October 6, Willow Park, 12:13 am
Elizabeth felt very restless, staring at a spot on her ceiling; her head had been aching for a while now. She rolled over and hid her face, wincing in pain.
Mind over matter, don’t think about it and it will go away, she thought, but she knew it was useless. She stood up, walked to her bathroom and took two Motrin pills. She hung over her sink and took deep, slow breaths in and out. The doorbell suddenly rang, breaking her relaxation. She slowly moved down the stairs with a bat in her hand, not wanting to take any chances. She moved towards the door as she readied the bat.
“Who is it?” she called.
“It’s Gerald,” the person answered. Elizabeth sighed with some relief and set the bat down, unlocked the door and let Gerald in.
“Come in,” she welcomed. Gerald hesitantly entered as Elizabeth locked the door behind them.
“Sorry, did I wake you?” Gerald asked, “Wait, of course I did.”
“You didn’t,” Elizabeth said. Gerald turned and gave Elizabeth a puzzled look.
“I didn’t? But it’s almost 12:30.” He said.
“You’re not drunk, are you?” Elizabeth asked. Gerald shook his head. “Want a glass of wine?”
“If that’s ok with you,” Gerald said, following Elizabeth into the kitchen. “I’m sorry to disturb you at this time; I needed someone to talk to”
“Did it not go very well with your mother?” Elizabeth asked, taking the wine bottle out of the fridge and removing the cork. Gerald sighed and sat at the island counter.
“No,” he said, “but I’m guessing you’re not surprised.”
“Not particularly,” Elizabeth said. She poured two glasses of red wine and slid a glass to Gerald; he picked it up and sniffed it.
“She went so far as to say I’m being too selfish and spending my money on worthless things,” he recollected.
“I’m guess that would be me?” Elizabeth asked sarcastically.
“Yeah, but what she doesn’t understand is that it’s child support,” Gerald said, thinking, “Although I believe that’s what she meant.”
“What did she say about me this time?” Elizabeth asked. Gerald shook his head.
“You don’t want to know,” he warned.
“No, I can take it,” Elizabeth assured, sitting down. Gerald took a sip of wine and rubbed his forehead.
“Just the usual: that you’re a whore,” he said, then his eyes sank, “but she added that Clare is a whore just by being your offspring,” Elizabeth looked disgusted.
“What a bitch! How dare she-“Elizabeth stopped herself mid-sentence, feeling insensitive. Gerald snickered.
“You can go on, Liz,” he said, “I’ve been calling my mom a bitch and worse since I was 15.”
“She really had to bring Clare into all this?” Elizabeth asked. Gerald nodded.
“She's my mother,” he said, “I'm sorry that she keeps this up. Speaking of Clare, I hope I didn’t wake her,” Elizabeth shook her head.
“She’s having a sleepover with John,” she explained. Gerald finished his glass of wine and pushed the glass away from him; Elizabeth was about to pour him some more, but Gerald stopped her. Instead, she poured herself another glass. “So, how come you came here to talk instead of…somewhere else?”
“Mostly because this whole thing had to do with you,” Gerald explained, “Mom’s still really bitter about…July ’92.” Elizabeth felt sick remembering that night; she thought about it a lot as it lingered in the front of her mind.
“Can’t say I blame her,” she muttered.
“Well, I can,” Gerald sighed, angrily, “what happened, happened and there’s nothing that can be done about that, and I have no hard feelings over it. Why should she?”
“Because you’re her son,” Elizabeth said. Gerald snickered bitterly.
“She never treated me like one,” he said, “this may be horrible to say, but I cannot wait for her to pass away,” Elizabeth agreed with Gerald, but was reluctant to say anything; she knew Ellen had been abusive to Gerald and never wanted him, so it was no surprise that Gerald felt completely distant from Ellen.
“Why do you still help her with things though?” she asked. Gerald scratched his head, his cheeks turning red.
“Mostly so I could show her that I’ve done more for her than she’s done for me.” He explained, “But that’s all done now. I’m not even going to her funeral.” Elizabeth felt surprised; this wasn’t like Gerald to say things like that.
“It’s your mother, Gerald. Even if she was a bitch, she is still your mother,” Elizabeth said.
“No, Liz,” Gerald said, “it took me until moving her into the hospice that she really isn’t.” Elizabeth frowned, unsure of what to say.
“Won’t you’re family be frustrated seeing as you went to my parents funerals and not your own mothers?”
“You see, the thing is,” Gerald began, “your parents treated me more like a son. I felt that they saw me as a good thing in your life.”
“I’m sorry that I didn’t end up returning the favour,” Elizabeth said. She winced again as sharp pains stabbed at the front of her head.
“You ok, Liz?” Gerald asked. Elizabeth nodded.
“I just have a headache, it's the reason I've been unable to sleep,” she explained. Gerald reached out his hand and gestured to Elizabeth.
“Her, give me your hand,” he said.
“It's alright, Gerald,” Elizabeth assured.
“Trust me, Liz,” Gerald insisted. Elizabeth reached out her hand and Gerald pinched a spot between Elizabeth’s thumb and index finger. Almost immediately, her headache began to subside.
“It's actually working,” she said, amazed.
“There's a pressure point that relieves pressure from your head,” Gerald explained, “how's that?”
“It's getting better,” Elizabeth said, “thank you, Gerald.”
“Consider it my thanks for hearing me out tonight,” Gerald said, “and a thanks for the wine.” Gerald stood up and brushed himself off. “I should get going, it's really late,” Elizabeth nodded, leading Gerald to the door. “I'll, uh, pick up Clare next Friday.”
“You guys have anything planned?” Elizabeth asked.
“Thinking of seeing a movie,” Gerald said, “but we’ll make up a plan as we go,”
“Just get out of the house next weekend,” Elizabeth pleaded, “and make sure she gets her homework done.” Gerald laughed.
“Don’t worry, Liz,” he assured, I always do. Thank you for the wine and conversation.”
“No problem,” Elizabeth said, “good luck with your mother.” Gerald waved and exited the house. Elizabeth locked the front door and thought for a moment, looking at her hand.
He was right; she thought to herself smiling, it does feel better. She smiled and then walked back upstairs to bed.
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