Chapter 3: Chapter 3

“What are you doing next week?” You ask as you sip the mango smoothie.

“I have to go to a funeral on Monday.”

“Oh I’m sorry.” You try and put on the most empathic face for your friend. You know how to do it, the slight downturn of the mouth, a droop in the eyes. A sign of sadness at their loss but not too much.

“It’s okay, I’d only meet him a few times, he’s Mark’s mum’s cousin. He had a heart attack, but he’d had problems before.”

You nod. “I hope everyone’s doing okay.”

“I think so, I don’t think anyone was that close to him. Imagine that though, one minute they’re there, and the next minute nothing more.”

“Your turn.”

Your dad turned to your mum patiently. She’s sitting across from you, looking at the board while you also study it intently. You just needed to get to the blue token first and then you should be able to get enough points to have a chance at winning. The red was already gone, and you didn’t want to end up with the green.

“Your go Mum.” She was always taking too long, trying to think of six different ways to have her turn after she’s already tried three of them. Two turns later she’d shake her head and say she should’ve done it differently.

She looks up from her cards and puts her elbows on the table. You don’t pay much attention, you’re too busy trying to figure out what you need to reach the token.

“I don’t feel too well. I think…-”

You can’t tell if it’s a lull or a stop; a fading of words from her lips or a halt in her speech.

Across the table she barely moves, her eyes open, but you can tell something is wrong.

“Mum?”

There’s no response as her body slumps slightly.

“Mum!”

“Let’s put her on the floor.”

You race around and pull the chair back as your dad lays her down, her arm falling across her chest as if placed there waiting for a prince to drag her from her sleep. You knew she needs more than a kiss right now.

“Call the ambulance.”

You yank the phone from it’s holder and dial the short number you’ve never dialled before, rushing it back to your dad while you stare down at the unmoving figure on the floor. There’s not a twitch, her glassy eyes staring up towards the roof.

You don’t want to look at her like this, but you’re afraid that if you don’t you’ll miss the last moments of her life before it all slips away. Yet you wonder, as you looked down at the blank eyes that stared off into another world, if you’ve already missed it.