Chapter 4 Just like that, Poof!

The burial took place on the 6th of December 2009 I still remember that day and how most relatives couldn't make it to the funeral, because of their flights being delayed, if it weren't for neighbors that filled the empty spots, we don't know what we would remember right now. Still, my brain would highlight empty seats that were sat by those who sympathize as friends and not the ones who were supposed to, and the number still hurts, but I could not show.

Mom never spoke for three weeks, ever since that day, she would stare at the walls for hours in her room glaring at one spot without eyeing anything near her, even if it breathes, she wouldn't blink and never noticed. For some time, I thought she would be sent into a mental institution when I overheard Aunty Rachel talked with Susan, my sister's late father, the day after the funeral that they don't see any hopes of her recovering. I only had to eat what neighbors bought over the house when sending their condolences. She no longer cooked, dressed me, nor washed my clothes.

I would just sit around touching my toys and never left the house watching my mother here and there. Around those days somebody knocked at the very morning and requested on seeing my mother, I remember I looked up at him like a cooperate giant who was a well-built man, wearing a suit with a suitcase he had carried along, I've never seen a human so serious in my life. I then welcomed him in, pointed at the lounge where my mother was at, with no questions he headed there, and left me standing by the doorstep. Quickly I ran to look at what he was doing and witnessed him talk to my mother, but she never responded.

Eventually, he offered her the pile of papers that were neatly stapled together, but still, she never replied. That man had to come three times trying to talk to her, nothing would barge, nothing made sense to her, but on the fourth day, she finally lifted a pen and signed all the papers with nothing to be said to the man.

The prolonging continued as she kept watching walls and dining alone lifelessly, it was starting to affect my ability of understanding, and yet I was no stranger to it. Until she suddenly stood up confidently and decided to pack the next day, told me to take a bath, and disappeared in my room. By the time I got back, she had already packed my bags, and we soon left the house. We drove off without saying goodbye to our neighbors, who had supported us, even those who knew us well enough. I am still pondering about her yearning to wanting to touch the vase next to the door by the lounge but never did and immediately closed the door.

All this way, she was silent, kept her knowledge unto herself without caring to share, why did we had so many bags, and drove this long way. I wanted to know. I stood beside her observing while she spoke with the consultant lady, rapidly opened her red bags and pulled out these two small books that looked like identity books, and handed them over to her. They shortly spoke, and she accepted tickets, gripped her bags, and directed us to wait in an area with the silver seats.

The plane flew over the ocean; I am at the window seat, looking as we passed by. And when her behavior finally subsided, she kneeled at the airport, broke the ice with a bright smile and kindly told me, we are in New York, my head stalled thinking of where we are. Never minded questioning me why we left our only home in South-Africa, Stellenbosch.

Why leave her company, or is it just a getaway holiday to refresh her mind and to stop her from watching walls. But it was not that, and answers I asked after, they seemed like there were starring between my face and I already knew. She tenderly took off my sweater since it was warm and sunny, reckoned a bad rash would occur under my skin, and gave me another sincere smile as she held my hand, and we walked into the passage leaving the building. A yellow cab showed up, and the driver greeted us politely, taking our bags, putting them in the trunk. We left the airport, and the drive took us about forty-five minutes from then we arrived in Brooklyn.

I am reading the board signs on the road as we passed by shortly. The more we left the airport, the less it was sunny; I began enjoying the ride seeing pale green leaves out of the taxi's window. Watching numerous trees lining up aside from the road, like how much it gave me the serenity of mind. She told the driver to stop, reckoned she and her son would not mind stretching their legs to see the view of the place.

"You would not mind, would you, sweetie?" She asked with a groomed smile, gazing at me. I didn't even have a chance to say a word. She immediately paid for the lift and opened the door taking her bags along with mine. I only had a small bag pack on my shoulders that will fit a four-year-old like me.

"I'm sure this route will take you where you are heading to, it's not too far." The driver declared.

She nodded with a pleasant face and added:

"It is not too far at all, thanks for your assistance."

"My pleasure." The driver said, closing the trunk, went back to his taxi and drove off.

I'm watching these beautiful tall buildings in Cobble Hill Heights. We are walking in the park, looking around she then pointed with her index finger as we came closer, told me that this is our new home and held my hand dearly as my footsteps slowly dragged. I was gazing at this big white lavish house.

Only in my mind would I have dreamed about it, or see it in a magazine, but the size of it was creepy for two people. I glared at the four windows upstairs and two at the bottom. As soon as we were inside, she freely tumbled in, touching every furniture that was installed for us, while I just stood between the door, never even cared to check upstairs. Houses here are just too over the top. I spoke in my thoughts. She told me I should, and I could pick any room that I might like up there.

"So, what does my boy think, Mom did well, didn't she?" She said, smiling broadly.

"You don't want to go upstairs? We have an upstairs here, sweetie, you see?"

She tenderly placed her hand on a vintage purple sofa.

I gripped my bag on my shoulders and never said anything. Mother never even cared to pry gazing at me standing still and simply sighed with another one of her smiles and said:

"I know you like it. I like it too." I'm looking at her, and I'm suddenly seeing her twice in an image, I tightened the arm of my bag and the room punctually blurred. I'm confused why am I so lightheaded, I touched my throat realizing it hydrated, eyes went black, my heat bolted in drums. I don't know if I just got blind. "Mom" I helplessly uttered, and suddenly I collapsed.

That same day I woke up in the hospital bed with a doctor clouding my face, mom next to the other side, and she was told I was suffering from starvation, never eaten for days, and no sign of me taking any water from today. She looked startled and claimed out of pretense she must have been to busy to notice I have stopped eating. We went back to the house, and she began cooking, had me seated on our new dining table, sparkling in brown wood with a white cloth on top of it, came back with six plates, and placed them on a table in each chair.

I watched her confidently serve them. Mother was even humming a song like she always does when she was in a good mood and when they were all placed, and she just stood there quietly, staring at them and embarrassingly looked at me, quickly gathered them back to her hands. We then ate dinner, only the two of us at the table, nothing spoken, nothing said.

I thought about the construction job she left in South Africa with a Boutique she was excited opening a few months ago, I thought of little things she used to do, and people we knew but all that was no longer in the picture. In few weeks after we have settled in our new home she became an alcoholic, at first she would frequently hide it, but eventually could no longer anymore, but still always believed she will always make me smile.

"Mommy will always make you smile." She would say. "She will always make you smile, Tom." Waving a bottle of wine in her hand. That's how my two years were like every day.