The Rose's Tears, Chapter 1: Final Part

October 4, 2002, McKenzie Lake, Calgary, Alberta, 11:30 am

            Elizabeth and Clara walked along the hillside overlooking the golf course while John and Clare threw leaves at each other.

            “Don’t be too rough, John,” Clara called.

            “Ok, mom.” John said.

            “He’s getting to be really big now,” Elizabeth commented.

            “He really is,” Clara agreed, “although, when he gets growth spurts, it’s kind of painful for him.”

            “Poor kid,” Elizabeth said. “Oh, did you hear about that boy in the kids class whose mom took him and his brother to tour with Cirque du Soleil?” Clara’s jaw dropped.

            “I had no idea that was actually true! I thought John was making things up!” Clara said.

            “No, it’s completely true. We’ll sit at the bench and I’ll explain.” Elizabeth said, sitting down. John looked back and shook his head.

            “My mom didn’t believe me.” He said, “Remind me to thank yours for bringing it up. How come you didn’t go to your dad’s this weekend?”

            “He went to visit grandma,” she said, gathering a pile of leaves.

            “Why didn’t you go see her with him?” John asked. Clare shrugged.

            “She’s sick right now, so maybe that’s why.”

            “Did he not want you to catch it as well?” John asked.

            “Maybe,” she said, “but I can’t help feeling that mom and dad are keeping secrets” John sat next to Clare on his pile of leaves.

            “What would they be hiding?” John asked.

            “I don’t know, but something big,” Clare answered. John stood up, grabbed his pile and dumped it on Clare’s head. Clare shrieked and grabbed John’s legs, causing him to fall backwards into the bush.

            “Hey you guys, be careful!” Elizabeth called. Clara leaned back into the bench and smiled at the children.

            “He started it!” Clare yelled back.

            “No I didn't, she's a liar!” John joked, trying to get back to his feet.

            “Is Gerald doing ok?” she asked.

            “No, his mother is really sick.” Elizabeth said.

            “Has it gotten worse?” Clara asked. Elizabeth nodded.

            “It was worse than they thought, they’re going to stop chem-o.” Clara’s jaw dropped.

            “Oh my god! That’s terrible.” She said. Elizabeth nodded.

            “Yeah, I feel bad for him. He’s been through a lot,” Elizabeth sighed and looked back at the kids, who were pushing each other into leaves. “I put him through a lot.”

            “Does Clare know about her grandmother?” Clara asked. Elizabeth shook her head.

            “I’m afraid to tell her,” Elizabeth said. Clara sighed and shook her head.

            “There’s way too much you haven’t told her,” she said, “It isn’t really fair that you two are keeping so many secrets.” Elizabeth leaned forward and buried her face in her hands.

            “I know we do,” she moaned, “but I want to tell her when she is older.”

            “She’s very mature, Liz,” Clara said, “I’m sure she’ll be able to come to terms with it.” Elizabeth looked forward at Clare and John, who were now lying down, looking up at the clouds.

            “I'm just not ready to talk to her about it, yet,” Elizabeth said, “neither is Gerald, and I promised him that he could be there when I told her.” Clara nodded

            “Do you think he's still in love with you?” she asked.

            “I have no doubt in my mind that he does,” Elizabeth said, “but I dunno how I feel toward him.”

            “Don't worry about it,” Clara said, “you'll figure it out in time. It’s almost noon, why don’t you say we all get lunch?” Elizabeth agreed and stood up with Clara.

            “Come on, kids. She said, “Let’s go eat.” John and Clare jumped up started walking back to the pathway.

            “Maybe tonight, you and I can talk about it some more and we can think of what their hiding,” John whispered. Clare nodded and zipped her lips, to which John agreed to.

Kelowna, British Columbia, October 5, 2002, same time.

            Gerald helped his mother, Ellen, out of his car and into the wheelchair waiting in front of them, and then proceeded to wheel her through the hospice doors. After many discussions with the doctors and paperwork filled out, Gerald helped Ellen into her bed; her room overlooked Lake Okanagan. Ellen looked out of the window, taking in deep sighs.

            “Did you want me to open the window, mom?” Gerald asked.

            “No thank you,” Ellen said, “it's too chilly.”

            “Might be good to get some air in here though,” Gerald said, walking over to the window. Ellen grabbed Gerald’s wrist, stopping him.

            “I said no, Gerald.” She said. Gerald hesitated before sitting back in the chair; he suddenly felt uncomfortable, as if Ellen didn’t want him to be there.

            “Well, what do you think of the place, mom?” Gerald asked, trying to brighten the mood glooming over the room. Ellen rolled her eyes.

            “It’s plain, it’s cold and I’m going to die here,” she joked bitterly, turning to face her son, “what do you think I think of the place?” Gerald stood, as if to leave, but Ellen snapped her fingers, stopping him.

            “Don’t you dare leave while I’m talking,” she snapped, “sit back down!” Gerald sighed and sunk back into the chair, crossing his arms. Ellen sneered at Gerald, feeling angry and annoyed. “What kind of stupid question is that?” Gerald shrugged. “I want an answer Gerald!”
            “I don’t know, mom. I don’t know you that well, remember?” Gerald snapped.

            “Don’t you dare talk to me like that, ever! You understand me?” Ellen barked. Gerald stood and began marching to the door. “And now you’re leaving me here. How does that make you feel, abandoning your mother like this?” Gerald stopped at the door and shrugged.

            “What do you want me to say, mom?” Gerald countered.

            “What I want is for you to stop thinking about yourself and be less greedy!” Ellen screamed, “I’m in here because you chose to spend your money on that Elizabeth whore and her whore child!” Gerald almost lunged at Ellen, but stopped himself after two steps.

            “She’s nine years old, mom, for Christ’s sake!” Gerald said.

            “She’ll be a whore if she grows up with that whore-woman,” Ellen bellowed. By now, a group of guests, patients and nurses began to gather outside the door, concerned about what was going on. Gerald shook his head, a disgusted look on his face.

            “Let me make this clear, mother,” he said, pointing at her, “Clare is my daughter no matter who conceived her. I am her only father and Elizabeth and I agreed to this and will keep it this way.” Ellen snickered before coughing a fit and bringing her breathing mask to her face. She looked back at her son, the shame in her eyes so visible it might as well have been lightened up with fluorescents. Gerald finally turned and left, Ellen’s laughter echoing through the hallway. Gerald entered his car and drove onto the highway, headed back east, not wanting to stay in town another minute.