[ Ø ] — Bark bark bark! Lars braces himself as the familiar welcome party of his mother’s prized greyhounds surround him, warning the house of his intrusion before sniffing and immediately changing their demeanor. The switch from guard dog to companion pet sent chills down his spine. Plus he never really liked those dogs anyway. They’re mother’s. He shoos them away.
A familiar sound fills the hallway as he continues up the stairs. Clair de Lune echos off of the walls, pushing memory after memory into Lars’ head with every crescendo, lulling them back out with every decrescendo. He closes his eyes and allows himself to exist in the moment, breathing in the stale scent of old wooden bookshelves and rotting books, now covered in dust. His father’s fingers trail over the keys delicately, beautifully. The music swells as he arpeggiates and trills the notes gently, bringing life to the black shapes on paper.
And then Lars’ eyes slowly open, the music fades. The dust remains, as does the empty study; the piano covered haphazardly with a sheet, unprotected from the elements. Likely octaves out of tune from lack of care. Lars sighs and continues down the hall. “Mother.” He calls out for her, announcing his arrival despite the dogs’ already doing so. “Mother!!” He pushes open the double doors to her room and shouts one more time, “MOTHER!” but is drowned out by the steady, rhythmic beeping of a monitor nearby. His mother, sitting in a hospital bed connected to tubes and IV lines. Her heartbeat continues to beat out a steady rhythm, ringing in Lars’ ears. Beep. Beep. Beep.
She slowly blinks her eyes open. Her gaze is far away and drowned by tears. Not from sorrow, no. She is a strong woman to the end, and she would never dare to let him see her showing weakness. Him, her own son. She coughs, and her eyes water further. She motions him closer with a waggle of her finger and he obeys reluctantly. What he wouldn’t give to run away here and now. Run away and never look back. But his feet are out of his control, and he steps forward. Step. Step. Step. Beep. Beep. Beep. He grabs her hand, small and frail and weak, and looks down at his mother. The one who raised him. The powerful head of The Belt. “Lawrence...” she rasps, “do you understand why I am so hard on you, my son?” He leans closer so that he can hear her whispers. The beeping of the monitor almost drowns her out. “It is... it is because...” He squeezes her hand.
“It is because you’re such a fucking disappointment.”
She coughs and blood splatters across the sterile sheets of her bed and stain her pure gown. Appropriate for her. But then she begins to seize. Her grip tightens on Lars’ hand, almost hurting at this point. And her mouth begins to foam as pink-tinged spittle falls from her lips. The monitor goes faster. Beep beep beep. Beep beep beep. Beep beep beep. Beep beep beep beep beep beep beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
Lars is pushed aside by the triage team, fighting to bring her back. But he knows she’s gone. He could see it in her eyes. He steps backwards, blinking hard to stop the tears from falling and showing his weakness. He turns and steps through the door to the room and
Bark bark bark! Lars braces himself as the familiar welcome party of his mother’s prized greyhounds surround him, warning the house of his intrusion before sniffing and immediately changing their demeanor. The switch from guard dog to companion pet sent chills down his spine. Plus he never really liked those dogs anyway. They’re mother’s. He shoos them away.
