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THE INHERITANCE: NOT A STORY FOR MOTHER’S DAY

This story was published in Black Petals in 2006. I recently submitted the story to another publisher saying that I am sending it now, because if published, I did not want it published anywhere near Mother’s Day.

                                          THE INHERITANCE                                      

May lay deathly still, listening, as her two daughters, Joan and Heidi, searched through her belongings looking for treasure.  Joan was the first to speak, “I hope the old bat dies before the end of the month.  That would save us a month’s rent.’

Heidi answered, “Quiet Joan, she’ll hear you.”

Joan replied, “Are you kidding?  She’s toast.  Even her doctor can’t explain what keeps her going.”

May Connors, age 62; lay dying in her bed in the small bedroom of her apartment in the assisted living wing of The Towers Nursing Home.  She appeared as a corpse ready for burial, her face ashen and her jaw slack.  Only the rare rise and fall of her chest brought home the fact that her withered body still harbored life.  Cancer had ravaged her physically just as cruel circumstances had ravaged her existence.  At one time her life was full of promise.  Now she had nothing, nothing but the cruel words of her daughters that seared into her brain.

                                                 * * *

May’s mind wandered back to when her daughters were young.  Five-year old Joan would say, “I love you mom, you’re the bestest mother in the whole world.”

Three-year-old Heidi would add, “I love mom.”

Those moments made the sacrifices she made for her daughters worthwhile.  Now her daughters’ cruel words blotted out the love she once held so close.

May clung to life with the hope that her two daughters, distant for so long, would show a measure of love for her before she died.  With her daughters’ words she knew that would not be.  The love she had sheltered in her heart became a cold hate.  A desire for revenge replaced her will to live.  Locked in the prison of her body, May’s mind and soul were tormented with the desire to somehow confront the shallowness, the evil her daughters exhibited.

As May’s determination for revenge grew, she heard Joan say, “I always liked this knife set from Switzerland.  It would look nice in my kitchen.”

Heidi snickered, “As if you’d ever use them to cook.”

Joan moaned, “I didn’t say I’d use them.  I said they would look nice.”

Heidi said, “You can have the knives if I can have the antique mirror.  I’ve always admired the frame and it would look good in my bedroom.”

Before she could help herself Joan commented, “On the ceiling of course!”  Both women laughed hysterically while May’s brain did a slow burn.

Joan said, “Since that’s settled, let’s go through the rest of this junk and see what we want.  What’s left can go straight to the dumpster out back.”

Then Heidi said, “Especially the crap she’s made over the years.  What about her clothes?

Joan replied, “Try to find a dress without food stains that she can be buried in and bag the rest for Goodwill.”

As her daughters mocked all that she held dear, May remembered a life of disappointment and tragedy.

                                                * * *

May recalled five months ago when she visited Dr. Stevens.

“I came for a checkup doctor.  I’ve felt rundown lately and have been losing weight.”

Dr. Stevens said, “We’ll run some tests and give you a physical.  That should tell us what’s going on.”

Two weeks later May sat in Dr. Stevens’ office.  The look on his face told May that the news was not good. 

“May, we have discovered your problem.  You have pancreatic cancer.  It has spread to your liver and stomach.  I’m so sorry”

May was in shock.  The rest of Dr. Stevens’ words tumbled into a blur.  He went on to talk about options and a realistic assessment of the time May had left, but the words seemed unreal.

The deadly cells had been spreading their evil throughout her body even as she planned her future.  May had thoughts of growing old and seeing her daughter’s lives blossom.  Now these alien cells did more than plan; they determined her future.

Life had dealt her many blows in the past, but May had always persevered.  It seemed distant now, but her life was once a dream, a dream that slowly crumbled.  May married late in life yet still managed to have two healthy daughters.  She quit her job as an interior decorator and devoted her life to raising her children.  Her husband Charlie’s salary as vice president at a local bank provided more than enough to enable the family to live comfortably.  Then the life she planned began to fall apart.

One day, as he did every day, Charlie kissed May and said, “I love you, see you tonight.”  She never took that kiss for granted for she knew how much he loved her.  But she never saw her Charlie again that night, or any other night.

Later that day, the phone rang and May answered.  She recognized the hysterical voice on the line.  It was Charlie’s secretary.  “Charlie had a heart attack.  They’re taking him to Glen Grove Hospital.  I can’t believe it, oh May.”

May rushed to the hospital. A doctor, Dr. Perkins, slowly approached her, and then said, “I’m the doctor that first saw Mr. Connors.  I’m sorry Mrs. Connors. We did everything we could.  Your husband passed away.”  Her Charlie, at the age of fifty and fit, died of a massive heart attack.

When her daughters graduated from high school, they also exited May’s life.  Joan and Heidi two years apart in age went off to college and never returned.  They both chose careers in business and both rose rapidly on their respective corporate ladders.  Joan became a manager at a major pharmaceutical company.  Heidi worked her way up to chief buyer for a major department store.  Neither woman had any thoughts of marriage and would not even think of sharing their lives with children.  They wanted their lives to be their own.  They lived well and traveled extensively.  There was no room in their existence for anyone else.  May’s hopes for grandchildren and family gatherings were dashed. 

May’s lifestyle went downhill rapidly.  In the ten years that followed, May found menial work and seldom saw her daughters.  When her children did visit they would suggest she start selling some of the possessions she and Charlie had accumulated over the years.  They never offered to help their mom financially.

Shortly after a course of chemotherapy, May suffered a stroke leaving the left side of her body paralyzed and her unable to communicate.  Her daughters arranged for a placement in an assisted living residence.  May’s home and possessions were mostly sold.  The rest were kept to furnish her small room.

  Now May was dying while her daughters scurried through her tiny apartment like vultures waiting for the end so they could pick May’s life clean.  Their mistake was that their greed would not allow them to wait until their mother was gone.

Two days later May died.  Her daughters got their wish and split the money they would have paid on another month’s rent.  But May also left them much more than money, she left revenge.

                                              * * *

It had been months since May’s death.  Joan and her sister had picked over their mother’s possessions and wound up disposing of almost everything the old women owned.   Joan found counter space for her mother’s knife set in her immaculate kitchen, a kitchen seldom used.

One day Joan’s friend Phyllis dropped by with the makings of a salad and a bottle of wine.  Phyllis drew one of the fine Swiss knives from its wooden holder and noticed a flaw.  It was a large knife and there appeared to be a cloudy area on one side of the blade.  Phyllis asked her friend, “What is this mark?”  Joan took the knife to the sink and tried to clean it without success.

“I’ve never noticed that mark before,” Joan said.

Phyllis asked, “Have you ever used the knife before?”  She then replaced the knife in its holder, chose another and prepared the salad.

The next day Joan dragged herself into the kitchen to clean up Phyllis’ salad mess when she noticed the flawed knife on the counter.  “Now how did that get there?” she said to herself.  As Joan studied the flaw it changed, became more defined.  Minutes passed as Joan began to recognize something taking shape.  She suddenly screamed, as the imperfection on the knife blade slowly became the smiling face of her mother.  The image sharpened and the blade began to move.  Joan backed away.  The blade followed.  Finally, she was cornered in the kitchen.  She closed her eyes.  On the front of her slacks she could feel a pressure followed closely by a searing pain in her abdomen.  Something warm and wet fell onto her feet.  She looked down to see the purple-tinged ropes of her intestines on the floor.  She looked up to see the knife back away, then come rapidly toward the middle of her chest.

* * *

Heidi had hung her mother’s mirror in the bedroom where she often enjoyed admiring her trim figure in its reflection.  It hung on the wall near the bathroom and she would smile as she glanced at her naked body fresh from the shower.

One day, while applying her makeup, Heidi noticed a cloudy area on the mirror.  She tried to clean it but it only became larger.  She hoped she wouldn’t need to have the glass replaced. 

Heidi awoke early a few days later to catch a flight to France.  She was now the chief buyer at the store and had been looking forward to this trip for some time.  After her shower, she entered the darkened bedroom.  As the mirror caught the image of her naked body, the cloudiness in the mirror began to glow.  She stepped closer to examine it.  An image began to take shape.  Looking at her was the smiling face of her mother.  Heidi screamed as the glass exploded.  Shards penetrated her eyes.  She could feel the vitreous humor and thicker blood flow down her face.  With gentle pressure the twin shards were pushed further into her brain.

                                                    * * *

Six feet beneath her blanket of earth, in the dank blackness of her coffin, a visage of peace crept across May Connor’s decaying face.  One might even say the ravaged face smiled.

                                                 THE END

August 30, 2025 at 3:31 pm Leave a comment