TRANSACTION

It happened about a month ago, March, warm already, people in light clothes everywhere. Matt just left the office and as he was waiting for the light to turn green, his phone rang: mother. She seemed different, not her usual self. He wanted to ask her to call again later – the traffic was getting heavier, but changed his mind: the more she talked the scarier she sounded. She was talking about some uncomfortable feeling above her right breast, not real pain yet, but a strange feeling that at some point it will become painful. She couldn’t stop, as though afraid to forget an important detail.

“Has it happened before?” asked Matt while passing a slow bread truck.

“You’re not listening to me, son!” his mother said angrily.

“It’s a legitimate question, mom…”

“It wouldn’t scare me to death had it happened before.”

He apologized and fell silent, and she went on by telling him that this morning, when she looked at herself in the mirror, her face seemed different, especially her right eye, slightly closed, as if she was squinting at the sun. She knew at that moment that her fear wasn’t groundless; she even began searching for her will, which she couldn’t find, and that made her angry: she was suddenly afraid that she is losing her memory, too.

“I can take you to the emergency room, mom,” Matt offered.

“And why would I do that? I’m not screaming at the top of my lungs because of some unbearable pain, and hopefully I never will. All I’m trying to tell you, son, is that these things usually happen all of a sudden: I know, I’ve seen too many people vanishing within a few months as though they never existed.”

“Just offering some help, mom, just that.”

She apologized and after a short pause went back to describing exactly how she felt at first and how the feeling had changed since this morning, and then again about her slightly closed right eye, and that could go on forever. To interrupt her seemed impossible. She was now remembering her high school girlfriend Linda who died of breast cancer two years ago, going into many details of Linda’s sufferings as though talking about them would make him understand better what she was going through.

“Sorry to hear that,” Matt kept saying. “Sorry to hear that, too.”

“You should’ve known her,” said his mother, “she was so full of life!”

“I should’ve,” he agreed. “Sorry, mom.”

“But you do remember Mrs. Brown, don’t you?”

“Mrs. Brown? Yes! I do! What about her?”

“She died of cancer, too! Wasn’t even sixty, never complained about anything, used to swim forty laps every morning and then – bam! – got sick and died a month later,” his mother paused as if she suddenly ran out of breath. “I understand that she was probably an exception to the rule, but that doesn’t change the fact…”

“I still think we should go to a hospital,” Matt suggested again. “Just to be on the safe side…”

“Not today,” his mother interrupted. “I need to take Fluffy to Petco for a haircut.”

“Are you telling me that Fluffy’s haircut is more important than your well-being?” he didn’t know what made him angry all of a sudden: his mother’s strange reasoning or the traffic that came now almost to a complete stop. “I was listening to your health scare for ten minutes now and I really think that we should go to the emergency room and get some tests done, but instead of agreeing with me you are worried about your dog’s look?”

Dead air for a while – then a calm explanation:

“I want to wait till tomorrow – it might be just a cold of some kind or one of those unknown flu viruses.”

“It’s your life, mom,” Matt said tiredly. “Call me anytime, okay?”

“I will, I promise.”

“I wasn’t impatient, I was worried.”

“You’re a good son, Matthew,” said his mother and disconnected the line.

He felt at a loss, thought that this could be more serious than his mother was trying to explain and almost turned around to drive to her house, but the thought, strong and convincing in the beginning, seemed suddenly weak and not worth the time. He parked his car in the garage and hesitated for a moment before getting out: should he tell his wife about the conversation with his mother or wait until tomorrow?

Decided to wait.

His wife Paula met him with a kiss and went into the kitchen to get the dinner ready.

In the den, which he used as an office since they moved into this house, while waiting for his wife’s call, Matt recalled his mother’s last few years of life. She turned sixty-eight recently, and her health was never a big concern – until now. Five years ago, right after her sixty-third birthday, she got into a car accident and actually had to spend a week in a local hospital. None of the bruises turned out to be life-threatening, and as soon as she came home she began talking about getting married again, going out more often and finding herself a decent man. Everyone took it as a joke, until one of the neighbors – strictly by accident – spotted her taking lessons in a dance club on Speedway Boulevard. No one really knew how to handle the delicate situation and kept the knowledge unannounced for quite a while. A few months later, everyone in the family received a dinner invitation, where his mother introduced George, a man in his seventies, tall, bald, and humorous. The rumor of the evening was that George is loaded with family money, and his mother hit a jackpot, but the rumor was short-lived. “I know what you’re all thinking,” she said before announcing a toast, “that I’m marrying George for money. Wrong! As a matter of fact, I’m marrying George for everything but money – and I love that everything stuff! Here’s to all that is not money!” Matt didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. As it turned out though, George did have money, and quite a lot (he retired from some governmental engineering position, which paid him a $60,000 a year pension and all sorts of benefits till his death), but he was also a great guy to be around. He had a joke for every occasion, drove a bike every morning for half an hour and seemed to be able to keep his new wife happy all the time despite continuous talks about his old age. Time went on. His mother moved into George’s house on the northwest side of town and they began traveling around the world. Two years later, while on a cruise in Italy, George became sick and soon died of lung cancer. Just like that. As they had agreed before marriage, he willed half of his money to his daughter and two grandsons; the other half went to the St. Paul’s Christian Church to build a childcare facility, which began functioning exactly on the first anniversary of George’s death. His mother got the big house and there and then added a paragraph to her will leaving the proceeds from the sale to the V Foundation: she was a longtime college basketball fan, and was always impressed by the fact that the V Foundation dedicated 100% of people’s donations to fight cancer.

All her savings, stock money and unknown amount of cash were going to her future grandchildren.

And now this.

“Is everything alright?” asked his wife coming into the office.

“I’m not sure,” said Matt.

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

“I’ll explain later,” he promised. “I just want to be sure myself first.”

“Well, let’s eat then.”

They had dinner and talked about the day that passed, changes at work and his wife’s upcoming birthday, and she started a list of people she thought they should invite and also suggested a couple of names she would rather forget. He argued a bit, tried to turn everything into a joke, but his wife became suddenly very persistent, as though they had to make up their mind this evening.

“Let’s get back to the list later,” said Matt. “I’m really tired tonight.”

“I can make you feel better,” his wife offered with a smile.

“How about a rain-check?”

“Don’t take too many,” she said half-jokingly, “you know what might happen if you do.”

“I won’t,” he kissed her and left the kitchen.

What he was thinking suddenly, getting comfortable on his side of the bed, was the fact that his mother never mentioned George who died of cancer, but talked in great length about people he either never knew or knew very vaguely. Was it because of bad memories she was trying to forget or she simply forgot about her late husband?

His wife walked in quietly, occupied her side and never moved.

“Please don’t be upset,” said Matt. “I do have a reason.”

“I know,” she said calmly, “I’m your wife.”