Mother Mary woke up shortly after midnight. It was the age, she thought. All of her friends complained of the same thing; insomnia, joint pain, heartburn and bowel problems. All the evils associated with being on Heaven’s Waiting List. Well, she thought, it beats the alternative. She sat up and waited until her eyesight adjusted to the darkness of the small room. She had left the blinds raised when she went to bed and now the light of the moon filtered in through her dirt-streaked window.
She stood up and placed her feet in her slippers. She lifted her thin arms and picked up her housecoat to put it on. Only then did she turn on the light. An old habit she retained from her days of being a married woman. Never let your husband see you until you are fully dressed. Yes, it was old-fashioned, and yes, Herbert had died a good, long time ago but after 50 years of marriage, ingrained habits are hard to break.
Mother Mary shuffled down the hallway and entered the bathroom. Closing the door behind her, she made her way to the toilet. Another trait of aging; going to the bathroom every fifteen minutes to urinate. At least she was one of the lucky ones in her peer group. She woke up before she peed.
The house was quiet at this time of night, which was a bit of a miracle in itself. The rambling, six thousand square foot, fourteen bed room, five bathroom house was very rarely ever quiet. There was always someone about reading, eating, watching a little TV or just resting up. The hum of the medical equipment was always there but eventually that became part of the house as well.
After completing her business, Mother Mary decided she might as well begin her day. She always had been more of a night owl. She went back to her bedroom, entered the room and turned off the light. She had laid out her clothes the day before and found her favourite flowered dress and her pink sweater hanging over her chair. She bent over to put on her support hose and rolled them up over her scrawny legs one at a time. Satisfied that she was fully clothed, Mother Mary left her room and headed down the hall.
Whoosh, thump, whoosh, thump. The respirators were rhythmically keeping time, providing the very essence of life to the two men in the bedroom across the hall from Mary’s. She poked her head in to see if everything was as it should be. The heart regulators were working fine. Even from the hallway, Mother Mary saw the luminescence of the green numbers; 65 HBPM, 120/80 BP, 95 blood oxygen. Perfect scores all around. The men both lay very still. If it wasn’t for the machines, you wouldn’t know they were alive. Heck, if it wasn’t for the machines, they wouldn’t be alive. Mother Mary continued on her way and made the rounds once more. Fourteen rooms, including her own, and eight were full with people clinging to life. Two more rooms had people in recovery and the rest were vacant. Mr.. Brown and Mr.. Sampson had both died yesterday. Their bodies were in the basement, ready for the incinerator. Eddy would take care of that in a few hours. Eddy was a little slow, but quite the strong lad and very reliable. In the past twenty years, Eddy had never missed a day. He loved his work and he loved the people he looked after, but especially, he loved Mother Mary. Eddy was very fortunate to have employment given his less than stellar IQ. But that’s not what Mother Mary had needed him for. Thinking she could do for herself. Even at seventy-three, her mind was quick and sharp. It was the brawn she required and in that area, Eddy excelled. In return for his duties, Mother Mary paid Eddy a fair wage and provided all the food he could eat. So each faired well in the deal.
“I must remember to tell Eddy to clean the incinerator once he is finished.” Mary said to herself. She knew that soon another three rooms would be vacant and after that many burnings the incinerator had to be cleaned. If not, there would be no more disposals for a while.
Mary walked down the stairs and towards the kitchen. Opening the fridge, she pulled out the ready-made stack of sandwiches and placed them in her tote bag. Then she headed for the front door. She picked up her jacket and the sack of food and walked outside.
Mother Mary ambled down the street. Moving was a bit of an effort today and later she would need her medicine. But for now, she had more important things to do. She reached the bus station downtown and slowly walked around the building. There were always a few homeless people here.
“Hi Mother Mary”. A teenage girl waved at Mary.
“Hi dear. Do you need any food tonight?” asked Mary.
“No, I ate today already but I think that guy over there could use something.” The girl pointed towards a man lying by the dumpster. The streetlight picked up her gold painted fingernail.
“Are you sure now? I have lots,” said Mary holding up the bag.
The girl laughed and said, “Really. I’m fine.”
“Well darling, if you ever decide that this is not the way of life for you, I have room at my house. You know that.” Mother Mary looked at the girl in earnest, trying to convince her that life on the street was not the best way to live. “A young, healthy girl like you should be at home at this time of night. It’s not safe out here you know.”
“I know Mother. I’ll think about it. I promise,” she said.
“All right then. As long as you’ll think about it. And remember, there is a cash bonus for you as well. If you stay sober and don’t take drugs, you can get at least $5000.00 for getting off the street. That could start you up in a nice little business, maybe get you into a school. The money is there. And you know I have more than enough room in my house.”
The girl smiled and walked away. Mother Mary shook her head. You couldn’t help everyone. Mary walked toward the dumpster. Within ten feet of him she could smell the alcohol. It was drifting in waves all around him. He sputtered and snored in his sleep, drool slowly running down his chin. Getting closer the overwhelming stench of urine burned Mary’s nose. Gagging she turned around and decided to look elsewhere.
Everyone needed help but Mary did not have the resources to help them all so she had strict guidelines in place; no drinking and no drugs of any kind. Mary walked towards Portage and Main. There were always a few lost souls down there.
Soon Mary was outside Portage Place. The mall was closed but the exterior of the building was all lit up. Mary glanced around but the only people there were ones she did not want to associate with, the druggies and the alkies as she put it. She moved onward and kept an eye out.
By the MTS Centre she spotted a young man. He had the look of desperation about him, probably one of his first nights on the street. His clothes were relatively clean and he appeared healthy but absolutely scared out of his mind. Mary approached him cautiously. Sometimes the scared ones got angry real quick.
“Hi there. Do you need food? I have a few sandwiches here?” Mary held up the bag. The man looked up at her. He sat on the ground, leaning against the building. He was wrapped in a sleeping bag but still looked cold.
“No. I’m fine,” he said.
“Listen. You don’t have to be proud. If you’re hungry, say so. I have ham and cheese and egg salad. Which would you like?”
“No, really. I’m ok. I’m just waiting for someone.” The man turned his head away from her.
“Ok. I get it. You don’t need any help. You don’t need any food. And you certainly don’t need a warm, dry bed, a job or any money.” Mother Mary stood up. “If you change your mind, my name is Mary and I look for people like you that I can help. Just ask anyone around here. I try to come out once or twice a week depending on the weather. So I don’t know when I’ll be around again. Take care of yourself.” Mary turned and started to walk away.
“Wait. Please.” The man stood up. When the sleeping bag fell to the ground Mary noticed the slenderness of the man. He wasn’t wasting away yet, but he appeared to be on the verge. Any more weight loss and his body wouldn’t be able to support him.
He held out his hand, which was remarkable clean. His nails were trim, no dirt under them and the back of the man’s hand was free from grime of any kind. “My name is James.”
Mary took his hand. “Hello James”, said Mary. “It is a pleasure to meet you. Ham or egg?” asked Mary.
“Ham please.” Mary placed one of the foil wrapped sandwiches in his hands. James tore the wrapper off the sandwich.
“Well I guess you were hungry. How about another one?” Mary offered James another foil wrapped package.
“Don’t you need that for the others?” James asked.
“No James. I have helped one person tonight and that’s all I need.” Mary smiled at him.
James smiled back and blushed. “Well then I will have another. Thank you.”
“Think nothing of it. Now, may I ask, why are you living on the street? You seem to be a fine, healthy young man. You don’t smell like alcohol and you don’t look like you fool with drugs. Why are you here James?”
James shuffled his feet and looked away from Mary. “It’s ok James. I’ve heard a million stories. Yours can’t be any worse than the others.”
“Why do you want to know?” asked James.
“Well,” said Mary, “it’s what I do. Listen. I’ll make you a deal. You come home with me; we’ll share some tea, get to know one another and swap stories. I have a huge house over on Gilmore and right now I have four empty rooms. Others have come and gone over the years. Some stayed days, others months. Some never left at all. I guess you could say it’s kind of a boarding house. All of the boarders are men so you won’t have to worry about sharing a bathroom with women. I have a few men your age. They help out with the chores and I keep them fed. That’s the arrangement.”
“You know, I think I have heard of you. You’re Mother Mary aren’t you? Some guys down by the bridge told me that you help the homeless all the time.” James picked up his sleeping bag and wrapped it up. He tied some twine around it and threw it over his shoulder.
“Yes that’s me dear. That’s what I do” Mary laughed and started walking, James following alongside.
“So why did you not help the guys by the bridge?” James asked. “ I mean if you help the homeless, why not them?”
“Well James, I can only do so much. I have limited resources and limited space at my house so I help the people that I think will use it to their best advantage. So you can’t be doing drugs of any sort and you can’t drink. Unfortunately that lets a lot of people go.”
“Ok that makes sense.” James hung his head and put his hands in his pockets. “So are you going to tell me your story?” asked James.
“When we get home James. It’s just a short ways ahead and then I’ll tell you all you need to know.”
Mary and James strolled along Gilmore Avenue, taking their time, talking like two old friends out for a stroll. In the still of the night James and Mary’s voices carried all down the street, his deep and low, hers soft and high.
“Here we are.” Mary started up the grand front staircase.
“Wow you weren’t kidding when you said your house was huge,” said James. He was in awe as he took in the white plaster columns along the front verandah. On the far side of the porch was a white wicker couch and chair with colorful blue and orange cushions. There was a square wicker and glass table, a fake palm tree and vases filled with sand and seashells. Above, there hung a ceiling fan. On the other side of the porch there was a table with an aquarium. In place of fish, there was more sand, seashells and candles. On the walls hung fishing nets and in the nets were starfish. Quite the nautical theme.
The front door was huge; dark mahogany wood inlaid with stained glass. Double doors stood six feet wide. Mary opened them both as if she were sweeping open a cape. Or teeth, James thought.
James hesitated on the threshold. The house was warm, inviting, but inside his head, something was whispering a warning. It had been weeks since James saw the inside of a house, let alone slept in a bed. He was tired, hungry, and desperate. Maybe this was a good thing.
”Come along James. Come into the kitchen and I will make you some tea.” Mary walked through an archway to her left. James followed behind.
“James, there is a bedroom for you on the second floor.” Mary pulled out two cups from the cupboard and placed them on the counter by the stove. “Everything that you will need is in the room. Fresh towels, soap, shampoo. Anything else you need, please ask me.” Mary filled the kettle with water and put it on the stove. Turning the gas flame high, the flames licked up the scorched sides of the kettle.
Mary reached into another cupboard and pulled out a container of cookies. “Tomorrow, sleep as late as you want and when you wake up I will give you a tour of the house. She is a grand old lady,” Mary laughed. Mary filled a plate with shortbread, ginger snaps and cinnamon cookies and placed them in front of James.
“Please eat. Don’t be shy.” James chose a ginger snap and took a bite. The cookie was chewy and warm, with a hint of ginger and brown sugar.
“Now a few rules James. No alcohol, no drugs, and after tomorrow you will be given a list of chores. Nothing major, just some raking, gardening, fixing the odd thing. All the things I can no longer do.”
James swallowed the cookie and wiped the crumbs from his lip. Behind him the whistle sounded. Mary got up and turned the stove off. She put teabags in both cups and poured the steaming water over top.
“Here James. Drink up and go to bed. Tomorrow you can have a shower and then we can discuss what you can provide for me.” Mary smiled at him.
James smiled back. “I don’t know what I can do to repay you.”
“Don’t you worry about that. From now on, James, your life will be very simple. And you will bring me happiness just by being here. Now finish your tea dear and then off to bed with you.” Mary drank her tea in three swallows. James, not wanting to be impolite, followed suit.
“Follow me James.” Mother Mary got up from her chair and motioned towards the doorway. James got up and fell in step behind her. The stairway was enormous. It was also made out of dark mahogany and gleamed with a mirror finish. James felt guilty about wearing his shoes. Dammit, I should have taken them off, he thought. At the top of the stairs Mary turned left and went up another flight of mahogany stairs. These were laid with Persian carpet. Not the slightest sound could be heard as James and Mary climbed the stairs. At the top, Mary turned right and pushed open an oak door. James looked in. At first glance he noticed the frilly pillows and more wicker chairs. Must have been quite the sale on wicker. There was a wardrobe in the corner, a writing desk by the window and an ensuite off to the side. The ceiling boasted another huge fan. This one gold and ivory. The bed looked like he could sink into it forever. It was a massive, ornate oak bed, but abnormally high. Man, I’ll need a ladder to get into it thought James.
“You must be tired James. Just leave your pack on the floor. In the wardrobe you will find pajamas and slippers. It’s late. Just change and go to bed. I will wait for you. Just call for me and then I can pick up your clothes and have Eddy wash and dry them for you”.
“Oh you don’t need to do that’” James said. The last thing he wanted was a total stranger, especially a grandmother, carrying his filthy clothes.
“I insist James.” With that Mother Mary closed the door.
Standing in the hallway, Mary heard the rustling sounds of James undressing. The wardrobe door opened with a squeal and then closed. She heard him walk across the floor and turn the blankets.
“All right. You can come in now,” called James. Mary opened the door. James lay in bed, eyes half shut, muscles relaxing. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me but I can’t seem to keep my eyes open.” James slurred his words and a thin line of saliva ran down the right side of his mouth.
“Well you see James, I promised you my story. My husband only left me a small pension. Nothing that I could live on. So I thought about it and then it hit me.” James’s eyes fluttered. His heart slowed down and his entire body felt like he was under water.
“Do you know that only a small percentage of people donate their organs? And a lot of people need good, healthy parts. People who can make a difference in this world or at least pay for another chance at life. Then there are people such as yourself who throw their lives away. Running away from family, friends, responsibilities. Do you understand how selfish that is? Here you are a strong, healthy young man wasting away on a street corner when there are people dying who want to stay here on earth.
It really became quite clear to me what I must do”
James was horrified. He heard Mary speaking but he was completely paralyzed. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. “By now the tetrodotoxin will have taken some affect. The ginger really hides the taste. I suspect you can hear me, but you won’t be able to move. You should still be able to see, hear and feel everything but don’t fret. We will anesthitize you before the harvest.”
James heard the squeaking of wheels and saw the door swish open. A large man was pushing a gurney and positioned it along side the bed. Now James realized why the bed was so high.
“By tomorrow you will be minus one lung and one kidney, but you will still be alive. A few days later we will remove the corneas. And then shortly thereafter, if need be, the rest of the harvest. Just think of all the people you will be helping James. And be very glad for your simple life.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR Malina Roos lives in Winnipeg, Manitoba with her husband and her three dogs. She has three children and two grandchildren. During the day, she works as a legal assistant to various police and social service agencies and in the evenings she battles the writing addiction and insomnia.
Return to Winter 2006 Table of Contents © 2006 SPINETINGLER Magazine - All rights reserved |
