Oh Mother

“Sam, it’s time to get up!! You’re late!! Again!!!” The sun is blinding, my head is pounding, and I haven’t had nearly enough sleep or coffee to start this day. “Five more minutes mom! Geez!” I spring up from the couch almost immediately at the realization of my words. I would never hear my mother’s voice again. Because today was the day that I would bury my mother. My seemingly healthy, neurotic, overbearing, beautiful mother. “I’m sorry Liza,” I manage to croak out between sobs. “It’s ok Sam. We knew this day was going to come and we knew it wouldn’t be easy. But mom would hate it if we were late. Let’s get a move on.” “Did we Liza? Know this day was coming? I mean, maybe eventually, but now? Mom was healthier than both of us! She ate well. She walked everywhere. She never even took the elevator if there were stairs for crying out loud.” Tears were streaming down my face as I yell at my sister who I know us barely keeping it together. Liza was so much closer to mom than I was. Truthfully, Liza was always more like my mother than my big sister. But I could never say that to either of them. “I can’t do this with you today Sam! We have to get going. I’ll meet you at the church. There is a package for you on the table. Just got here. I’ve got to go!” And with that, my sister was gone. I run to the bathroom and take the quickest shower I’ve ever taken in this house. I get dressed and as I wander through the kitchen I see a package on the table. There’s nothing special about it. It looks like someone used a brown paper bag as wrapping paper. My name is written out on the cover, ‘SAM’. I don’t recognize the handwriting. It’s not my birthday. And thanks to the divorce, no more anniversary’s for me. I didn’t think to ask Liza if she saw who dropped it off. No matter. I’m late. I grab the package and my keys. I make it out the door before I slam into a solid, tall, and quite muscular tank of a man on my way out. He chuckles I stumble back trying to catch my bearings. “I’m so sorry for the intrusion. I’m looking for Ms. Winters.” “You’re a few days too late. We bury her today. You’re more than welcome to say a proper goodbye at the church downtown,” and with that I’m off. I start the car and throw the package in the passenger seat. I wonder if Mr. Tall and Mysterious, and who am I kidding, unbelievably handsome, will show up there. More importantly, how did he know my mother? I probably should’ve asked. Before I know it, I’m at the church. And it is packed. I knew mom was well knows in our small town, but who would’ve ever thought she’d pack the church? If she could only see it now, she would love this! My mom loved being the talk of the town. We were completely different in that aspect. I tried to be invisible, and that lady made it her mission to know everyone. The funeral dragged on, of course. So many people, expressing their condolences. So many unfamiliar faces, telling me what my mother meant to them. It was far too much. I’d only gotten into town the day before yesterday, when my sister called me and told my mother had died of a heart attack and the funeral was the following day. No notice. No autopsy. No goodbye. Nothing. I make my way to the car just slump over the steering wheel, balling my eyes out. When I’m finally done and completely exhausted, I lean back and look out the window. I notice the package is still sitting there. I guess now is as good a time as any, let’s just get this over with. I open the package and stare at it completely dumbfounded. There are stacks of hundreds, neatly separated and rubber banded just sitting there. ON top sits a little black book. I look through it to see if there is anything that can tell me who sent this and why on earth it was given to me. I can make out my mother’s handwriting on several of the pages, but the writing on one page catches my attention. It’s different. And there’s nothing on any of the pages after this one. So I flip back to that page and am utterly shocked by what it says. “Meet me at the library at 6, in the back and come alone Sam or you’ll end up like you’re mom.” I don’t know what to do. Maybe I should tell Liza. Maybe not. She’d never believe me. And this is so much money! I’ve never seen this much money. I can’t be here! I drive back to my mom’s. Nobody else is here yet. I’m contemplating what I should do. Its 5 now and the library isn’t far from here. How much is here? Against my better judgement, I start to count the money. $20,000. Who the heck would leave me this kind of money? And what happened to my mom? How was she involved? ‘I’ll end up like my mom?’ It’s almost 6 now, and I have more questions than answers, but I have to know. And more importantly, I have to stay alive. I put the package in my bag and run out to the car, throwing it in the backseat. As I drive to the library I groan and ask the one person who is no longer here to answer me, “OH, mom, what did you do now?”