdone politeness, that neither he, nor his mother, were truly considered one of them. These visits stopped completely when his grandmother died, and Ethan, for one, had been grateful. He also remembered his grandfather clearly. Sheriff Milo Hallick was a hulk of a man with a big voice and dangerous eyes. Ethan remembered more than anything the fear the man inspired. In his old age Ethan would describe his grandfather as mercurial, but as a young boy he felt as if he were playing with his neighbor’s pet raccoon. Most of the time it was friendly, but you just knew that without warning it could turn and tear your face off.
“You father was never scared of Daddy,” said his mother breaking his thoughts, “I guess that’s one of the things that drew me to Jimmy. When he asked Daddy’s permission to marry me, Paw without a word punched Jimmy in the face.” Dolly laughed a little, “Jimmy just stood up, looked my father in the eye and said, ‘I guess that means you’re not givin’ us your blessin.’ Three nights later we eloped.”
Ethan had never heard any of this. His biological father was a thing of myth and not entirely real in his mind. He had not even seen a photograph of Jimmy Claybourne. The only father he’d known had been the one who raised him as his own.