Empty the Room

The pillow was no longer comfortable under her head. Wet with salty water, she shifted to try and find a dry patch of cloth. Wiping her nose with the back of her hand, she found herself beyond care. Feeling her body ache all over, she managed to control her shuttering breath to a deathly silence so that they would not hear. Blinking out the tears that slowly formed behind her eyes, she looked wearily around her room, covered in the shadows of the night. Light streamed in from the uncovered window beside her bed. The rusty bedsprings complained as she flipped her pillow over, still searching for some dry warmth. With a hushed silence she watched the stillness of the dark shadows, in reflection.

She stood in front of the ominous door; not wanting to face the stale shadows that lay to reek. Her hand brushed the soft fur that nuzzled her side. With this reassurance she took a deep breath and reached for the stained doorknob. The door opened and she was engulfed with a stench. She almost gagged and Ashka whined.

’Why didn’t I take care of this before?’ She thought to herself with dismay, ‘Maybe it wouldn’t smell this bad. Yes it would’ve, but after a biology 1 test who would want to do anything? I think I’m going to be sick.’

She slowed her breath as she walked into the room Ashka wouldn’t follow her in. She tried to calm herself down as she watched the pink tile floor with the murky footprints leading out.

It was only an accident.

She picked up all the washcloths and placed them on the stained green rug that didn’t quite cover the entire floor. As she carried them down the steps, Ashka reluctantly followed her to the washer. Breathing the fresh air, they left the powerful odor behind.

’Mother tore up the last pink mat she washed.’ She thought to herself, ‘I wonder if I can even wash this? Cold water maybe. Gentle cycle so that it doesn’t fall apart. Tide or Woolite?’ She continued her trail of thoughts, bewildered, ‘I wish Daddy were home. I could call him, I guess, but he’s probably too busy at his new job. I know we need the money but I still wish he were home tonight.’

She added the new rug and washcloths to the soap and water then began the silent ascent back up the stairs. The smell surrounded her and she felt her haven slipping away.

’Ashka, if you don’t want to smell it stay down there.’

The husky followed regardless, a silver shadow with the palest blue eyes. They looked unreal. She turned away from the smell and into the kitchen. The dishes were piled high, with crusted food on them, more were stacked on the table, and some in the sink. She took a large step over the spot next to her chair. Food was stained on the floor that even Ashka wouldn’t touch.

Angry thoughts crept back into her mind,
‘Oh great, more work to do later. I don’t see why I have to do it all. I know what Shelby would say, "I don’t care. One more month and I’m out of this hell hole." It’s just you and me, Ashka. I wish so much that I could have gone to the Fall Dance. Though Daddy is so tired from stacking boxes at night and delivering mail during the day. I don’t have the guts to ask him for a dress to go in. Though I wish I was there, not cleaning up after her.’

She found the white paper towels on top of the fridge.

”Cheap paper towels,” She muttered in despair, ‘It better not tear. I’m not touching that. I know she can no longer work, but I can’t work either, yet.’

She searched under the sink for the 409. Peering through the open door, she felt her eyes watering. Ashka’s wet nose brushed the palm of her hand.

’Cleanliness is next to Godliness, but why place this upon this house?’

She looked at the task at hand. Ashka would not follow her into this room, she had to do this alone. Reaching behind the door, she took the garbage that had fallen to the floor out of the room and into the hallway. She sprayed the 409 on the floor, sink, toilet, and shower. The mix of 409 and the nauseating smell of filth made her stomach churn.

’Small breaths through the mouth.’ She told herself.

Doubling the paper towel, she began the hardest task of all. She pushed her hair behind her ear, exhaling, holding her breath.

’Come on now Morgan, you have cleaned this kind of mess up before. When Ashka was little you cleaned up more of her puppy doo than you care to remember, especially when she had diarrhoea when she came home from the shelter. You have changed lots of diapers, babysitting. You can do this.’

She knew it was there, the smell was impossible to block from her nostrils.

’I know it wasn’t her fault, it was an accident. But why must I clean up her mess?’ beginning to feel emotions stir, she stared towards her task, ‘She was never there for me. When I graduated Kindergarten, I put on my white tights and the green dress that twirls. Shelby put a ribbon in my hair and Daddy was the only one that showed up.’

The paper towels wiped against the hardened human faeces that bonded with the floor. She sprayed some more 409 on the mound and let it sit. She hesitantly wiped up the sink, which seemed white, and the toilet that no longer looked completely unusable. The trail of footprints no longer marked the way out.

”Depends are suppose to prevent this kind of thing,” She muttered, anger boiling under her skin, “But they never solve the problem of the travel from toilet to the trash can. She is sick. Don’t tease. But her motions are all uncontrolled, jarred, her bowels no longer work, her mind dies with her body.” Feeling tears run down her cheeks, she stood up slowly. “Will I ever know what it is to have a mom?”

She scrubbed the rest off the floor and collected all the garbage she had made along with all that was already there. Ashka shadowed her every movement as she went outside to try and remove some of the smell. The cold night air filled her lungs. She moved into the kitchen and tried to clean with soap that only killed germs. Finally, she wandered back to her room, passing by another room hidden completely in shadow, the master bedroom. She felt the rasping breath from inside and the never ending jarred movement of an uncontrolled body, rusting the sheets. She knew without looking, that the nightgown her mother wore was half open, showing more than she wanted to see, for she could no longer button it. The food stains entangled with her nightgown made new patterns. She could barely swallow anything, the disease taking over her.

She walked on to her room knowing the bathroom’s foul odor still lingered. Pausing, she opened the window in the bathroom, letting the night air fill the room.

”Mother is sick never to be healed.” She whispered with sorrow, “Ashka, I watch her die. Will I ever heal?”

She slipped into the darkness of her room and lay on the bed; her shadow following. She heard the echoes of a door in the house open and the familiar voice of Shelby complaining of how she can never have her friends over. Talking to nobody but the walls. Echoes of a rasping breath surround the house. She watched the shadows.

’I want to hate her but I can’t. But do I love her?’