Devil's Soul

Chapter 7 (more sad stuff, but I'll keep it short)

I think I told you before that I don’t like sad things. I’ve been avoiding telling you about how my mom was doing because it’s hard for me to write about. However, I think it’s important that you at least see an example of what she was like, so I will give you one.

When I came home after meeting the Devil for the second time, I found my mom standing in the kitchen by an un-chopped onion, facing the blank T.V., and holding the remote in her hand.

“Hi, mom! How are you doing today?!” I liked to try and bring positive energy to the house in the hope that it would rub off on her.

“I don’t like this channel,” my mom said in a monotone voice, “but the remote isn’t working.” She proceeded to press the “Channel +” button at a slow, but persistent rate.

I walked up to her and gently removed the remote from her hands. At five foot nine, she was taller than me (I was average, at five foot five), but she seemed so frail and weak that I almost felt like a giant standing next to her.

“The T.V.’s not on, mom,” I said softly.

“Oh,” she commented, not even seeming upset by the mistake she had made.

“What are you making?!” I asked, glancing at the onion and trying to revive cheeriness into my voice.

“Hmm?” She followed my gaze to the onion. “Oh, I just thought I would throw together some stir fry.” She didn’t make an effort to resume cooking (if “resume” is even the right word for it).

“That sounds great! Do you want some help?” I opened the fridge, in search of vegetables to put in the stir fry. “Where are the vegetables, mom?”

“Aren’t they in the produce drawer?”

“All I see is an apple.”

“That sounds nice,” she observed.

I jumped at the fact that she was showing interest in something. I grabbed it and handed it to her. “Here, it’s all yours.” I beamed at her.

She took it.

“Okay, how about you eat that apple, while I run to the grocery store to buy some ingredients,” I suggested. My mom normally did the grocery shopping, but she’d been a tad forgetful since the incident. I didn’t mind picking up the slack while she took some time to heal.

When I returned from the store, I found that my mom had made the stir fry with the apples and onions. She smiled at me proudly and said, “I made stir fry.”

“Yes, I see that.” I placed the bags onto the counter.

“I hope you don’t mind that it’s just apples and onions. We didn’t have anything else.”

“I know, mom, that’s why I went to the store.” I gestured to the groceries.

Her face fell. “Oh, I forgot. You did say something about going to the store, didn’t you. I’m sorry, Mavis.” She sank into her seat at the kitchen table and put her face in her hands.

I rushed over to her. “No, mom, don’t apologize! It’s not your fault,” I cooed. I sat in the seat next to hers and rubbed her back. I caught the scent of the caramelized onions and cooked apples. “This actually smells really good.” I picked up the plate she had served me and shoveled a forkful into my mouth. The taste of onions was a little strong, but it wasn’t too bad. “Delicious!” I announced.

My mom lifted her head a little. “Really?” she asked in a small voice.

“See for yourself.” I nodded toward her untouched plate.

To my delight, she obliged, slowly scooping the “stir fry” with her fork and slipping it into her mouth. She chewed at a tedious rate, but eventually swallowed.

“Isn’t it wonderful!” I encouraged, as if I was a mother trying to feed her toddler.

She shrugged. “The onions overpower the apples.”

“Here, take some of my apples! That will help!” I shoveled a portion of apples onto her plate, leaving myself with mostly just onions.

She smiled, and I cherished it. “I don’t deserve such a good daughter.”

I looked away, feeling guilty for not being a better daughter. “Don’t say that, mom.”

“No, I mean it,” my mom said, placing her hands over mine with a sudden burst of energy. “You warned me about Dave, but I was too selfish to listen.”

“Don’t you dare blame yourself, mom.” I gave her a firm look, and she squirmed under my gaze.

She finally sighed. “I wish you were around more to remind me of these things.” She smiled weakly and reached out to brush my cheek. “Why don’t you and your friends ever hang out here after class?”

I winced under the heavy burden of guilt. “We have to go to Mr. Bajaj’s house for yoga and meditation,” I explained patiently. We’d been through this before. I think she was having a hard time grasping why the three of us were suddenly so devoted to yoga and meditation, which was understandable since I hadn’t told her the real reason. I wished that I could stay with her, instead, but learning to control my eyes was of immediate importance. “You could join us, you know,” I suggested. I didn’t think that Abhinav or Chung would be thrilled by the idea of my mom tagging along, but I could convince them to tolerate it. My mom was in need of some mental peace. This could be a good way to help her achieve it.

She shook her head at the offer. “I wouldn’t want to impose. I’ve never been patient enough for that kind of stuff, anyway.” It was true that my mom had trouble sitting still. When she wasn’t at work, she liked to keep herself busy with cleaning or organizing. I had told her that I was perfectly capable of cleaning my own room, but she couldn’t ever resist the temptation of straightening it out. She hadn’t been quite as active lately, though, as she kept zoning out or forgetting what she was doing and leaving tasks unfinished.

“Okay, well, the offer still stands, if you change your mind.”

“Thank you, honey,” she said. I could tell this was code for “I’m not going to ever change my mind.”

This was one of her more lucid moments, where I had hope that she could be happy again.