One Reques

A story of facing your Fate head on and not worrying about i oo much.

I want to start off by clarifying something: I’m not scared.
I had to because that’s all everyone ever asked me, or told me. “Are you afraid?” “Everything’s going to be alright.” “No need to be frightened ma’am. We’ll help you.” They would keep playing like my record player had broken, continuously playing, continuously annoying. I’m old. I lived a good life, I’m not scared. I’m tired. That’s another broken record phrase. “I’m tired, that’s all.” Over and over I would reply.
There wasn’t anything particularly wrong with me other than I’m old! I’ve lived a long life. I’m 84 for Christ’s sake. Now, there are older, but I’m still satisfied with my age. I’m young enough to be able to wipe myself, but old enough to have lived a full life. But right at this moment, I’m not living. I’m in a hospital room, surrounded by the sounds of Death and Dying. I have wires in poking out of everywhere, and tubing in places there really shouldn’t be. And so, I’m not scared. I’m pissed and annoyed. I’m an old woman, not some experiment monkey. And what’s worse than feeling like Operation? Those damn nurses clucking at me “sympathetically” each time they come to check on me. Now, I’m not a mean woman. I always found myself very calm and sweet. I was the loved Grandma of us two. But each time those nurses or doctor cluck, I want to pull them over my knee and spank them with these tubing.
And I told them that.
“Stop that clucking. You’re not a chicken and if I hear it again, I’ll find enough strength in these old muscles to given you a proper punishment.” I had said, with little strength, but a convincing countenance.
“Yes ma’am. Sorry ma’am.”
“Don’t call me ma’am. I’m not that old.” I gruffed. The young nurse’s eyes sparkled and she hid a smirk. Well, tried to hide.
“Sorry Miss.”
“Good, go.” And she left. Like I said, I’m not normally that rude or mean. But this hospital. It’s so stuffy and plain and aggravating. If I’m going to die, this isn’t where it’s going to be. I’m going to get better. I’m going to go home, walk to the backyard, and die happily wrapped in a sweater on a picnic blanket on the hill looking over the valley.
“I’m not going to wait.” I said out loud suddenly.
“What’s that Mom?” My son Will asked.
“I’m leaving William.” He smirked at me. I’m not cute d****t.
“Mom, you can’t leave. The doctor has to give you the clean-”
“Whatever. Get these damn things out of me.” I began pulling the tubing and wires off, the machines began beeping and whining.
“Mom, stop!” Nurses and doctors rushed in.
“Mrs. Night, you can’t leave yet. You’re still sick.”
“Oh for the last time, I’m not sick. I’m old. I’m dying. I’m okay with that. What I’m not okay with is staying is this dungeon and dying in this place. I’m going home. Keep me here and it’s kidnapping!”
“Mom, it’s not kidnapping.”
“Quiet William. Never correct your mother.”
“Sorry Mom.” My eyes turned to the doctor, who’s nurses were glancing at him uncomfortably. Morally, I’m sure they were conflicted. But I personally should care less what they’re feeling. I pulled the tube from my nose.
“William, get my coat. I’m not leaving in just this dress.”
“Mrs. Night, I haven’t discharged you.”
“Then you better get to it Dr. Hursh, I’m not getting any younger.” Doctor Hursh sighed. Now who’s the old one. He looks older than me.
“Mr. Night, take your mother home, make sure she gets plenty of rest. If there are any issues, bring her back in the morning.”
“Yes sir. Come on Mom.”
“Gale, please don’t overdo it.”
“I never do Oliver.” William led me to a wheelchair. I would have refused, but I’d forgotten how difficult it was to walk without my cane. Hell, it was difficult to walk with my cane!
“I’m going to get the car, just wait a bit.”
“Just hurry. There’s something I want to do.”
“Got it Mom.” I watched as my silly boy rushed off to fetch his car. He was always so adorable, even as a boy. He’s also the most well behaved of my four, and he’s in the middle too. Surprise surprise. Oh my little babies. I’m glad William was here though. Elizabeth would never have let me leave, so strong and by the book, like I was when I was younger. George, well I should face it, he’d be too afraid to set foot in a hospital. But if he did muster the courage, I bet he wouldn’t let me leave. He’d be too afraid that I’d die. Genevieve, that one is a free spirit. But when it comes to her family, I raised her all too well. She’d never help me leave. She would go off that it was my job as a mother to get better for my children. Genevieve, my youngest. It’ll be the toughest on her. But she’ll get through it, she’ll probably even get some artwork out of that heartbreak.
“Mom!” William called, he parked and helped me get into his car. I think it’s a Prius, but I was never that good at cars. Charlie was. Oh I miss Charlie. I’ll finally get to see him again.
“It’s funny William.”
“What is Mom?”
“It’s funny how much of the past you remember when you know there isn’t a future.”
“Mom, don’t talk like that. Please.”
“Oh William, don’t get soft honey. Mothers aren’t meant to live forever.”
“I know…”
“Sweetie, don’t cry and drive. I want to die at home, not in a crash.” He chuckled grimly.
“Yes Mom.” I placed my hand on his shoulder. “Mom?”
“Yes dear?”
“Why Fitzwilliam? Why not just William?” I sighed. He always asked that. Why I had named him Fitzwilliam. My children always asked why they were named as they were, mostly because I never said. So I smiled.
“I guess I should tell you. I named each of you after a story book character I wanted you to grow up to be like. Although, it never really did work out that way. That is, except Eliza.”
“Who?”
“Fitzwilliam…Darcy. From Pride and Prejudice. Your sister is named after Elizabeth Bennett. I had hoped you both would become strong and find love in an unusual place. Your sister was named after Ginny Weasley, and your brother after George Weasley, so they always remember laughter and fun, but have a strong duty to their family. I guess you can say Genevieve turned out like her character.” So it’s just my boys who went off course.
“Why just two books?”
“They’re my favorites.” I said, and we were silent the rest of the way. I wonder if he still liked his name. All of my children had read Pride and Prejudice, as well as Harry Potter. But would they appreciate the naming? I don’t know. And oddly, I no longer care. We pulled up to my home, and Will helped me from the car. He helped me to the house door, where my trusty cane lay loyally by the door. I grabbed it, holding the familiar soft mahogany in my hand. Charlie had made this for me. I could feel where is knife had so carefully carved into the wood.
“Do you need any help Mom?” I smiled at him, patting his cheek softly.
“Why don’t you fetch us some food? I’m going to sit on the hill for a bit.”
“By yourself? Mom isn’t that-”
“Dear, something nice and light. Or maybe some chowder? It’s been a while since I’ve had clam chowder.”
“Alright Mom. Be safe.” I smiled at him, as he walked back to his car. I walked into my house, my home. Oh how I’ve missed this place. And oh how much nicer it looks after spending a week in that stuffy hospital. I changed into a floral blue dress, reaching down to my ankles. it feels nice to be out of those hospital garments. Now where’s that blanket? I found it in the closet by my living room. I knitted it 12 years ago, Christmas. I remember because of the pattern. William was 15 when I had made it, and he had knocked some of my red wine onto the blanket, staining part of it. I had been angry at first, but Charlie thought it had added character. Looking back, I agree.
I almost felt bad, what if I fell asleep before William came back? I’ll never taste that chowder… And poor William. But he’s a big boy. He’ll be able to handle it. I sighed to myself and began my climb up the hill, digging my cane into the ground and forcing myself up.
The exercise, the climbing, it’s a lot harder than I remembered it. But the view, so breathtaking and oh so worth it. The hill overlooked a valley, and it being spring, the flowers were in bloom. The valley’s rolling brush swayed back and forth in the light wind, rustling at my short gray hair. Charlie and I had fallen in love with this house because of this view. We had our first picnic in the house in this very spot. I wrapped the blanket around me, and sat down on the ground, the grass staining my dress. But what do I care? I smiled morbidly. This grass, it’ll be my grave. And I’m okay with it. I’ve gotten my one request, the one thing I wanted left. I’m going to be allowed to die at my own pace and at my own choosing and at my choice of a place.
Here and now.
So peaceful. A nightingale flew by. How strange that it would be here? I’ve never seen a wild nightingale in America. It flew around me, past my head, fleeting in my sight. And each time it left, it came right back. It became almost still, flying in my view, mesmerizing me. Such a pretty bird. I whistled to it, and it sang a lullaby back.
So sleepy.
So very very sleepy.
The wind blew at my hair. The grass tickled my exposed skin. The nightingale sang its song.
I want to end this by clarifying something: I’m not afraid.

Author's Note

Ignore grammar problems, a lo are intentionally in there.
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