Replay

Jacinda opened her eyes. For a moment everything flashed white. The sheets covering her body were white, the walls white, she was in a tiny room with no decorations or even a clock. She blinked and everything was back to normal. The burgundy drapes covering her wide windows, an old blue, wooden clock with a nightingale peeping out of the top, the shelves with colorfully bound books. She turned her head to the left, there stood her wardrobe with a dreamcatcher hanging off the handle. A typical morning.

She got up and automatically walked to the bathroom to wash up. She’d have a cup of coffee, dress and go to work. After work, she’d go into a corner store to buy some alcohol, get drunk, fall asleep and do this all over again the next day.

This has become her routine for two weeks now, ever since her only son Jared has been killed in a sordid bar fight. A bar fight. What a sad way to go. She looked into her red rimmed eyes for a moment before turning away from the mirror. The day has begun.

Jacinda arrived at work on time. She always did. As a manager in an investment firm, she had to be on time, otherwise she’d be fired really quick. Not that it mattered. Did anything matter anymore? Perhaps, not. But how is she to buy her alcohol with her income gone?

“Mrs. Right?” Jacinda turned around, but there was no one in her line of vision. Everyone had seized trying to talk to her for days now. She was too busy wallowing in self-pity to notice people when they talked to her, so after a while they gave up and left her alone.

“Mrs. Right, can you hear me?” there it was again. A weird voice, very cultured and sophisticated even. Perhaps she misheard. The voice was talking to somebody else. She turned to the window and flinched from the light. Too bright. Hangover in your fifties is not a nice thing to go through, she thought bitterly.

At six o’clock she left the office and headed towards the corner store. She was walking staring down the asphalt when a shiver passed through her. She looked up and froze. Just Ahead of her, just beyond the convenient store there he was, standing right in front of her, on the street, her son - Jared.

Jacinda lost the power of speech. She stopped dead and stared at him. Eyes open wide.

“What’s up, mom?” he waved at her and stepped closer. His longish black hair tumbling down his shoulders, his sideways bang as always covering his one eye. He was wearing the top he wore when he got stabbed. The novelty top, saying “Real Player”. She remembered it clearly, because when she saw his body on that fateful night, the blood clearly covered a part of the top , so that only “re play” was left. She memorized it, because in that moment a stupid memory popped into her mind, Jared saying, look at that shot, I’ll replay it for you. He used to watch so many sports programs and replaying the best parts for her, as if she cared. She only watched them to sit close to her son. She missed him since he left for college. But that night, as she stared down the motionless body of her son, she wished she could replay the evening over again. Act differently, not let him go. Or at least not fight with him for a stupidest of reasons.

Right. She blamed herself for his death, and the fact that they fought last time she saw him. He met her that evening from her work and walked her home. After, while she was cooking, he lay sideways on her sofa in front of the TV, propping his dirty shoes on the armrest. He stained her beige sofa, and she naturally went into a tirade over it. He accused her of caring more about the sofa than about her son, when she chastised him, and they haven’t made up before he left.

Now, after two weeks of guilt gnawing at her, she has finally lost her mind.

Jared stepped toward her. She reflectively stepped back. He stared at her for a moment in surprise, but then laughed and stepped closer once more.

“What’s wrong, ma? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to shake the hallucination. It must all be happening in her head, she drank way too much spirits, and now the God’s were punishing her. Or maybe, it was just a dream.

She opened her eyes. Jared was still there. Only closer now.

“Give me that” he took her purse, like he always did when they walked together. As if the damn purse was so heavy, when in fact it couldn’t have weighed more than two pounds. His hand brushed hers as he reached for the purse. She felt the warmth of his skin, and goosebumps covered her bare arms.

“Are you cold, ma?” He put his arm around her shoulders. His warmth and his smell have enveloped her like a blanket. He smelled like coffee and spices. He always smelled as if he just got out of Starbucks and sprayed Axe body spray immediately after. She realized that she was frozen in the middle of the street as people were rounding them in order to pass them. Jared tried to nudge her in the direction of her home. “You are scaring me, ma” he looked at her, concern shining in his gaze.

“You’re alive” she finally managed to croak out of her dry throat.

“Of course, I’m alive, what are you talking about?” He nudged her again, and this time she fell into step beside him. “You are looking at me as if I’m a ghost, ma” he said laughing. His beautiful laugh, like music to her ears.

“I thought I was” she said thoughtfully, “but you are real.” She stopped again, still in the middle of the street and started patting his body to convince herself that he indeed was real. Standing beside her, all alive. He laughed again.

“Let’s go home, ma. You look tired” he took her by the shoulders one more time, gently squeezed her upper arm and led her home.

All the way to the house she was asking him all kinds of questions to make sure this wasn’t some joke, and he really was her son. Jared seemed worried and concerned by her mood but didn’t resist the questioning too much. Then she ventured into asking him all the questions about the night he was murdered and only got a raised eyebrow for her effort. He said that he was home all evening watching a football game last night. He even texted that to her. And two weeks ago? He wasn’t at some bar, he was studying for his final exams.

Final exams. This sounded vaguely familiar. Jared was in his third year studying computer science, but his exams have passed about two weeks before his death.

Once they got home, her head started throbbing from the confusion.

“Will you make me some chilli, ma?” Jared yelled from the living room while turning on TV.

Chilli, he loved her chilli. But as far as she remembered she did not have any food in her fridge. She opened the refrigerator and saw it filled with all kinds of products. Last time she checked this morning it was out of everything. Now, it was overflowing with food. What in the hell was going on? Jacinda stepped into the living room looking wary. Just in time to witness Jared settle down sideway on the sofa and propping his feet up on her beige arm rest.

“Jared” a familiar irritation set in, before a realization came over her. This was exactly how it happened that night, two weeks ago. She was about to make him chilli, she came over to ask him something, when she witnessed this action and they had that ridiculous fight over shoes on light surfaces.

“What ma?” he peered at her from behind the sofa’s back.

“Are you going somewhere after dinner?” she asked, tearing her gaze from the spots on the sofa made by his shoes.

“Was planning to meet with some guys, why?”

“Would you mind staying with me tonight instead?” she asked, thinking over some ideas of how she might keep him inside this evening.

“Sure thing, ma” he grinned at her and turned back to the TV.

She smiled and walked back to the kitchen. She was cooking to the TV noise, feeling peaceful for the first time in fourteen days. She was jolted from her thoughts by the sound of a cell phone. Then Jared’s muffled voice. She stepped out of the kitchen to see him putting on his coat.

“Where are you going?” Jacinda was still holding a steaming pan in her hands. Jared put a staying hand, still talking on the phone. Jacinda put the pan down on a kitchen island that separated the kitchen from the living room and stepped closer to her son.

“I need to go out for a minute, my friend needs a hand. He’s close by.” Jared put his phone in his pocket and was already stepping out the door as he talked.

Jacinda froze for a long moment in terror before taking hold of her faculties. She rushed to the door in an apron, forgetting the jacket, although it was cold in the evenings. She ran calling after Jared, but didn’t catch up to him even as she ran outside. She looked around and remembered where she saw his body last time. The last time he died. She shook her head in order to clear her thoughts and rushed in that direction. She heard a scream and stopped cold. A few feet away she saw her son, lying on the cold, wet asphalt. Someone crouching over him, a couple of people running away from the scene. She came towards him as if in a dream. Same position, same tank top, replay. It looked like she got her wish after all.

The steps echoed up the white narrow corridor. Dr. Elskin made his usual rounds every night. As per usual, he entered the room number 2130 last, to check on his easiest patient. Nurse Sanders was already there. She was the one distributing pills, checking their heart rates and overall condition before Elskin’s arrival. He looked at her questioningly as he entered the small room.

On the narrow bed lay a tiny old woman, staring blankly at the wall.

“No change,” Sanders said, shaking her head.

Elskin sat down next to her. “Mrs. Right?” he asked gingerly. Then more forcefully “Mrs. Right, can you hear me?” He took out his tiny flashlight and directed it straight into the old lady’s eyes. She didn’t blink or look away. The pupils didn’t betray a response either.

“No response” confirmed Dr. Elskine.

“But pulse is still active” Nurse Sanders commented.

“An unusual case” Dr. Elskine shook his head.

“How long has she been this way?” Sanders asked.

Elskine drew a long breath and let it out before answering. “Mrs. Jacinda Right has been here since two weeks after her son’s death. That was over fifteen years ago.”

Jacinda opened her eyes. She blinked and looked around her colorful room. A typical morning.