Episode 2: Hydrocortisone
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Episode 2: Hydrocortisone
Carla's Coldstream Continues
Photos used on ColbyStream are from Unsplash and Midjourney. Photos on Unsplash by Maxim Hopman and Andrii Leanov
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Hydrocortisone
The bite itched and burned. I scratched absentmindedly at it while I clicked through the pages of plum-colored cocktail dresses. Purple was Mom’s favorite color, and I needed the dress for next week. Aggie and I would be standing out in the sea of black, but Mom would be happy. That’s what mattered most.
“Quit picking at it. You’ll just make it worse,” Mom barked from the living room.
My hand leapt off my wrist where several bites glowed red. Not for the first time, my cheeks warmed as I found myself still seeking my mother’s approval, despite my forty-two years.
And Mom had died.
I looked up from my screen. Mom had passed a week earlier. Heart disease. No big shock with her being over eighty.
Now, she sat in the brown armchair, holding herself up by a cane. I stared, studying the impossibility. Looking at her was like looking into a magical mirror. My own deep-set eyes and upturned nose stared back at me — just decades older. I’d never considered myself and my mother to be conventionally pretty. That was my sister, Agatha. Aggie got our father’s plump lips and silky dark hair. Mom and I had to tame mousey frizz, but our Picasso-esk features were alluring.
Daniel used to tell me that he could stare at me for the rest of time and still not know all the secrets of my face. We use to lay side by side in bed, whisper late into the night about our love, our life, our future. But then he found the face of his personal trainer more alluring, and I’m now asleep by eight most nights.
“You should wash your sheets,” Mom raised her eyebrow. “Must have a spider in there that bit you last night.”
“I’ll do it later, Mom.” I wasn’t frightened by my dead mother. She could have been a ghost, could also be my mind finally snapping. I thought the walls of my apartment might close in on me, but instead I got my mother’s apparition. I returned to the dress-filled screen. She couldn’t really be sitting in my living room. She was being prepped for the funeral across town.
My phone buzzed. Aggie’s smiling picture lit-up phone screen. I accepted the call and nestled the phone between my shoulder and ear.
“Hey. What’s up?”
I clicked to the next page and sighed. None of the dresses were right.
“Moira!” Aggie shouted. My younger sister had yet to master the speaker phone option in her car. I held the phone away from my ear. “Thank God you answered! Cassie was sick at school, so I have to pick her up. I was supposed to go to the store for picture frames and half a dozen peace lilies.”
“Peace lilies?”
“It was Justin’s idea. You give them to the guests.”
“Like party favors?” I wrinkled my nose and glanced at Mom. She just shrugged.
“Technically, yes.” Aggie sighed. “Anyway, can you go?”
I sucked air between my teeth and pressed my lips against them. A trip to the store. The very thought twisted knots in my stomach. The dresses on my laptop screen nagged. A pile of bills waited for me beside the computer. Laundry piled on the couch beside Mom. Could I even leave Mom alone? I didn’t know what was polite when the dead visit. What if she left? Where would she go?
“I don’t know…”
The hesitation filled my eyes with tears. Mom’s lips turned down in sympathy, and I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. I was weak. The apartment, the dress, Mom. All excuses, but I couldn’t face that aisle. The walls of my apartment shrouded me in comfort. Mom waited for me in the living room. I needed my mother, needed her to protect me like she did when I was a child.
“Go.” Mom’s voice was soft and encouraging. She watched me with a knowing look in her eye. Then she waved her cane at me, gesturing to my arm. “You can pick up some hydrocortisone for that bite while you’re out. You keep scratching at that thing and it’ll scar.”
I dropped my gaze to my wrist. I hadn’t noticed that I’d been picking at the red bumps again.
“Moira? Please? I need this favor,” Aggie begged in her ear.
She didn’t really need a favor, though. Justin worked from home. Aggie could leave Cassie with him and run her errands, but she asked me to do it instead. I couldn’t be upset by the weak lie. Aggie only wanted to help. I sighed. “Sure. Mom suggested I pick up some medicine for these bug bites I have, anyway.”
“Mom?”
“Mhm.” I nodded, even though Aggie couldn’t see me. The catch in her voice tightened my chest with panic. Mom had only died a week ago. I shared her visit out of habit, but Aggie didn’t want to hear that our dead mother had come to visit. What if she thought I was crazy? What if she believed me and invited Mom to her house?
“When did you talk to Mom?” Aggie asked.
“She came to visit, but she’s gone now.” I exhaled slowly, proud of my own lie. Mom tsked from her seat in the living room.
Aggie sighed. “Moira…”
“You should get going.” Mom spoke at the same time. “You can beat those schmucks who wait until the last minute to buy their dinners after work.”
I stood up and walked across the apartment into the living room. The rug by the front door had bunched from when I’d last opened it. I straightened it out as I responded to Aggie, “I’ll call you if I have any questions at the store, okay?”
“Sure. I’m going to call you after I get Cassie to bed tonight.”
I forced myself to smile. “Sounds great. Love you.”
“Love you more.”
A wave of nausea hit me as I rolled to a stop. I ran my hands along the outer edge of the steering wheel and watched a couple cross the street; the man pushed a baby stroller in front of them. Their mouths moved; they laughed and smiled. I pressed my foot harder on the brake, afraid I might need to fling the door open to hurl.
I checked the dashboard. The tank was just under halfway full. I wondered if I should stop at the gas station before going to the store. Didn’t want to be stranded with an empty tank.
I ran through the grocery list in my head. Picture frames, peace lilies, and hydrocortisone. Anything else? I visualized my kitchen, the cabinets under the sink filled with cleaning supplies, my fridge, empty, but I had no plans to fill it. I struggled to recall how many more rolls of toilet paper were stored under the sink in the bathroom. I should pick up more, just in case. I’d never hear the end of it if Mom couldn’t use the bathroom because I ran out of toilet paper. Did ghosts use the bathroom? Did hallucinations?
The couple crossed, and I lifted my foot off the brake. I approached a car on the next block and slowed. Just a glance could break my focus and I would smack into the bumper. Stomach acid burned in my throat. Just a few more blocks to the store.
“Shit.” I flipped on my blinker and double checked I had the space to change lanes. I’d almost forgotten about the gas.
There was a time that driving didn’t make me anxious. I’d never been a confident driver, so Daniel did most of the driving for us. I supposed it was just a lack of practice. Daniel left and I still didn’t drive much.
I jabbed my foot on the brake as a car moved into my lane. No signal. No warning. A whimpered passed my lips. My knuckles whitened around the steering wheel, and I jerked the car to the left.
The car moved in front of me. The sun shined above. The radio DJ announced a commercial break, but I only heard the sound of my blood pounding in my ears. My eyes brimmed with tears.
I should just turn around. Aggie could pick up the plants tomorrow. She’d find the time. She wouldn’t mind.
But I allowed the car to roll forward. I could see the gas station up ahead. I could at least fill the tank so the trip wouldn’t be a total waste. At a red light, my nails found the bug bite again. The skin around the red bump had reddened. I flinched and replaced my hand on the steering wheel.
Gas, then two blocks more. I couldn’t let Mom and Aggie down, or myself.
Daniel and I used to grocery shop together. We’d cruise the aisles, time spent together instead of a chore.
The trips had been riddled with talks of the future. Future homes. Future children. What could we afford? How many children? Boy or girl? Would we use his grandmother’s name or my father’s?
Our dreams had filled the aisles. Shopping flew by too quick at times. We hadn’t planned it all yet. The details weren’t perfect.
The baby aisle pulled us. Just a peek. Not time yet, but we could glance at the prices, admire the tiny supplies. We’d inventoried all the baby goods the store carried, ready for our peanut to grow.
Peanut one didn’t make it past three weeks. Peanut two, four. Peanut three almost hit the three-month mark. Peanut four broke my heart.
Inhospitable.
Our shopping trips grew quiet.
No more planning. No more dreaming.
“Could you pick up the paper towels? I’ll find the bread.” I would turn my back to the baby aisle.
Daniel retrieved the paper towels and dropped them in the cart without a word.
“Can you go shopping without me? I’m tired.” I couldn’t be in the same building as that aisle. Just the thought brought tears to my eyes.
Daniel gathered the keys and his wallet and left without a word.
“I just can’t.”
Daniel slept on the couch.
What about adoption? Or surrogate? Aggie had thrown out suggestions. The sister with a beautiful daughter. The sister who reminded me that Cassie’s hand-me-downs were waiting for me in the attic.
Oh, yes. I forced a smile. They were helpful suggestions. I’ll have to tell Daniel.
But Daniel and I didn’t talk much anymore. Each of us grew a cocoon around ourselves. We sat on the couch together. We even made love. But we were cocooned. We never really touched. Never really connected.
In the parking lot, I faced the store front. I could do it. I no longer mourned my dream family. I could face that aisle.
Peace lilies, frames, and hydrocortisone.
I repeated the list over in my head, held onto that list like a lifeline.
Peace lilies, frames, and hydrocortisone.
I rubbed the bug bite and then wrapped my fingers around my wrist. The bite pulsed beneath.
Peace lilies, frames, and hydrocortisone.
My cart filled. As many pots and plants as I could fit went into it. The tiny box of anti-itch cream was tossed in the child’s seat in front of the cart. I checked it off in my head.
Peace lilies, frames, and hydrocortisone.
The frames took me close to the aisle. First, I hurried past it, my eyes focused ahead. I feared even a glimpse of those small jars of food. After piling the frames on top of the box of hydrocortisone, I began my walk to the register. I slowed as I approached the aisle.
I looked.
It hadn’t changed. The same food still lined the shelves. Boxes of diapers still sat along the bottom. A section of rods and hooks displayed colorful toys. I even spotted the same dinosaur I had planned to purchase when I made it to the third trimester. Its large glossy eyes met mine. It seemed to welcome me back, an old friend.
A woman stood before the formula, her stomach large and round. She lifted a box and turned it over to read the back. Like she felt my presence, she turned to me and smiled. Did she believe I was going to be a mother like her, that my stomach hadn’t grown as big as hers yet, but that was only a matter of time. I tried to smile back, tried to twist my lips and force myself to feel joy for her and her baby, but I could imagine the grimace on my face. She returned to the formula. From the other end of the aisle, a man called her name, and she turned away from me entirely.
I moved on without stepping into the aisle. Maybe next time. Maybe never. The teenager behind the register barely glanced up from the products coming down the conveyor belt. I paid for the flowers and frames with the bank card Aggie and I shared, the one connected to Mom’s estate.
Outside, the air smelled crisp. The clouds above had grayed. I hoped for rain, hoped it would wash away the last eight years of my life, wash away the memories and grief. I couldn’t do it on my own.
But perhaps I didn’t want it to rain. I didn’t have the strength to keep myself from drowning.
Sweat dampened under my arms and my breathing grew heavy as I lugged the first armful of lilies up the stairs to my apartment. The picture frames hung from a bag draped around one arm. My nerves were raw from the trip to the store, and I just wanted to crawl in bed and sleep, but as I juggled the pots and unlocked the front door, I remembered Mom.
Part of me hoped she would still be there. She would compliment the flowers, lovingly scold us for making such a fuss over her. All the while, she’d be happy. She’d be proud of me.
But I shouldn’t be seeing my dead mother. I knew that. I held onto some of my sanity. I’d decided she was a ghost come to visit as I opened the front door. Stranger things had happened in Marredbury. At least a ghost meant I wasn’t crazy.
She still sat in that chair, her back to me. I studied the thin waves of her gray hair, each strand in its place. Her knobby elbow jutted out to the side and her thin hand gripped her cane. Aggie had gifted her that cane last Christmas. The chrome gleamed, the light seeming to dance up the length of it. I watched it leap and swing. My arms trembled with the effort of carrying the pots, but I couldn’t look away. The light beckoned me. It bloomed hope inside of me. It was all I needed. My mother with her cane, the light chasing away the darkness.
I stepped into the apartment. The flowerpots obstructed my view of my feet and I didn’t see that the rug had bunched up again. I felt it with the toe of my shoe, too late. With a gasp, I stumbled forward. The bag crunched beneath me, the plants flew from my arms. Dirt showered the living room. The lilies rolled across the carpet and onto the tiled kitchen.
My chin bounced off the floor, and I bit my tongue. Blood filled my mouth as I examined the mess before me. I stood up, and I could hear the shattered glass in the bag below me. Over my shoulder, I looked to Mom, but she was gone.
I left the rest of the lilies in the car. The rain had begun outside, and I didn’t have the energy to change out of my dirt covered clothes. The water outside would turn it all to mud, would make the pots slick. I’d just drop them and lose them all.
I’d called Aggie in tears. She was on her way over and would move the plants into her car. While I waited, I attempted to clean up. My hands trembled and my vision blurred as I dropped the wrecked plants into the garbage. I’d tossed the plastic pots into the sink and dusted myself off over the already dirt covered carpet.
I glanced at the chair again, scouring for any sign that Mom had been sitting there all afternoon. A mused pillow, a loose thread from her blouse, anything, but she was gone.
The quiet of the apartment brought me back to college. I lived alone, but friends visited often. They filled the rooms with chatter and laughter in the evenings. In the morning, I woke up to a mess not unlike the one before me. Spilled beer, chip crumbs, warped playing cards.
I enjoyed those mornings. Sure, my friends helped make it, but in the morning, the mess was mine to take care of alone. I mopped the floors, vacuumed the couch cushions, washed the dishes and tossed the playing cards in the trash. The apartment transformed by my hands. I was home, a home I created, alone.
I did the same that afternoon. By the time Aggie knocked on my door, the dirt had been removed from the carpet, and the broken frames had been wrapped and discarded. I had even smeared hydrocortisone on my bites.
I opened the door and my niece crashed into me with a hug. I gathered her into my arms. She latched on and I carried her to the couch.
“How are you feeling?” I cuddled with her, not caring if the warmth was body heat or a fever.
“I’m feeling a little better. Mom said you needed a hug.”
I frowned. “Do I?”
Cassie nestled closer to me. I looked at my sister, but Aggie avoided my gaze. She hung her purse on the hook by the door and dropped her keys inside.
“I saw the lilies in your car. They’re beautiful.”
“Two less than planned, unfortunately.” I grimaced.
“It’s fine.” She sat in the chair, Mom’s chair. She leaned her elbows on her knees and clasped her hands together. “You said you talked to Mom today?”
“Grandma?” Cassie rested her chin on my chest so she could look up at me.
I glanced toward the kitchen, to the closed laptop on the table. “I was looking for a dress to wear next week.”
“Did you see Mom today?” Aggie pressed.
I bit my lip. I felt Cassie and Aggie watching me. The walls of my apartment suddenly felt suffocating. “She sat in that chair,” I admitted.
Aggie drew a shaky breath in. She stood up, sat on her knees in front of me, and gathered my free hand into hers. I studied the chair, the way Aggie’s body had shifted the pillows, the evidence her presence had left behind, where Mom had left none. A ghost wouldn’t shift pillows, of course. I wasn’t losing it.
“Hey,” Aggie whispered. She squeezed my hand.
I returned Aggie’s gaze.
“I miss Mom too, you know.”
My breath caught in my throat. I darted my eyes back to the chair. The texture of the empty cushions mocked me, the view of it declaring its emptiness. It had only been filled by Aggie. I had been convincing myself that Mom was really there when I knew she was dead, gone forever.
Aggie interrupted my thoughts. “You miss her also, right Cassie?”
My niece nodded against my stomach.
“What…” Tears filled my eyes. I searched Aggie’s face for some explanation.
“It’s okay.” Aggie smiled. “I’m actually a little jealous. I wish Mom came and visited me once in a while.”
“But…”
I clasped my hand over my bug bite. Were they real or had I imagined them, just as I had imagined Mom? Only Mom had seen the bites. My ghost. Aggie’s gaze pitied me. My hallucination? My sanity had been slipping away for years. Had I finally lost it? I couldn’t look at my arm, couldn’t see that the bites had also been in my head.
“Why don’t you come stay with us for a while? Justin can put fresh sheets on Cassie’s bed. She can sleep with us.”
I nodded, mute. I stared at the empty chair behind her and a hollowness bloomed in my chest.
This was my life now. No babies, but I would sleep in a child’s bed. I couldn’t leave my apartment without panicking, and now I imagined conversations with our dead mother and fabricated bug bites. I’d have to find a doctor. I’d have to leave work. Would I be committed? My life broke at the seams before my eyes.
“Aunt Moira?”
Cassie’s voice pulled my gaze off the chair.
“What happened to your arm?”
The child cradled my wrist in her hands. Her head bent over the supposed bug bite.
“It’s just a bug bite.” Aggie stood up and held her hand out for Cassie. “We’ll get Aunt Moira some hydrocortisone or something when we get home.”
Thank you for reading Marredbury! What do you think of the Carla’s story on the ColbyStream? Let me know what is working or what needs to be improved below. I value your feedback.