River's Redemption

River eased her way down the winding roads outside of Sedona Arizona, feeling colorful exultation course through her veins, thanks to none other than her mentor Gregory Shongola and the advanced course she took entitled Sacred Sedona Passages. Her beautiful opaque eyes shimmered as they took in the crisp autumn beauty and felt prepared to embrace the latest hurdles in her life, fully believing that she would emerge victorious if only she embraced her battles. She was ready to have an open and honest dialogue with Agnes and called upon her high self to remain an open channel. Hardly wanting to think anything shy of pure clean energy, River urged all cloudy thoughts to go gently away, and took ten deep breaths and was once again able to connect with the universe.

“To hell with everyone; they have no idea what suffering is all about.” Looking at her pale and angular face in the 1950's style bathroom mirror, Mary adjusted her nametag and glared at herself with a cross between self loathing and smug righteousness, the shamed owner of a face that was attractive yet made everyone nervous with its laser-like stares. Her saucer shaped black eyes were her most noteworthy feature but hidden within Mary's psyche was the greatest feature of all: the ability to end life; this divine gift consumed her with its logarithmic expanse every time she watched the elderly patients in her care gasp for their final miserable breaths, the power of God etched into her three fingers. Sticking her tongue out at the mirror, she chided herself for really being such a bad girl and whistled faintly as her soft padded shoes walked the quiet halls of the Golden State Convalescent hospital.

Agnes stared disgustedly at her bloated and spotted hands, feeling annoyed that River was singing in the other room. Why was she always so happy? It bothered her to no end, and as River walked into her room, carrying a basket of flowers, the morbidly obese woman bore a muted expression and barely took note of her only child. She never had lived up to the duties of Motherhood. Agnes resented the fact that River blocked her chances at being someone, making something with her life. Instead, she became nothing more than her own miserable mother and her mother before that. Her relationship with her daughter had become increasingly drained these last few years since Agnes one day awakened and realized that youth had packed its bags and left without so much as a farewell kiss. Craving a cigarette and needing to escape her daughter's perfection, she nudged past River, glaring at the girl for her intrusion.

"Well, you see Dr. Leland, it's quite impossible to describe my relationship with Mary," Sophia interrupted with exasperation. "I see what you're trying to say but I have tried everything with her, everything. I simply can't help it that I have given up. If you were in my shoes, you too would have kicked her out of the house." "Sophia," gently spoke Dr. Leland, "have you given thought to our conversation from last week, where I asked for you to write an apology letter to Mary? I believe this will be the first step toward the healing process." She could not look him in the face at that moment, shame coursing through her body. Her boys loved her, surely that was proof that she was a good Mother. Deep within the recess of her brain, she pushed away the girl's accusation about her husband Rod, which she still was unable to accept as truth. Compared to Timothy, Rod was God, a man she not only worshipped, but needed. Plus, she had been reading about girls like Mary, fabricating stories for attention as a way to create a rift within the family. The girl was dark and brooding and it was easier with her gone from their home. No, she thought, she had not written the letter; her fingers were unable to grasp precisely what she even had to be sorry about. Sophia stammered, "Dr. Leland, I would rather discuss my Father today if you don't mind. I would rather not discuss Mary today."

She felt a surge of fear coupled with thrill course through her mind as she recalled Mrs. Olefsky's struggle for breath, feeling powerful urges course through her as she watched the old woman die. The stale nursing home air was suffocating with its deafening silence, and Mary wanted nothing more than a cold drink and the comfort of her beloved cat Lucy, her sleek body wrapping herself lovingly about her ankles. Lucy understands me better than anyone else she thought as the fluorescent lights pierced her skull, pounding and etching a new pain in her head. Trying to ignore her obsessive thoughts about Mrs. Olefsky, she loaded her cart with medicine and water, the uniformity of the paper cups soothing her aching head. Popping one of Mr. Rasmussen's pain pills, she smacked her hands loudly as she vigorously opened his door, whispering a mocked good evening to the fragile weathered man. Pouting with exaggerated sophomoric intent, Mary squeezed his face with her pale big hands, feeling hatred and excitement as she witnessed an expression of pain on the old man's confused face. "What's the matter Rassy? Aren't you excited to see me?" Mary slumped in the chair beside his bed and briefly experienced compassion as she noted the discomfort etched with sadness of a forgotten man long left behind at the run down convalescent home.

I love you. I love you. I love you. River smiled softly as she tried to bring her mother's energy into the realm of her inner consciousness and tried desperately to communicate with the woman. "Mama, I love you so much. I accept and love you exactly the way you are. God bless you." The two inch scar on her left forearm stood out against her softly tanned skin as she had recently given up in trying to conceal her healed wound. Her cluttered California apartment was haphazardly stacked with books and candles and an onslaught of papers littering her space like a mail room instead of a one bedroom apartment. The cacophony of the telephone broke her reverie and her clear soft hello seemed to belong to that of a little girl instead of a 31 year old woman. "Is this River?" asked the familiar voice, “This is Darlene from Carefree, honey. I'm sorry to bother you but wanted to let you know that the check you sent us for your Mother's rent bounced." A rush of blood poured into River's cheeks as she stammered over her own tongue and apologized profusely. "Oh my goodness Darlene. I am so sorry. I didn't have a chance to deposit my check on time after returning home last night. I will send you another check immediately." "It's no problem. I also wanted to let you know that your Mother has been smoking again which as you know is strictly against our policy. If she continues to disobey our rules we may need to speak to you about finding alternative arrangements or another home for her, said Darlene with uncomfortable hesitancy. River's mouth grew dry as the Arizona desert she had just left and forced s smile. With a surprising cheeriness, she laughed it off and told Darlene that she would speak to her Mother and everything would be ok. Upon cradling the phone, River stepped over the piles of paper and proceeded to light three jasmine incense sticks. She glimpsed at a picture of little Dani O'Toole, the perfect little girl that had died last month, the day after River read her the story about a dog named Rover that was able to talk. Losing her job as the librarian at City of Angels Children's Hospital created only a dent in her finances, but certainly not in her daily activities. Upon hearing news of the budget cuts, she had offered to keep her job, however, on a volunteer basis. The daily interaction with the sick children reminded her hourly of how truly blessed she was. Looking upward, she spoke to the tree fairies, asking for them to bless her with enough finances to help her beloved Mother.

Clutching her lavender scented pillow, Sophia suppressed a cry so as not to awaken Rod, being the precarious sleeper he was. She was ruminating over the letter that Dr. Leland discussed with her; instead of mentally drafting the words to Mary, she mentally inked a thank you letter she would have wanted her own Father to write to her. Dear Sophia, I am sorry that I never loved you the way you deserved to be loved. I am sorry that I never respected you or the choices you made. Love, Father. "That's more like it, Daddy," whispered the 53 year old woman. The clock read 3:00 AM and without thinking, Sophia headed toward the living room to place a phone call to Mary. Dialing her daughter, she heard a breathy and excited sounding girl pick up on the first ring, hardly recognizing her daughter. "Mary? Is that you?"

"River, that old Darlene can shove her rules where the sun don’t shine" shouted Agnes as she defiantly lighted another cigarette and exhaled with exaggeration into the phone, furious that she had the audacity to insist she give up one of her few remaining pleasures. "If for one second you quit thinking about yourself, you would understand why people like me want some creature comforts." Who really cares if I get kicked out of this joint she thought, with its silly massages and meditation and fancy gourmet food. What she really craved was a burger, fries, and a strong scotch on the rocks. "Leave me alone River. To hell with you. You think you're so special do you? Well, let me tell you missy, you're nothing special one bit." With that, Agnes slammed the phone into its cradle, the force strong enough to knock over the picture framing her long lost youth.

Mary became increasingly excited as she watched Mrs. Roban's face freeze in that otherworldly state of shock. She sat in the visitor's chair with her legs spread boyishly as she recalled how easy it was to offer the old lady relief from her miserable life and for a moment she felt like an angel of mercy. The jarring sound of her cell phone ringing brought her out of her reverie. Assuming it was Jack, she picked up without a beat. Hearing her Mother’s voice stirred the demons and she exclaimed that if she ever called again she would kill her with her own two hands.

My Dearest Mary, Where do I begin? I have tried to tell myself over and over again that I have done everything possible to help you, but I feel as though I have failed completely. To hear your words last night was tantamount to having a sword rip through my chest. I look at Jack and Billy and they are normal boys that love me as a Mother. Why do you hate me so much? I have given you a good life and a stable and prosperous childhood. You claim to despise Rod so much (and now I am victim of your hatred as well) yet please don't forget it was Rod that saved us from that wretched life we had so long ago. We had nothing! I believe that you made up these stories about Rod because you never forgave me for leaving your Father. I had my reasons Mary and hope one day you can understand. I don't know what else to do except beg for you to reunite with your family for we love you, despite your actions and words. Love, Mother Sophia's left hand was left momentarily immobile due to the intense clutch of the pen. Blowing her nose, she folded the note and slipped it into her journal, doubting she would have the courage to send the letter. It was so tragic for her to see history repeating itself yet for clearly different reasons. She had no regrets about being estranged from her family; what did she have in common with her sister and mother anyhow? They were what she liked to coin "hillbilly people" with no class and little education. The shame she still carried about her upbringing always came through, whether it was at social functions that Rod took her to or her women's book club that met monthly. It bothered her that even at her age people still wanted to know about her childhood, education, and parents. When did it end? When was it no longer their lives and would it become her life?

"Excuse me, ma'am," said the barista boy exasperatedly for the second time, "but your card has been denied." River finally broke from her daydream and focused her attention on the frustrated cashier. "What? Really? Oh my goodness. Try this one please”, she stammered. She laughed at the horrid financial predicament that had encapsulated her life. Didn't Gregory talk about visualization? I wonder why it wasn't working she admitted within herself. She signed the receipt and sat in the cramped confines of her favorite coffee shop, bedecked with paintings covering every exposed inch of walls, its clutter comforting her. She pulled out some paper and a pen and began to create a reality chart for herself. Closing her eyes, she asked herself the three most important things to her at this moment: her Mother's safety and happiness, her former job, and new beginnings. Hmm…from what point onward would you like new beginnings River? “From conception” echoed the thought loudly in her mind. She opened her eyes and was puzzled to see the people in the shop staring at her. Tears were pouring down her ruddy cheeks onto her realty chart and she was once again making a spectacle of herself. Gathering her things hurriedly, she stumbled out of shop. The scar on her arm spoke to her at that moment, reminding her of the suffering she experienced beneath the hands of her Uncle Timothy. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. The Buddhists say that life is suffering. It is right and just that these things have happened, for that is the nature of life.

“I'd rather be dead than live in this prison”, Agnes muttered to the mirror above her nicked dresser. Fumbling in her bottom drawer, she found a crumbled pack of cigarettes and stuffed them into her sweatpants next to the snickers bar that was the closest friend she had in this place. The new age music piped through the halls and drove her crazy with its gongs and chants. Blasted hippies! She thought of her mother and the bluegrass music she would play for the girls every morning to get them out of bed. "Myyyyyy wee little girls from the grassy green hills, wich yer pretty blue eyes I done got me the chills."The memory stirred a smile as she lit her cigarette by the cafeteria dumpsters. Her Daddy was another story but he did the best he could, working as hard as he did in the fields, picking strawberries fourteen hours a day in the height of summer. Hell, she thought, the only reason I called the girl River was because my Daddy always said, I done worked me a desert of woes but god gave me a river of love. She thought that was nice and a good memory of her Father.

Mary became unhinged after the altercation with her Mother and at that moment decided to get out of town. She bolted for the deserted parking lot and her 1982 Honda Civic. It chugged and sputtered as she made numerous attempts to start the old car, cursing with a shriek as she tried a third time. After considering leaving the car behind, it cooperated with a helping hand and resurrected to life. Pressing her white sneaker to the pedal, she charged from the lot at full speed, racing for her apartment to collect her thoughts. “Where should I go; what should I do?” looped through her mind. She viciously slapped herself and looked at herself coldly in the mirror, telling herself to pull her act together. I have to call Jack; my brother is the only person I can talk to right now. The run-down apartment building was quiet in the dead of night, and the squish and squeak of Mary's sneakers sounded absurd. Fumbling to open the door with damp hands, she looked down at Lucy, who greeted her with a series of loud purrs as Mary slumped against the door, oblivious to the rancor emanating from her soiled uniform. Stroking Lucy's fur with both hands, Mary collected her thoughts. "Oh Lucy what am I going to do? Mary calmly asked her prized pet. Removing the uniform that smelled of death, Mary changed into new clothes and walked slowly to the telephone, dialing Jack. "I realize it's four in the morning Jack; I just wanted to say I’m sorry for being such a pain and that I love you.” She returned the phone to its cradle and proceeded to pack a bag, thinking that what she really wanted to do was drive her car to the honorable Dr. Rod Marquardt's house and kill him instead of all those innocent old people.

"Breaking news. This just in. A local Los Angeles nurse's assistant is wanted in the apparent murder of Harriet Roban, whose body was found early this morning at the Golden State Convalescent Home in the San Fernando Valley. Mrs. Roban, the mother of two, was 84 years old and a native of North Hollywood, CA. Suspected in the murder is Mary Marquardt, whose picture we have posted. If you have any information leading to the whereabouts of this woman, please call your local police department." Darlene watched the breaking news from the cafeteria, scratching her head as she swore she recognized the girl whose picture was posted on the news. Shaking her head, she headed toward her office. Such a shame she thought. Those hospitals like the one listed in the news were such a tragedy in today's society. Nothing like the care and love that was part of the mission statement at Carefree House. "Here she comes", thought Agnes, tossing her cigarette in the dumpster. "Agnes, if you don't mind, we need to speak please in my office" stated Darlene. Agnes wiped her big hands on her backside and grumbled that she had nothing better to do. Ambling along beside the director, she wondered why life was so shitty to her and not to her sister or her kid. Why did I get the short end of the stick? It's because they're both a bunch of suck ups that wouldn't know the truth if it hit them in the gut. Arriving at the office, Darlene offered Agnes a seat. Coughing and clearing her throat, Agnes moaned as she sat her 220 pound frame in the small seat. "Not a damned company out there makes a chair for big people," Agnes grumbled as her fat squeezed uncomfortably beneath the arm rests. "Agnes," Darlene motioned, "As you know, the culture and motto at Carefree is one of wellness and health, both of the mind and body. We have spoken to you repeatedly about cigarette smoking, which is absolutely prohibited. Unfortunately, because you refuse to adhere to our rules, I have to inform you that you have to leave the facility within four weeks time." Wearing a face of disgust, Agnes uttered for the lady to go to hell and said she was thrilled to be out. Walking back to her room, reality took over and she became frightened, realizing she had nowhere else to go. It's all River's fault. If she wouldn't have shipped me off to Arizona, I would have found a small place for myself and paid it with social security. Calling her daughter as she became more anxious, she shouted into the phone. "River, that you? Now you listen to me. I just found out I have to get out of here by month's end and I blame you for this predicament. What do you have to say for yourself, huh? Now you better fix this problem right away because you put me here in the first place. I want to be back in LA by next week and I want you to find me a nice apartment that is all my own, you got that? Is that clear? Now get your act together girl and fix this mess”. With a loud band of the phone, Agnes heaved herself into bed, boiling with anger. To hell with all of them!

Sophia was whistling cheerily as she plumped the pillows and went about her morning chores. It was such a beautiful morning and because of its beauty, she chose to toss the letter and look at today as a new beginning. Plenty of mothers didn't have good relationships with their daughters anyway. "Good morning honey," she sang to her darling husband as he emerged impeccably groomed from the master bathroom. "Sophia, darling, my better half, good morning." "I am going to be home late tonight dear. I have to visit the children's hospital over in Whittier for some charity work." She felt a lump emerge in her throat for no reason. He spent so many hours at this children's hospital doing charity work that he hardly was home anymore. The lump was invisible to him as she hugged him and applauded his efforts. It's all Mary's fault for placing suspicions on her husband, she thought to herself as she chided herself for having any type of nagging doubts. A loud knock on the door surprised both of them; answering the door together, they were shocked to see two uniformed LAPD officers standing on their doorstep. "May I help you?," Rod asked without missing a beat, "We presume this is the Marquardt residence. We wanted to confirm that you are the parents of Mary Marquardt." "Yes, yes, that is my daughter" stammered Sophia as she felt herself crumble inside. What on earth has the girl gotten herself into now?

Wearing two sweaters to keep warm, River lit twenty candles in a circle, seating herself in its center. The gas company had turned off her heat weeks ago. When did this all begin, she wondered dreamily? The conversation with her Mother brought renewed shame to her. She tried so hard but always failed. Reaching for the phone, she dialed Gregory's number but the haze infecting her thoughts interfered with her ability to dial. Placing the phone gingerly against its cradle, a wail erupted from the girl like the sound of a thousand mourning seals. Staring at her scar, she became transfixed remembering that day from so long ago. Her Uncle Timothy had promised her a trip to the mall, but instead drove her to a remote field in Barstow. Claiming to show her some old cars and that he was thinking about buying one of them for her when she turned sixteen, she had been bemused at the sight of the old hunkers. He had told her that nothing in life came for free. If she wanted a car she had to play along with what he wanted to do to her. Plenty of girls are molested. It doesn't matter. Life is suffering. Life is suffering. I must cleanse the energy and clear the space. Clear cleanse. Clear cleanse. She uttered and mumbled the words as the mental images vacillated between her uncle's monstrous actions and the razor blade she used to slice her wrist that very night. My high self is calling me forward. It is connecting with the universe and transcending all of this. Finally, the image of Agnes loomed before her mind. I should not have been born. Thinking of the Buddha, River smiled as she imagined being reincarnated into a new form, one that was surrounded by love and safety.

Robotically standing, she climbed over the circle of candles and proceeded to walk toward the bathroom, searching for a blade.Mary was blocks from the Greyhound station when she passed an old church nestled on a street that had seen better days. Regardless of its surroundings, the tranquility and light emanating from the colorful stained glass windows were enough to stop Mary in her tracks. Desperately seeking forgiveness, she slumped on the wooden steps leading into the church and stared into the gray muted skies and wished upon an invisible star. Mary was relieved and not the least bit surprised when the door opened and a priest walked toward her, his soft and holy face a comfort to the sick girl who was close to her last breath. The pills she had ingested were beginning their death march and she was now their abiding servant.

The two women looked at one another with sadness and genuine love. The funerals were held together and the girls were buried side by side. Sophia clutched her sister as the reality of losing her daughter awakened her from a lifelong slumber. Agnes couldn't speak but her wan face spoke volumes. Was it fate that the sisters had lost their daughters on the same day? Did something so monumentally horrific have to happen for them to realize they indeed had so much in common? These thoughts coursed through Sophia's mind.

Dearest Mary,
When I was a little girl, my own father did things to me that were wrong. I never did tell my Mother but I suspect he did the same thing to my sister. It was impossible for me to believe that I would pick a beast for a husband after what I endured from my own Father that it was easier for me to simply disbelieve. If your spirit can see and hear these words, I am sorry with my entirety. I have found redemption on this saddest of days. You are a good girl Mary.

Love, Mother

Sophia placed white rose pedals onto the letter and folded it into the shape of a star; it was placed on the coffin. Agnes couldn't relinquish the grip that she had on her big sister's hand, feeling profound love for her sister. “My little River. My baby girl. I didn't really hate you and I really didn't hate that you were born” shouted the large woman as she fell to the ground and shouted for the good lord to have mercy. "Sophia, we got to make this right for our girls, somehow" cried Agnes. Sophia looked up at the clouds grazing by at a quickening clip, the wind picking up with mysterious purpose found in nature. "We can begin by believing that we're alike, Agnes." Sophia sat on the grass next to her sister and held her hand. Agnes looked at her sister and smiled in what felt like a lifetime. "I love you Sophia."