Falling Roses: In the Dark

She stopped in front of my old bedroom and turned the knob to let me inside. “This room belonged to my son Robbie,” she said. “It won’t freak you out or anything to sleep in here tonight, will it?” she asked. I shook my head. “No, not at all, Gabrielle.” My bedroom, something familiar. Hopefully, I’ll be able to sleep like the dead.

We entered, and I sat on the bed, while she fiddled with the lighting by tapping the touch lamp. It was yet another room that hadn’t been disturbed since my death. All the same pictures remained on the walls, my other football was still on top of the dresser, and my old clothes had been laundered and folded. I felt the warm comforter with my hands as my mom took a seat beside me.

“I think you wear the same size as my son did,” she said.

I gazed at my suede hiking boots in the corner.

She looked too and added, “He loved those boots. You can wear whatever you like. I’m sure Robbie wouldn’t mind. Just don’t use his toothbrush,” she said with a smile.

“You still have his toothbrush?” I turned my head to see if I could see the counter of the sink inside my darkened bathroom.

“I loved my son very much,” she told me. “He was a wonderful young man. What you did tonight, rescuing that infant, reminds me of him. Robbie would have done the same. I was in the hospital once, and he and Jackie broke in and kidnapped me,” she said with a giggle.

I smirked, remembering when we had done so. That was all Jackie’s doing though; I was totally against going into a psychiatric hospital and kidnapping Mom, especially since we didn’t even know if she was our mother. John Rolando, the cousin, helped us that night, and he and Jackie had planned the abduction before letting me in on their secret. I found out later that his parents were involved too. I knew all along that John didn’t have the smarts to be able to take on the abduction alone. Now, a few years later, he had learned how to abduct babies though with Maureen Malone.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Absolutely,” I said.

“Now, this might sound strange,” she began.

“Reality is strange,” I replied softly.

She nodded. “You are around the same height as my son, only an inch taller. You seem to be a bit more muscular too.” She squeezed my bicep gently and smiled. “Your eyes have this growing sadness in them, something I can’t place just yet.”

“Long story,” I said.

“I assumed so,” she replied. “I was just wondering if I could, uh, if you wouldn’t mind if I… Could I give you a hug?” she asked.

“Definitely, Gabrielle,” I said.

While sitting on the bed, she had turned and placed her arms around me and lightly squeezed.

I placed my arms around her as well. I knew my mother’s hugs, and it felt so wonderful to embrace her again. I felt so safe in her arms, and I knew she loved me. I’m home, and my mother truly loves me. I heard her sniffling in my hair, and although I loved it, I rolled my eyes; she’d always loved to breathe in my scent, no matter how I smelled. I was her son, after all. I wondered if she had recognized me or if she’d just think herself insane for knowing I was hers. Either way, I would have been happy to let her hold me all night like that if she wanted to. I could have fallen forever asleep in my mother’s arms, whether she knew who I was or not.

“Can you do me a favor?” she asked, pulling away.

“Wash my hair?” I asked with a smile.

“Your hair smells fine,” she said with a giggle. “If it makes you feel uncomfortable, you don’t have to,” she said, “but if you want, you can call me ‘Mom.’ I wouldn’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t mind either. In fact, I’d like that very much so,” I said.

She laughed. “It’s too hard for you to say ‘Gabrielle’ in that fake Brooklyn accent of yours anyway.”

I laughed with her. “You’re absolutely right,” I said.