Flipping the Coin

CHAPTER 8
MOTHER

After school each day, Roshan continued to help me with my math and my Spanish. With the math, his emphasis was always on the logical, trying to get me to think through solutions as he gave me occasional hints. As time went on, the hints became fewer and I began to get the hang of advanced algebra. Now that I understood the basic concepts, the more advanced ones didn’t seem so mysterious. But sometimes, I got so distracted looking at him I could think of nothing but how beautiful he was. At such times, it was very difficult for me to be logical about anything.

As for Spanish, I continue to have problems, especially with vocabulary. As I had done before, I made flashcards, and I worked with them daily, but words just didn’t seem to stick. I asked Roshan how he had become fluent in Spanish. He said, “Well, we lived for a long time near Houston, where my dad taught at the University of Houston. There’s a large Hispanic population in Texas, so I think I picked up a lot of it by osmosis, just listening to people talk.”

“Do you speak Farsi as well?”

“Not much. I’ve picked up some by listening to my parents talk to each other, but of course I never lived in a Farsi-speaking country.” As he talked and I looked at his cute face, I frequently had problems concealing my boner.

Two days after I returned to school, I went to see my assigned psychiatrist for the first time. He told me to call him Dr. Max, because nobody could pronounce his name. He looked to be almost the stereotype of a psychiatrist. He was short, the top of his head was bald and surrounded by a fringe of hair, he wore rimless glasses which perched on the end of nose, and he had a cute little white goatee that flapped up and down when he talked.

“How are you settling in at school?” he asked. I told him I had a lot of work to make up, but Roshan was helping me with my math and Spanish. Then he asked if I had had any recent suicidal thoughts and I told him no. He asked about Roshan and I told him we were in love. He didn’t bat an eye.

I was supposed to see him twice a week for a time. I was able to schedule most

appointments for after school, so I wouldn’t miss much school. I found him easy to talk with and not at all judgmental. I liked him and I thought that seeing him wouldn’t be too bad.

The school year limped along, sputtering and lurching towards the end. I can’t say I was ever happy there, but thanks to Roshan, my grades began to improve, and I even wound up on the third-term honor roll.

One afternoon after school, Roshan and I went to my house, where he was going to help me with my Spanish. When we went in, I called, “Mother, I’m home.” There was no answer. “That’s funny,” I said to Roshan. “Usually she answers.”

We found her in the kitchen, lying unconscious on the floor. I knelt beside her trying to find a pulse, my heart pounding with fear. Finally, I found a weak one. Quickly, I called 911 while Roshan called his mother.

Soon, an ambulance, a police car, and a fire engine pulled up in front of the house. When the EMT’s came to the door I took them to where Mother was. They checked her pulse and her breathing and then loaded her on the gurney to take her to the hospital.

When they went out the door, the police officer asked if I needed a ride to the hospital. I told him Roshan’s mother was coming. He looked at me for a second and said, “I know you. You’re one of the boys who got beaten up last fall.”

“Yes sir, and Roshan was the other.”

“I’m glad to see you’re up and about, and I hope there’s nothing seriously wrong with your mother.” I thanked him as he left, just as Mrs. Rajavi pulled up.

Roshan had told her on the phone what had happened, so we quickly drove to the hospital. As we went, I called Carl, and, when he didn’t answer, I left him a message.

In the hospital, we went to the ER. It seemed like we had a long wait and I was growing more and more anxious. Finally, a doctor came out to talk to us. He said that it appeared that my mother had had a stroke, but they needed to do some tests to be sure. So we went back to waiting. At one point I thought that I was getting very tired of hospitals, and I hoped that mother wouldn’t have to stay too long.

Later, both Carl and Dr. Rajavi came in. Around 9 o’clock, the doctor returned and took us into a little office, where he said, “She’s had had a very serious stroke, and nobody can predict whether she’ll have another one or how much she could recover.” I broke into a cold sweat as he continued, “At present her left side is paralyzed and she can’t speak. This stroke could be the only one or she could have a series of them.” Then he told us where we could find her.

We rode an elevator up to the third floor and walked down the hall to the ICU. Only relatives were allowed in to see her, so Carl and I signed our names and went in. My mother saw us and tried to smile, but she could only control one side of her face. I leaned over and kissed her, tears welling my eyes.

Since she couldn’t talk, we talked to her, telling her we were sorry she was sick, and we hoped she’d feel better soon. While I held her hand, Carl was holding her other one.

In a while, the nurse told us we had to leave so my mother could rest. We said goodbye to her, kissed her again, told her we loved her, and left.

As we walked down the corridor and got in the elevator, The Rajavis suggested that both Carl and I should stay at their house for the time being. “Can I bring Orion?” I asked, and they assured me I could.

I rode with Carl to our house to get the things we would need for the night and for school the next day. I asked him what would happen if she died, and he said, “Let’s just take it step by step.” That didn’t satisfy me, but I knew he was right.

We drove to the Rajavis’ house with Orion, and Roshan’s mom took us up to the guest bedroom which was right next to Roshan’s room with an adjoining bathroom between.

Then she asked us if we were hungry and we realized that we were. We went back downstairs and into the kitchen where she put out all sorts of food for sandwiches and encouraged us to make our own. The Rajavis joined us in a very silent meal. While we ate, I couldn’t get out of my mind the image of my mother lying helplessly in the hospital.

When we finished, we thanked them and went up to bed. Like Roshan’s room, this one had a queen-sized bed. We got ready for bed, and I poked my head into Roshan’s room to tell him good night. Then we got into bed with Orion between us. It took me a long time to get to sleep.

About 5:30 in the morning, the doorbell rang repeatedly. All five of us hurried downstairs and Dr. Rajavi opened the door. A policeman stood there with his hat off. I suddenly turned cold. We all knew what that meant. He told us he was very sorry to say that Mother had died about an hour ago after having another stroke. Carl and I burst out crying.

When Dr. Rajavi thanked him for coming and closed the door again, all the Rajavis hugged the two of us, Roshan saying, “I’m so sorry.”

Since we knew we wouldn’t get anymore sleep, we decided to get dressed and go to the kitchen for breakfast. Carl and I went back into the bedroom, got dressed, and went downstairs. I put Orion on his leash so he and I could go outside in the backyard for him to do his business. It was a beautiful morning, unusually warm for early April. The sky was blue without a cloud in it. There was a soft, gentle, Zephyr (a word I learned in English) just barely moving the leaves in the trees. I wondered how it could be such a nice start to the day and such a terrible one at the same time.

When Orion and I went back inside, Roshan and his parents and Carl were in the kitchen getting breakfast ready. I wasn’t very hungry, but I sat down and tried to eat something while we talked about what we should do. All three of the Rajavis said they thought we shouldn’t go to school, but I asked, “If I don’t go to school, what would I do all day? I’d just sit here thinking and feeling guilty. No, if I go to school, I’ll at least be keeping busy.” Tears began to flow into my cereal but that was okay because I knew I wasn’t going to eat it anyway. Carl decided he needed to make a few decisions about the funeral.

When it came time for Roshan and me to leave for school, his mom said to me, “If you want to come back in the middle of the day or even as soon as you get to school, just call me and I’ll come get you.”

I hugged her and thanked her. Then we went out to catch the bus.

School passed slowly that day. I really tried to pay attention in class, but my mind kept wandering. Neither the students nor the teachers knew that my mother had died, so they acted as usual, chatting and laughing. I guess they assumed that my silent mood was just me.

At then end of the school day, Roshan and I rode the bus back to the Rajavis. Carl was there. He said that he had called a funeral home and that they would get Mother from the hospital. He said that the funeral would be on Saturday and there would be a viewing on Friday night. I said I didn’t think I could bear to go to that, and he told me I didn’t have to go unless I wanted to.

Carl had called a friend of his and was going to spend the next few days with him unless I wanted him to stay with me at the Rajavis. I said that I would be with my friends and I thought he should be with his.

On Friday after school, I had a regular meeting with my psychiatrist. I told him what had happened. Through my tears, I told him that I felt guilty about not being nicer to my mother. He said he believed that nearly everybody felt guilty when a loved one died. They felt they had not done enough for them, they had not told them often enough that they loved them, they had not done enough to prevent their deaths. He said that was a very common part of grieving and it was okay. Eventually it would pass, and I would remember the good times with her.

I wasn’t at all sure that I agreed with him, but we talked some more before I left. Going out the door I dried my tears and thanked him.

Saturday morning, Roshan, his parents, and I got ready for the funeral. At the appointed time we arrived at the funeral home. Carl was already sitting in a front pew. He stood and gave me a hug saying, “We’ll get through this, Little Brother.” I nodded.

There were not a lot of people there, mostly people who worked with Father. There were also a few teachers from the high school and a few friends of Carl’s, but no kids from my grade. They probably didn’t even know what had happened.

I sat through the service dry-eyed. I had already done my crying. While I was sad that my mother was in that coffin, I hoped that maybe now she was in a better place. I didn’t believe in God so I had no idea what a better place would be, but whatever or wherever it was, I hoped she was there.

The service itself was dry and uninspiring. The minister tried to say words about my mother but clearly he never knew her. There were prayers and a Psalm or two before we filed out of the chapel behind the coffin.

I did still feel guilty.The rational side of me said that there was nothing I could have done; the irrational side of me still didn’t accept that.

We rode to the cemetery in silence and sat in silence as the minister said some final words. Then the coffin was lowered into the ground and that was the end.

There was to be no reception or anything after the funeral, so we left the cemetery and returned to the Rajavis’ house. After a simple lunch at home, Roshan asked me if it was all right if he practiced for a while, and I told him that was fine. I sat in the kitchen and listened. I was amaze that he had made so much progress on his cello. His parents had bought him a good one, and I loved the tone.

Later, I went up to my bedroom and tried to do some homework without much success. When Roshan came up, we both talked about the funeral. Neither one of us had ever been to one before, so our total experience with funerals was ones we had seen in movies, which we didn’t think were very accurate. We talked about burial versus cremation and we both voted for cremation. Of course, we hoped that time was still a long way away, but we also hoped we would have more friends there when the time came.

After dinner and some quiet talk, I went to bed, although I didn’t think I would be able to sleep. I could hear Roshan in the bathroom also getting ready. As I cuddled with Orion, I heard Roshan open the bathroom door into my room. Then I felt him climb into bed beside me.

“I don’t think I’m up to doing anything tonight,” I said.

“I know,” he replied, “I just didn’t want you to be alone.”

Once again, I was grateful to him. Somehow, he and I and Orion all cuddled our warm bodies together, and soon I was asleep.

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