Scarborough Fair

Drowning in Air

"How long has she got?" a pale, weary Mr. Price asked.

"I don't know," answered Dr. Hamish in an equally tired voice. "A week, maybe less."

Mr. Price looked over at his son sitting in the corner, a dark shadow crossing his face. His expression was serene but his eyes spoke more pain than his father could imagine. Mr. Price worried about him. He was too young for his mother to die. 

"Can't you save her, Doctor?" Mr. Price whispered frantically. "Can't you do anything?"

Dr. Hamish just laid a hand on his shoulder. "A week, maybe less." He gathered his medicine bag and went downstairs, all of their hope going down with him every step he took.

"Edmund." Mr. Price kneeled next to his brooding boy and tried not to seem like he was going to lose the love of his life. "Would you like to go see your mother now?" Better now than later, he thought.

Edmund said nothing; his lip didn't even quiver. He walked stiffly towards the weeping crowd gathered around his mother's room. As soon as they saw him their faces were awash with sympathy and pity. I don't need your compassion, Edmund thought coldly. His heart became embittered towards these people. They didn't know a thing about what he was going through. They didn't deserve to be in the same hall as his mum.

Edmund opened the door with a slight creak. His mother was on the bed, her chest barely moving as she struggled for breath. Still, even on her deathbed, she bespoke grace and light.

"Mummy," he whispered, "wake up."

Her sunken eyes fluttered open, dull at first, but when she saw her son, they blossomed with life. "Hello, darling. What's the matter?"

"The doctor left and he says he can't do anything." As soon as he said it, a feeling of shame washed over him, as if with those words he had given up all hope of his mother surviving. Tears sprung to his light green eyes and ran down his freckled cheeks. "Don't go away Mum. Don't die!" 

"Oh, no, Edmund," she whispered soothingly, "don't cry, darling. I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere. Mummy's here. She's not going anywhere." Claudia suddenly lifted a foot off the bed and coughed. They were deep and hacking, like her body was going to fall apart. She reached for her hankerchief and spit out a glob of blood and mucus.

Edmund climbed into bed and rested his small head next to his mother's chest. Her body was so famliar, her heartbeat resounding with each passing moment, her hands lovingly stroking his hair. "I suppose you want a lullaby?" she asked weakly with a smile that went to her eyes. 

Her little boy nodded his head yes with tears still streaming down his face. Claudia began to sing, her voice cracked and straining but still beautiful.

"Are you going to Scarborough Fair-?"

She paused for a fit of coughing, each one paining her more than the last. But still she sang.

"Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme.

Remember me to one who lives there.

She once was a true love of mine."

The last word was sung on a whisper, light and airy as a butterfly's fluttering wings.

Edmund looked up and saw his mother's staring eyes. He looked down and saw that she wasn't breathing. "Mum," he cried, shaking her shoulders, "MUM! No, no, NO! Please! Don't go! Not yet..." He rubbed her hands, trying to feel any warmth in them, anything.

"No, this can't be real. She's playing a trick on me. She's just joking, right Mum? Right?" His mind refused to process what had just happened. His mother dead? What a joke! What a silly pun! And yet he knew in his heart she was gone. Edmund couldn't breathe. He felt as though he were drowning, drowning in a dark cesspool where his mother, his guardian, his greatest love, was no longer there.