A Mother’s Love
By: Alexander Lawrence
Tags: Motherhood, Short Story, Fiction, Love, Flash Fiction

I hate you, read the note attached to their bedroom door. Tricia sighed as she took it down, crumpled it, and threw it in the wastebasket. There it joined the four others she had found posted throughout the apartment, the most prominent of which had greeted her as she entered the front door. Each letter was printed on a separate sheet of paper, painstakingly taped together to create a banner on the opposite wall. It was almost festive if you didn’t look too closely.

Overnight shifts were always tough. Tough on her. Tough on her mom, who really was getting too old to play babysitter. And, most importantly, tough on Mason, from whom the notes almost certainly originated. Unless he had gone into their bedroom, a line yet to be crossed, this would be the last of them. After giving the kitchen and living room a final once over, Tricia went to where her mother lay on the couch, the lights from the TV softly flickering across her sleeping face, and gently shook her shoulder.

“Mom, did you put Mason to bed before falling asleep?”

No response.

“Mom?”

Her heart began to race, she shook a little harder.

“Mom?!”

Gabriela made an indistinct noise, rolled over, and went silent again. Visibly relieved, Tricia decided to leave her mother where she was. Besides, she knew the answer. There was no way those notes would have made it up if Gabriela had still been awake when Mason went to sleep.

Before checking on him, Tricia got the CPAP machine out of the bedroom she shared with her mother and tenderly fitted the mask over Gabriela’s face. They’d discussed the importance of using it before Tricia left for work the night before. Dr. Cohen had even made time last week to sit down with both of them as a personal favor to Tricia. Working at the hospital had some perks, even if you were just an orderly.

Finally, she opened the last door in the apartment and saw Mason slumbering peacefully, an almost beatific look on his face. It always struck her how all the anger seemed to simply evaporate from his being while he slept. The normal combativeness of a child verging on puberty. The resentment at her long nights spent away. Even the deep-seated smoldering she knew he’d been holding in his heart since his father left. There was no evidence of any of it, just the contentment of a dreaming child. She kissed him lightly on the cheek and quietly closed the door behind her.

Having made her rounds, Tricia reentered their room and slowly began to take off her scrubs. It had been a relatively good night. Practically, this meant that most of the smells associated with her dirty clothes were her own. Still, she stepped into the shower, letting the hot water relax her weary muscles and wash away the grime of the evening.

After a long while, she turned off the water, dried herself, and put on a nightshirt. She looked at the two twin size beds in the room, the ones that had replaced the queen she and Mason’s father used to share. This was before his hasty departure and her mother moving in. Before she was forced to go back to work in order to support all three of them. Before her reality had morphed into something she didn’t fully recognize. Laying down, she could hear the world outside begin to wake. Soon it would be time to send Mason off to school. Another little opportunity for intimacy she would miss.

As she listened to the early morning sounds, Tricia took stock of her life. Despite setbacks, she had a lot to be thankful for. A son she loved very much who, signage to the contrary, she knew loved her as well. A supportive, caring mother who had upended her own life to help during Tricia’s time of need. A job that, while difficult, she found rewarding. She counted her blessings as she did every morning, reminding herself of all the good that was left in her personal universe. Then, as she did every morning, softly cried herself to sleep.