You Can See Me?

“You’re late.”

“Sorry, Mom. Train. Rain. My own legs. Everything runs late.”

“Still dramatizing, I see.”

“And you’re still late to scold me.”

“Sit down. The bench is wet, but you’re grown; you’ll survive.”

“I’m wearing your old scarf.”

“I can tell. It smells of mothballs and menthol.”

“I know. There’s still a streak of Tiger Balm on the edge.”

“I rubbed that on when my back betrayed me.”

“I thought you hated it.”

“I hated the pain, Molly, not the balm.”

***

“How are you, dear?”

“Like someone who pretended to be brave until a baby cried on the bus this morning and the whole façade collapsed.”

“Babies cry.”

“So do I, when I can.”

“You pretend you don’t.”

“Not today. Today I’m see-through.”

“You always were, with me.”

***

“Do you remember when you taught me to swim?”

‘How could I forget? You dragged me under three times because you refused to keep your arms in the water?”

“You said, ‘If you want the sky, you have to steal its gaze.’”

“And you decided to stare at the clouds while sinking.”

“It was July. The air smelled of watermelon and inflatable plastic.”

“And of my panic.”

“I thought strength was pretending not to drown.”

“Strength was afterward, when you finally admitted you were scared.”

***

“Fear whispered in my ear this morning and told me not to come.”

“Yet here you are.”

“You always knew how to shut that whisper up, Mom.”

“Not always. Sometimes I just sat next to you, staring at the stripes on the carpet.”

“And that helped.”

“You counted them.”

“Four dark, three light, repeat.”

“That’s how I measured time with you.”

***

“I brought you coffee, Mom.”

“I know which sugar you used.”

“The brown one, sticky, clumping into little rocks.”

“They sit at the bottom like broken promises.”

“Want some?”

“Keep it. You need warmth.”

“God, your voice is exactly the same.”

“And you still get that tiny hitch at the end of each sentence.”

“Nervous comma.”

“That’s what you called it.”

“Did you pass it on to me?”

“No, Molly. You inherited storms, not punctuation.”

***

“It rains.”

“Rain has manners. Always arrives uninvited but knows when to leave.”

“You didn’t leave with manners, Mom.”

“I left the way I was taught.”

“By whom?”

“Doctors. Calendars. The circles under my eyes.”

“I hated calendars. Every square landmine.”

“And you drew hearts instead of Xs.”

“To remind you, it wasn’t all bombs.”

***

“I never told you about that school play.”

“I know, Molly.”

“You don’t; you weren’t there.”

“I know you forgot the lines and made up your own.”

“How?”

“You told the wall in your room.”

“I didn’t know walls could talk.”

“Some do. Some keep secrets.”

“What did I say?”

“I am a tree pretending to be the wind.”

“That was stupid.”

“That was you.”

***

“Were you mad that I laughed at the funeral?”

“I was proud, Molly.”

“People whispered.”

“People always whisper when someone lives louder than their silence.”

“I wasn’t laughing at you, Mom, just at that aunt who thought you had three cats.”

“She cried for three days after you were gone.”

“You cried longer.”

“And stopped.”

“You learned well.”

***

“I never told you all the test results.”

“I never asked.”

“I was a coward.”

“You were a daughter.”

“I thought if I didn’t say the words out loud, they’d stay trapped in the paper.”

“Words are water. They find cracks.”

“They found mine in my chest.”

“And mine in silence.”

***

“I resented you for the hospital thing.”

“I know.”

“You said no more tubes.”

“I wanted a window.”

“But windows let in the cold.”

“Better cold than nothing.”

“I wanted to give you my window.”

“You did when you told me about midnight streets and men carrying bread under their arms like contraband violins.”

“And the woman with the red umbrella in full sun.”

“I know—she liked pretending to be rain. We all like pretending.”

***

“Want to hear my dream, Mom?”

“Tell me.”

“I dreamt I came home after dark, and the windows flickered in Morse code. But I didn’t know the language.”

“What did you do?”

“Sat on the steps and sang the song you used to sing when I was little.”

“Do you remember those days in the meadow?”

“That one. And the lights stopped flickering.”

“Means you read the message.”

“What was it?”

“I’m here.”

“Are you really here?”

“Yes, Molly.”

“I shouldn’t touch you, should I?”

“It won’t feel how you expect.”

“You always broke my expectations.”

“You built new ones.”

“I don’t have new ones today.”

“You do. You just keep them in your pocket.”

***

“What scares you most today, Molly?”

“Going home, opening the fridge, and finding only the light.”

“Light is good.”

“But emptiness is not.”

“Emptiness is where beginnings fit.”

“Don’t philosophize.”

“I’m not. I’m telling you this so you won’t buy seven yogurts you won’t eat.”

“Too late. Already bought them.”

“Invite someone over for pancakes.”

“Who?”

“The one who carries your books and pretends they’re not heavy.”

“He’s… complicated.”

“You always liked complicated, like spice.”

“I liked truth, even when it stung.”

“Tell him the truth.”

“The truth changes every day. You know that, Mom.”

“Today” is enough.”

“Today I miss you.”

“And I miss you.”

“But you…”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“How can I not?”

“Worry about smoothing the sheets so the cold pocket doesn’t stay at your feet.”

“You always hated that pocket.”

“It traps cold.”

“And memory.”

“Like you remember my silly stories.”

“Like Grandma thinking the mixer was a phone.”

“Answering “Hello?” and turning it on.”

“Foam on her face.”

“She said it was the softest beard she ever had.”

***

“Were the last days hard?”

“There weren’t last days. Just days, nights, then days again.”

“I saw you when you fell asleep in the waiting room.”

“I didn’t sleep; I died a little.”

“And woke up.”

“Because you came in my dream and said, ‘Get up, the window’s opening.’”

“I said that?”

“Loud and clear.”

“And you listened.”

“For once.”

***

“I want to ask something stupid.”

“Ask, Molly.”

“Are you…happy there?”

“Don’t worry. There’s no place I haven’t already been with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Every time you remembered me and laughed, you built me a room.”

“How many rooms do you have?”

“Exactly as many times as you laughed with me in mind.”

“And the tears?”

“They’re windows.”

“Good ratio.”

“Enough light, enough roofs.”

***

“Do you remember the pancakes?”

“The time you splattered half the batter on the ceiling?”

“That. You said, ‘Now we have art up there.’”

“And you drew eyes on the stain.”

“So it looked like the moon was watching us.”

“We laughed until the house smelled of burnt milk.”

“Laughter was better than the pancakes.”

“We ate them anyway.”

“I got the biggest one.”

“Of course. You were my hunger.”

“And the hair?”

“Before school?”

“Yes. When I was late and you insisted on untangling every clip.”

“Couldn’t let you go wild-haired.”

“And you sang while brushing.”

“The song about the bird who isn’t afraid of thunder.”

“I hated the brush but loved the song.”

“That’s why you brushed your hair later, singing inside your head.”

“I still do. Just no one sings out loud anymore.”

***

“Do you fear I’ll forget you?”

“No, Molly. I fear you’ll forget yourself.”

“How do I stop that?”

“Leave small traces.”

“Like?”

“A hairpin in your coat, a receipt in a book, a note to yourself on the mirror.”

“What should I write?”

“Today is for soft.”

“What’s soft?”

“Words that don’t cut.”

“Can I write ‘Today is for stubborn’?”

“Yes. Soft doesn’t exclude strong.”

“Like love doesn’t exclude anger.”

“Exactly.”

***

“I ran into that doctor yesterday.”

“The one who coughs before lying?”

“Him. I asked how you were.”

“And?”

“He said, ‘She’s fine.’”

“See? Even liars tell the truth sometimes.”

***

“I have to go. Trains don’t wait.”

“Make them remember you.”

“How?

“Board first. Take the window seat.”

“I get sick if I look back.”

“Then look ahead.”

“Into the dark tunnel?”

“Beyond it is a view you can’t describe.”

“Sounds like you, Mom.”

“Sounds like you, Molly, when you decide.”

“Will I see you again?”

“You already have.”

“No, I mean when I’m not ready?”

“You’ll see me when you’re hungriest for laughter.”

“So, soon.”

“Every time you choose.”

“I don’t always know how.”

“You do. You just pretend you don’t when the choice scares you.”

“Today I choose… apricot jam pancakes.”

“And to call the book-carrier.”

“No promises.”

“Promise yourself not to run.”

“That I can do.”

***

“Mom, can I ask something silly?”

“Always.”

“Tell me everything will be okay.”

“No.”

“I hate your honesty.”

“Then I’ll say, ‘It will be yours.’”

“Sometimes that’s worse.”

“Sometimes it’s the only thing.”

“I’ll make it worthy of you.”

“You never shamed me, Molly.”

“Not even when I...”

“Not even then.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

“Because I keep saying it?”

“Because you mean it even when silent.”

***

“I have to...”

“Go.”

“You’ll stay?”

“I’m here.”

“Where?”

“Where your heart pounds the loudest.”

“That’s here.”

“Then here

“All right. I’m standing.”

“Careful, the bench is slick.”

“I know. I’ll hold on to… never mind. I’ll hold myself.”

“Smart.”

“If it gets too heavy, I’ll come back.”

“The door’s been unlocked all along.”

“Okay. Then…”

“Go.”

“Will you still be here when I come back?”

.......