Family Ties

The two best friends sat cross-legged in the living room. The table that stood before them was a beehive of surly activities. Bills from service charges, appeals from charity, weekly magazine covers, etc. Too many papers were strewn over the floor, and clips and cuts from newspaper appeared to decorate the table idly.

It was their first time together in the house after weeks of endless unsuccessful chemo sessions.

Asides from the table and its papery chaos, the other parts of the house looked too antithetical to be closely related. The mini bookshelf that stood oddly placed at the farther end of the room was impeccably and neatly arranged like no one had touched it in years, even though Annette just finished reading her third book after her return from hospital.

The house was a big mansion that lacked the activities of children.

A large picture frame stood in the middle of the large and fancy living room. The picture of the complete Annette Becker family.

Everyone in the frame wore a smile that glinted with genuine happiness. Carefree, excited, and truly content with the blessings of life. It was the photo of an ideal black, rich and lovely family.

At least that was what it was before the great tragedy had happened, sending this family that appeared to have an unbreakable bond to the farther ends of the Earth. Away from each other. Away from their mother.

Annette walked towards the table, bent slowly, and ruffled the sheets of paper strewn carelessly over the living room table like she was trying to search for something.

“Do you think this would even work?” Brenda, her best and only remaining friend, asked in hesitation.

This was not the first time she was asking this same question. They both had their doubts about the decision they were going to take. This decision would either tear the family farther apart forever or bring them back closer than they once were.

“I can’t say anything about that Brenda,” Annette replied. “I truly do not know what the next minute holds. I’ve learned not to worry about the future. Jacob’s death taught me that much about life. We really cannot know everything my dear, the most we can do is try.”

She started at the desk, pen in hand, paper in the other. Her resolve, as unyielding as never before. This was the time for definite redemption, and she was willing to take the bull by the horn even if it meant paying a visit to the throes of hell and back.

She pulled herself from the desk, deep in thought, and began to pace again. The lines on her face looked deeper, concentrated, and hard. Small pebbles of sweat formed at the top of her forehead, and her breath broke out in uneven pangs as if she had just concluded a marathon.

Brenda looked on as Annette paced and felt a great pity for her dear friend. The bright-colored scarf she had on her head did very little to conceal the bald patch. Life had once been good to Annette, but now, it looked like life was only out to suck her dry until she became the most piteous version of herself.

Annette had once been such a beautiful woman. It was hard to believe that even such beauty could expire under the strains of time. Cancer was indeed a treacherous bastard!

“I understand you completely and I also want to take another route on this matter,” Annette continued, drawing Brenda from her loose thoughts back into reality, “but if we fail to consider the possible ramifications of the actions we intend to take today, wouldn’t we be putting ourselves in a dreary place of denial?”

A loud whistle interrupted from the kitchen.

It was the kettle shrieking loudly to signify it was time to make some hot tea.

They both envied the kettle at that moment and wished they could express their fury about life in such a way—without fear, respect, or favor, based on their circumstantial feelings.

Annette’s fury would be directed toward her children and their jabbing greed. And Brenda, to other matters of her life that needed a scowl of displeasure.

Brenda bristled past Annette hurriedly and hit the OFF button to get the kettle to shut up. She’d been in the house so many times that she could almost describe it like the palm of her hands. Indeed it was Annette’s Mansion but five years after Jacob’s death, the two women had drawn even closer. Close enough to have Brenda stay the complete week if she felt like it.

As she poured the hot water into two large cups of coffee, she looked around at the quiet kitchen and knew it would not remain this quiet for too long. They were going to make a tough decision today. A decision that would decide whether Annette’s children would care to come to her death bed or even desire to bury her at all, once Annette finally surrendered to death.

They were going to play a dubious game of treachery. And only God could save them from the wrath of the young and unforgiving.

“Are you coming with the coffee or what?” Annette called out from the living room.

“I’d be with you shortly,” Brenda yelled back quickly rousing herself from her reverie. She paused for a brief moment once more, sighed, and did a quick sign of the cross as she muttered a rushed Hail Mary. She entered the living room with the tray that held two mugs of coffee and crackers. “Have you made up your mind then?” Brenda asked.

“I’ve been thinking—well, that’s what I’ve been doing half my life now, and I know what I must do. It is not what I feel convenient doing, but it is what must be done.”

“Annette….I…” Brenda muttered hoping to convince her against the idea, even though she knew it was fruitless. If there was anything about Annette she admired, it was her ability to make a decision and stick solely to it. Her friend’s decision would only quicken her death, and she knew this… but it must be done. It was her husband’s will after all.

“Brenda, please. It’s my decision, and I know you’d respect that, wouldn’t you? I have to do this now, while I’ve got the chance to. You of all people know that there’s no time left anyway.”

Annette picked up the teacup, sipped a little and watched the steam evaporate into thin air, and continued, “Time is for the young, and not for the feeble and wrinkled like me. My husband’s spirit hovers in this house. I can feel his approval. That’s all the confidence I need to move on, my dear friend.”

They both stared at the huge frame that contained the image of the complete family—The Becker Family. Jacob stood with eyes so grey and dark and full of wisdom, it seemed like he was staring hard at them at that moment, sending goosebumps up Brenda’s skin. Sometimes, she tried not to stare too long at the frame. At Jacob. It reminded her of so many things from the past that she’d be willing to forget.

This house used to be filled with so much laughter, joy, love, and good memories. Now all that was left was sullen silence. Annette wondered why all those good times had to fly away so fast anyway. How and why that tragedy had to happen 5 years ago. It was the irony of life. How you can have so much at once, and lose it all the next minute. Everything was as fickle as time itself.

Brenda stole a look at the frame again and caught herself wishing she had the privileges that came with the Becker name herself. The Becker Family had so much money, Annette could buy a quarter of Africa on a whim. Yet here she was, with so much power attached to her name, yet a puppet in reality. Suppressed and constrained by her family and life. Subjected to a Chemo machine, and an ugly yellow scarf. It was scary. Regardless, it was time to bring them all back. It was time to amend the past.

The wall clock struck 2, sending bouts and ripples of electricity round the quiet Mansion. Spurring the two women into action.

“It’s time, Brenda.”

“It’s time, Annette.”

They jumped simultaneously like two women about to begin preparations for a cult ritual.

“Please read the letter one more time dear Brenda. I need to make sure everything sounds just as it should.”

Annette slowly lowered herself into the closest rocking chair, as Brenda read the email out to her. She watched the sunshine bright from the glamorous curtain nearby, and wished that hope would shine in her family like the sun again, as she listened to Brenda read;

“Dear children,
Annette is requesting to speak with you specially. Her recent visit to the doctor only reminds her that time has little or no relevance anymore.
Won’t you perhaps oblige your mother’s dying wish?
Come home. I would love to see you again.“

Annette listened to her best friend for 45 years, read the email, and wondered if she was not making the biggest mistake of her life. Bringing all of them back to the mansion would only reawaken old memories of treachery, loss, and terror.

The kids would hate her even more than they did for a crime she had not committed. She had to clear her name. She had to clear her doubts. Even though it was scary to do so, she knew that was the most difficult and only route to take.

And she would take it anyway.

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All images are sourced from pexels.com; & istockphotos