The Night My Mom Died

The air in the cafeteria was chilly with the night breeze. I was still riding a wave of adrenaline from my performance with my middle school honor band. Parents were meeting their kids, congratulating them for a job well done, and everyone began funneling out to the parking lot.

I packed up my clarinet and entered the flow of people leaving the building. It was a strange feeling to be out so late on a Wednesday night.

I had my mom's cellphone, so I could call her to pick me up when the concert was done. She decided to stay home with my sister, and my dad was on a business trip for the week. In the early 2000s, no kid had a cellphone unless you were in high school. The only way to reach anyone was by payphone or if your parents lent you their cellphone.

Classmates waved goodnight, draped with various congratulatory necklaces filled with candy. I waved goodnight as I dialed home. The phone rang on the other end.

"Hey," my mom's voice sounded sleepy on the phone.

"Hey. I'm done. Could you come pick me up? I'm outside of the cafeteria," my voice was shaky.

"Sure. I'll be there in… 15," she responded, even drowsier than before.

I hung up and tucked the phone in my jacket pocket. I stood near the pick-up/drop-off lane of the school's parking lot and waited. I watched as the cars began to vacate, and soon the air felt like it lost the static it had only 20 minutes ago. It was quiet.

A building up the hill seemed bright against the dark. The teachers had gathered to talk about their student's performance. I could smell the food-an after-concert party. 

As the minutes passed, I began to feel dizzy.

"Are you waiting for someone?"

I turned around, embarrassed. My band teacher, Mr. Kim, was behind me.

"Yeah. I'm waiting for my mom," I felt my cheeks heat up.

"Okay, do you want to come inside and wait? It's getting a little cold out here, and you can see the parking lot from the door," Mr. Kim pointed toward the bright room up the hill.

"Sure. Let me call my mom one more time,"

My teacher nodding and walked back up the hill.

I redialed my home. Putting the phone to my ear, I heard a busy signal.

Maybe she's trying to call me. She might have gotten lost.

My heart started to beat fast. I dialed home again-busy signal.

Maybe someone called, and she's stuck on the phone…

I hung up. I waited a few minutes and called again-busy signal.

As my heart inched its way into my throat with each threatening beat, I could hear my blood rushing in my ears.

What's happening?

I felt like I couldn't breathe, and all I could hear was the constant beep from the other line.

On the verge of passing out, I made my way up to the teacher's lounge. The moment I walked through the doorway, tears started streaming down my face, and I started hyperventilating. I couldn't control any of my emotions. I didn't know where my mom was, and I couldn't think of anyone else to call.

Mr. Kim swiftly walked over to me and guided me outside. A couple of other teachers followed, and some peaked through the doorway at me.

I couldn't control the tears or random bursts of irregular breathing.

"I. Don't. Know. Where. My. Mom. Is!" I choked out.

"Okay. It's okay. Let's get you home," Mr. Kim rubbed my back, trying to calm me.

"I. Can't. Leave… What if…what. If. She comes. Here. And I'm. Not. Here?" I couldn't control any word that came out of my mouth. The teachers seemed to understand and only tried to comfort me.

"If she comes here, one of the teachers will tell her you've been taken home. Don't worry. Let's get you home," A shorter lady reassured me. "What's your mom's name?"

"Carla…" I sniffled.

"Okay. Shannon, come one. Let's go." Mr. Kim ushered me towards his car.

I took a deep breath and got in.

Maybe she's still home… Maybe she's still home.

The entire drive home, I kept my eyes scanning the streets outside. Maybe she got a flat tire, and she's stuck on the side of the road.

The closer I got home, the more at ease I felt. This would all be a bad dream.

We pulled up to my house. I thanked Mr. Kim, grabbed my clarinet, and went inside the gate.

I looked in the garage and didn't see my mom's car. My heart began to beat again.

Maybe she just left.

I went inside and learned why I kept getting a busy signal.

My parents had those chairs where you flipped up the cushions. One side had a little storage hole, and the other had a phone.

My mom's chair cushions lay open. The phone beeped off the hook, and the TV remote sat in the phone's receiver cradle. The TV was still on. Half a glass of wine sat on a coaster. It was like walking into a crime scene.

I checked my sister's room, and she wasn't there, so I checked my dad's office upstairs.

She sat at my dad's desk, glued to her computer game. Our dad's computer screen was much larger than hers, and she made herself at home while my dad was on business trips.

"Hey. Is mom home?" I asked, a little shaken up.

"No. She went to pick you up," my sister responded without even turning around.

I was not only surprised at my sister's inability to realize I was home but asking where our mom was but that she didn't seem bothered in the slightest.

"How long ago did she leave?" I asked.

"I don't know. Like an hour," my sister answered, uninterested.

The phone started to ring.

I went to my parent's room and answered the phone.

"Mom?!" I could only think she would be the one to call.

"Hello? Is this the Moose residence?" A man's voice asked on the other end.

"Yes. This is Shannon," I said. My heart started pounding again.

"This is the Military Police Department. We have your mother in custody. She ran into a parked car on our military base. Is there anyone who can pick her up?" The man on the other end had a matter-of-fact tone.

"No. I don't know. Me and my sister can't drive, and our dad isn't home," I started crying.

"Okay. Do you know anyone who has access to the military base?" The man lacking emotions asked.

"I think so… is she okay?" A mixture of fear and relief washed over me that my mom was at least alive.

"She tripped getting out of the car and has scratches on her face. Can you call someone to pick her up? Thank you." The man hung up.

My entire body began to shake involuntarily. I picked up the phone and dialed my friend's phone number. It was late, and I was hoping it wouldn't upset anyone.

"Hello?" My friend's mom answered the phone.

"Hi, Mrs. Campbell… it's Shannon," My voice shook.

"Shannon. It's late. Kristen is asleep,"

"No. I know. I'm sorry," I started to cry, and with each word I had to choke out, "My mom got in an accident, and she's on the military base. Can you pick her up?"

"Isn't your father home?" She asked.

"No…he's away on a business trip… I didn't know who else to call. I'm sorry!" I felt embarrassed. I knew why my mom had gotten into an accident.

"Okay. Sure. I'll pick her up. It'll be okay, Shannon," She hung up, and I sat crying.

The entire time my sister stayed stuck on her computer game.

I waited at the window facing the street for Mrs. Campbell's car the pull up. I felt so tired. My body stopped shaking, and I thought about how I would make it to school. If I could wake up, I can't miss school.

I considered how awkward it would be to confront my band teacher the next day. He would certainly ask questions. Do I tell him the truth?

My mom had been inching her way into alcoholism and mixing wine with oxycodone. Of course, I didn't know the name of the drug because I was only 12. But, her words became more and more slurred. Her eyes looked heavier and heavier each day. I couldn't tell when she was sober.

When she drove me anywhere, I feared for my life. I would glance over the see her eyes struggle to stay open. Some nights, I heard her vomiting in the bathroom.

No one talked about it. I didn't know what was happening to my mom. My dad regarded her actions as "weak." He would say she just needed to stop. Simple as that.

I didn't understand the reality of addiction. I didn't understand the hold it had on people. I believed my dad. Why couldn't she just stop?

Headlights pulled into the driveway, and I ran downstairs to open the garage.

Mrs. Campbell came around the open the passenger door. My mom spilled out of the door and tried to stand. Mrs. Campbell helped her upstairs to her room, and I walked her out.

"Is there any way you could… stay the night? Please?" I felt so alone.

"I'm sorry, honey. I need to be home in the morning. My girls have school tomorrow. It's going to be okay. You have a goodnight," Mrs. Campbell got into her car and drove off.

I watched as her car grew smaller.

The night felt like a black hole.

I heard a thump upstairs. I turned and went inside, closing the garage door behind me.

When I got back into my parent's room, I saw my mom trying to find something.

"They stole my watch! They stole my ring! I need to go back for it!" My mom was searching for her car keys, but those seemed to be missing too.

"You can't drive. You don't even have a car," I barked hopelessly at my mom.

"Your father's truck is here, isn't it?" She was hunched over. She looked possessed.

I frantically looked for the keys, hoping to get them before she found them.

"Just go to sleep. You can get them in the morning," I instructed.

There's an odd feeling when you have to order your parent to do something they would usually tell you to do. I was now the responsible one. My sister, my older sister, had gone to her room and shut her door. Perhaps I should have done the same. But, here I was, trying to get my mother to get back in bed so we could put this night behind us.

She eventually gave up and laid down.

"I'm just going to kill myself. Your father is going to kill me anyway," my mom whispered in the dark of the room.

Her comment sent a chill down my spine.

I was lying next to her, making sure she didn't end up leaving the house.

"Don't kill yourself…" is all I could muster.

"Well, either way, I'm dead."

I lay awake, unable to close my eyes. The snores from my mom weren't enough to ensure her safety.

What if she wakes up while I'm asleep… I could never forgive myself.

The sun's rays crept into the room, and I decided to close my eyes for a couple of minutes.

I needed to get ready for school.