Every Day, Take a Shower

Every Day, Take a Shower

“This is what I insist you do. Every day you must get up and take a shower.” Natalie’s voice had gone from the caring tone of a daughter to the professional, soft but officious tone of a therapist communicating specific instructions, except Natalie wasn’t a therapist. Far from it, in fact.

She could hear her mother’s response, a deep breathy sound of exasperation that indicated agreement.So, according to the instructions, every morning, no matter what, Natalie’s mother arose from bed to take a shower and get dressed. Her mother’s name was Antonella Rizzo. At one time Antonella was the perfect teacher, the perfect wife, the perfect homemaker, and, of course, the perfect mother. But there was more. She had always been inordinately pleasant and spirited.

No matter who she was engaging with, and she was always engaging with someone, she was full of smiles and hugs and offerings of food and drink. “Sit down,” she would command, “Tell me what is going on in your life.” And the person at the receiving end, whether it be family or friends, would do that. And Antonella would listen – genuinely listen. As far as offering advice, she offered very little. She only gave words of encouragement, kindness and hope, and out of all those things, hope was what people seemed to take with them.

How many times had Natalie left her mother’s presence feeling as if a burst of fresh air had sprung into her lungs? She would feel enthusiastic about the near future while not knowing exactly why. That was Antonella before her husband died.

Antonella dealt with his sudden death with great strength. It was up to her to hold it together for her daughter Natalie and her son, Joseph, Jr. And Antonella did appear to be that perfect beacon of strength and hope. Yes, it was devastating that Joseph, husband for over 30 years and father for over 28, was gone, but life had to go on. Life always must go on. Antonella knew that.

After two months or so everyone went back to their normal routines. Natalie was settled in California for a significant job promotion.She had been adamant about not going, but Antonella insisted, and in fact said she would be heartbroken if Natalie didn’t go. Antonella did not need a broken heart on top of a broken heart. Jospeh lived a couple of hours away in a lovely Pennsylvania town and now found himself checking on Antonella a lot less. Antonella said she was happy to remain at home, and she did for three months and for three months, she seemed to be managing quite well. Her children spoke with her daily and noted nothing of concern beyond the sadness one would normally feel for the death of a spouse.

The truth was that Antonella was not doing well. For one, she abhorred her home. The four-bedroom colonial that she once loved had suddenly become a peculiar sort of echo chamber. The space seemed enormous without Joe. Her own footsteps up and down the hardwood stairs gave her a headache. Entering the kitchen, now so oddly tidy, evoked panic. There was no need to brew coffee for Joseph anymore. There was no need to prepare healthy meals or to maintain Joseph’s blood sugar levels. There was no need to wash fruit, sweep the floor, or even run the dishwasher. Somehow when Joe died her very home had died, too.

Antonella couldn’t take another minute in this new, lifeless structure, so when Joe, Jr. suggested she put the house up for sale and move to a more manageable home such as a condo, he did not receive the pushback he expected. Instead, he was met with complete cooperation. “It makes sense,” Antonella had said, “Let’s put it up for sale as soon as possible.”

Natalie and Joe, Jr., knew the home would sell quickly and easily, but they did not count on it selling as fast as it did. Since Antonella did not want to live with Joe, Jr., they needed to find a new home and find it fast. Joe was lucky to stumble upon a condo complex 10 minutes from his home, and that is where Antonella settled.

The complex was called Whispering Woods and was occupied by people from all stages in life. Antonella’s place was on the first floor. It consisted of two bedrooms, two bathrooms and an adequately sized kitchen that provided a sliding glass door to a barely functional gated porch with just enough space to house two wicker rocking chairs and a small table.

Antonella thought the new space would alleviate her despondency to some degree and help her to function.But really how could a mere compartment in some building be a miracle worker? How could it help her eat again, sleep again and enjoy the things she used to enjoy like watching a movie with Joe or reading a good book? Though she loved her children this sadness was beyond that. It was a heavy ominous dark slab that deeply and stubbornly anchored itself into her very being. Nothing brought her relief or hope. This feeling was so debilitating that Antonella decided she would die.

She didn’t want to die inside of the condo, however. Outside on that small porch would be fine. Yes, she would die there. She would be found slumped over in the wicker rocking chair. A partially emptied bottle of vodka and a completely empty vial of pills would be set out right on the wicker table along with her cell phone on top of a short note to her children. The pills were painkillers and there were 14 of them. They had been prescribed to Joe many years before to help him recover from a knee replacement. The one dose he had taken had caused him to be violently nauseous and so he simply used over the counter painkillers. It seemed wise though for Antonella to keep the prescription in the medicine cabinet in case it might be needed for some other ailment in the future.

With the bed spread she and Joe had slept under for years wrapped around her, Antonella took several gulps from the bottle of vodka. When she started to feel woozy (and that didn’t take long for Antonella barely ate these days and she had never drank alcohol) she reached for the bottle of pills and swallowed them all.

That was the last thing Antonella remembered until she was awakened by the sound of crying or maybe it was screaming. It sounded like an animal, and she wondered if she was in hell for a moment. That made her angry. Antonella was sure she would go to Heaven. Then she realized she was still on the porch.She also realized that during the entire relocation she had been so numb and robotic that she had not registered her new surroundings. Was there a farm near this condo complex? One with animals? A goat maybe?

She felt sick to her stomach and before she could contemplate the failure of her attempt to end her life, she vomited right on her own feet and right on the empty bottle of pills which had fallen to the ground. Goodness, Antonella thought, wiping up everything with the bed spread and sitting upright. Thankfully, there were no chucks of anything in the liquid mess – a further testament to the fact that Antonella was not eating. Oh well, she thought. I’ll wash the bed spread today and try again.

As she slid open the door to go inside, she heard the cry again. And just when she questioned herself whether she heard crying, it became incessant. It was the cry of a baby, and it sounded close. On second thought, Antonella shut the back door and sat back down in the wicker chair to listen. The cry was coming from the outdoor space adjacent to hers.She got up and peaked over the fence and there it was, a baby all alone in a baby stroller. Its face was scrunched up, red faced and wailing. A knit hat was askew on its head, and it was kicking so much that a soft pink blanket had fallen onto the ground. A baby girl.

Antonella counted to sixty. Surely, someone was going to tend to this infant in a minute or two. What a beautiful child it was with clear pink skin and large round eyes that looked like they would someday become a beautiful blue. The hair on its head was scant and could be any color. The lack of hair reminded her of her own babies and added to the infant’s cuteness. She guessed the age to be anywhere between six and eight months. Then it happened. Antonella and the baby made eye contact, and the baby stopped crying and looked right into Antonella’s eyes. Into her soul, Antonella thought, as any Italian woman of her kind might.

Antonella smiled and the baby cooed, crinkled her mouth and flailed her pudgy arms and legs in expectation. Expectation of what? There was nothing Antonella could give. But then Antonella had a realization. She had smiled when her eyes met the baby’s. It was the first time she truly smiled since her husband died. She thought, “Real smiles feel so good.” She thought maybe that should be a slogan.

“Calm down little one,” she found herself saying in the same high-pitched voice that she had often used with her own young children and grandchildren, “You’re going to be okay.”

Sixty seconds were long gone, and still no one had come out to the porch. This was nonsense, Antonella thought, and she unlocked her porch door and reached for the handle of the neighbor’s porch door hoping it wasn’t fixed in a locked position. With one quick turn she was in the neighbor’s space. How shocking she thought that anyone could have entered.

She was careful as she picked up the baby. What an exquisite little being it was. She cradled her in her arms and whispered to her as soothingly as she could, “You are going to be okay pretty girl. You are going to be more than okay.”

She rocked the infant back and forth until the crying stopped. The baby closed its eyes, and her breathing became steady and peaceful. What to do now, Antonella thought. In her experience, one never wakes up a sleeping baby. Thankfully, there was a chair on the porch. It was rickety and old and certainly did not have the ability to rock but still it was a place to sit. And so, Antonella sat down with this baby girl in her arms.

She marveled at the baby’s peacefulness. Such a short time ago, this tiny creature was a writhing mess and now she was like an angel – a perfect angel with dark eyelashes, clear round cheeks and rosebud lips. Her steady breathing continued. Antonella sat with the baby nestled in her arms not worrying so much about what would happen next.

After what seemed like an eternity, the door to the porch slid open.

“Oh my God,” exclaimed the young lady who stepped out, “Charlotte, are you okay?”

The girl, and she really was a girl, took the baby from her with one swift, natural move. She was frightenly skinny. She was in urgent need of a hearty nutritional meal, Antonella thought. A steaming lasagna popped into her mind. She would have to find that grocery store her son said was nearby and purchase all the ingredients. No one disliked lasagna. This girl would at least have a bite. The girl wore eyeglasses that hung crookedly on her face. Deep gray circles formed like half-moons beneath her eyes. Her hair was a tangled, greasy mess. Antonella thought her unkemptness was rather shocking.

“Charlotte is fine,” Antonella said, “She has been a joy in fact.”

“Thank you,” the girl said, “Thank you so much. I can’t thank you enough. I am so tired. I am tired. I can’t get used to this mother thing.” And she sat on the porch steps with the baby tightly in her arms and began to cry.

“No need to be upset,” Antonella said in a soothing voice, “I am here. I know how hard it is to be a first-time mother.” Antonella hoped her assumption that this girl was a first-time mother was correct.

The girl started to get up from the porch and open the door, “Yes and I need to feed her.”

“Wait,” Antonella said before the girl could get inside, “I can help you feed her. In fact, I can help you all the time. I recently moved next door, and I live alone. I have been looking for volunteer work.” What a lie, Antonella thought, and she couldn’t wait for her and Natalie to laugh about it sometime soon.

The mother simply looked up – what a catastrophe she surely was – but she looked into Antonella’s eyes in as much the same way as Antonella and the baby girl made eye contact and said, “Well why don’t you come in, and we could talk about this. God knows I really need help.”

“I am the help you need.” Antonella mumbled quietly more to herself than the mother.

“Thank you.” the mother said, and Antonella knew she saw hope in this mother’s eyes. And as far as hope goes, Antonella suddenly felt it in her own heart as well.