Anna closed her eyes. She was tired as her mother was. But soon she forgot her fatigue looking at her poor mother sitting there with the light weighted blanket over her shoulder and looking at her with spiritless eyes. "What is she feeling?" Anna thought. "what is she thinking? Does she think I am here because it is a right thing to visit your sick mother?" She could see the meaningless smile in the corner of her mother's mouth which did not match the misery she was going through.
Her mother had done things that she had never imagined, had said words that constantly echoed in her ears, and had asked questions of past, her past which Anna was not sure how to answer them when she was well. Now in that colorless nursing home full of artificial colors, she was just contented with the little importance of present. And what was the glory to her? Anna did not know.
She studied Alzheimer disease and talked to her mother's doctor; however the conclusion was that this dreadful monster was not curable and gradually all brain cells would die or be damaged beyond repair. Her mother's symptoms were not only memory loss which was typical for this disease, but it was also enfeebled disablement in her mental and bodily functional conduct. How long would she last so the suffering would end? Nobody knew.
At one point, Anna decided to take her mom back home and hire a nurse, but Fatie's doctor thought that was not a good idea. She needed round a clock observation and care. There was no possibility for Anna to give that attention to her mother. A nurse would not stay 24/7. She looked into her mother's hollow eyes that blinked uncontrollably. Her face was as white as the color of her hair. "Mom, talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking!" Anna would ask Fatie hoping she might one day answer her.
She found all these by no means consoling and doubted if there was any virtue in the fairness of God. By the law of nature, she knew all living things should die one day; but could it be any easy, painless death instead of a prolonged disease, or the killing of the enemy, or the massacre of people who had different opinion or religion? How Could God create people like Hitler or Khomeini, or the dictators that wanted everything for themselves? She just could not grip any longer the pain in her mother's bony face.
After a year Fatie being in the nursing home with all the medical expenses and the cost of the hotel like nursing home which the insurance covered only a small portion of it, and medicare had sent her a letter that her mother had used all her benefits, Anna was drained of energy and money; but she still was getting her check from CIA and she still was working but not full time anymore because of caring for her mother. The reduction of money and energy for the first time affected her in a very peculiar way. She looked at people without problem, she assumed, and faintly and sardonically envied them contrary to a smile on her face. Her life, she thought, since she was a teenager to present that she was a grown up woman had been one misery and disaster after the other.
She was glad that she was single, away from the emotion of being in love with a man; for falling in love to her could not happen more than once. However she still remembered the intensity and fervor of her first love. It had been passion, fire, and a strain, too. But now at age forty one, she looked at married couple with children and then looked at her empty life, empty bed, the responsibilities, and all the tragedies. Was life worth all these? She did not even remember how it was to sleep with a man or have an orgasm. No, she just did not have any memory of it; no remembrance of warmth, comfort, love, passion, or even kissing or snuggling. Suddenly everything was dark.
All these non- existing memories took her back more into herself, into her despondency, and introspection. They all had been her demons for many years. Her letter to Stacy remained unanswered; so she had finally given up. Seeing her mother everyday, she also wondered if her mother in her non- functioning state, felt as she did. Wanting to believe that her mother was still thinking and feeling, she wondered if that old soul traveled into her past with Anna, her daughter, who was an oblivious witness of her mother's fancy.
Fatie was so silent yet reflective that Anna thought that she could swiftly erase not only herself but her soul and spirit which would startle her daughter. Anna tried to read her mind, to see if there were any feelings or thought left there; but disappointed she knew that the people around her mother did not mean anything to her; and world had just lost its glory to her so had for Anna. Her mother had passed that line between awareness and numbness, and she had chosen the second one with no return.
In one of her vision, she recalled her first sight of Iran, thirteen years ago, when something had stormed into her soul like a sudden rain. Then she had just oscillated thanking God for seeing that sacred land again in which her ancestors had cried, lived, died; and in which she was born. Now that land, to her, was gone, so were her fathers and mothers. The greatness of it was over. That land had slain her dreams.
Now confidence was not a quality she valued. In fact, she valued nothing, for she did not want to get disheartened by her own self- assurance. Occasional elation she felt, was like a drunken ecstasy. She hardly could rescue herself from her dark prison, her mind's prison.
One afternoon in December, a sudden cold front came through Dallas from west. The twenty degree temperature pierced her through. She remembered that morning she had all the windows open. Since her mother's rescue from Turkey, Anna lived on a first floor apartment which had two full bath. At the time she wanted to do every right thing for her mother. This place had north and side windows that Anna always opened them to air the house. That was how most houses in Iran were built. Having fresh air was one of her luxuries; and she knew that her mother liked it, too. Now this; the famous saying that Texas weather changes with a blink of an eye. It was Friday and she was happy that she did not have to work for the next three days. Mary had asked her if she wanted to go Christmas shopping with her and then have dinner at the Mal. Anna had nobody to shop for except a few people from work. She had already picked up Mary's present; nonetheless, she recalled the old, worn out blanket her mother would not let go of it.
"I guess I can buy a shawl for mom. I think she'll like it." She said to Mary.
In the Mal, she looked for a long time to find the perfect shawl for her mother. She wanted something warm and light weighted since her mother felt cold even in warm weather. Today with this sudden cold was a perfect time to give her mom the shawl. She wanted to buy something which would be lively and colorful yet conservative; and she found it in Neiman Marcus. It was a cashmere shawl, camel color, big enough to cover all her mother's body yet light enough to not irritate her. It was made in Italy and she paid a big money for it. She wanted to return home after her purchase but she felt obligated to follow Mary until she finished her shopping. Around eight they ate pizza and watched the frenzied people doing their last minute shopping. Christmas was only a few days away.
When they left the Mal, the cold struck them both. They ran to their cars which were parked next to each other. Mary asked her if she wanted to go to her home and watch a movie with her and her husband.
"No, thanks Mary. I should be going home. The weather is really bad."
"Okay, how is your mother by the way? You don't talk about her much."
"What can I say? She is not getting any better. They told me that she is not eating. Sometimes they have to force feed her. I am so scared."
"That is a bad sign. I feel for you, Anna. Is there anything I can do?"
"No one can do anything for me or her. At the top of everything her ulcer is getting worse, too. Sometimes I feel she acts like a child, or she wants to die."
Rain started to fall with vengeance. Friends said good-bye. Driving home, the rain fell with such intensity that it bounced back from the windshield. They sounded like little rocks hitting her car. She realized that rain had changed to sleet. walking from Parking area to her apartment, the wind whistled so fiercely that she thought if there was a clarity, the judgement would be a hesitant one. She felt guilty for not seeing her mother that day; however she thought she would go the next morning no matter what the weather would be like.
To Be Continued
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