Chapter 3 The Package

Chapter 3

As the day grew warmer and windier, pleasant gusts of wind blew through the trees, causing the leaves to dance. In celebration of the wonderful weather, smaller bushes swayed merrily. Clara used to often lie in the sun at the beach when she was still in high school, and now would have been the ideal time to do so.

The situation had changed. With Stanley and Matilda in the back seat like two dependent kids and Clara in the front seat, overwhelmed by the massive responsibility she had chosen to take on for God only knew how long, she drove them home. Her thin shoulders slumped, just as her mother's had done before, as if a heavy burden had been placed on them.

As she parked as near the house as she could in the driveway, Clara took in the view of the yard. With everything growing and green, it was a beautiful time of year. The scent of freshly cut grass filled her nostrils after the lawn care man mowed it yesterday. She briefly wished she had more time to plant some vibrant perennials, but she quickly dismissed the idea. She could never find enough time in a day to accomplish all of her goals.

Clara assisted Matilda from the car first, bringing out her walker. She then urged Stanley to leave, but he refused to comply for some reason. He slapped her wrist a few times as she tightened her hold on his arm, ignoring her prodding. "Please leave, Dad. We must enter the building. They will charge me for a full day's absence rather than a half day if I arrive late for work.

He refused to move. His words and sentences came together in a confused, nonsensical babbling as he started to speak.

Matilda dragged her walker up to the car. Her hair swept behind her head as the wind grew stronger. Frederick, you must leave, my love. Clara needs to leave for work.

And feed you lunch before I go, Clara thought wearily, wishing she could just hop in her car and drive away like everyone else. Her decision at the doctor's office demonstrated how much she loved her parents and would do anything for them. She was still a human, though. She found it extremely difficult at times to put her parents' needs and wants ahead of her own. She never seemed to be able to accomplish her goals exactly. She resisted the urge to snap at her mother due to mood swings that could make her tongue sharp. That would not be acceptable, and she must not, not even for a second, let her self-control give way.

Stanley crawled out of the car as though he understood Matilda. With a slow, interminable push and lift, Matilda put his hand on her arm and walked toward the house on her walker. As she lowered one foot and raised another, her feet on the sidewalk appeared to defy her weight. Every movement caused a pained grimace on her face. Perhaps the trip to the doctor's office and the mental anguish she had experienced over the idea of placing Stanley in a nursing home had made her arthritis seem worse today.

After checking her watch and seeing how slowly Matilda was making her way to the house, Clara unlocked the front door and stood waiting, her patience ebbing. Clara inhaled deeply and told herself that although she felt compelled to hurry, Matilda was unable to do so. She was startled by guilt and instantly felt bad for being impatient with her mother.

"I can reheat our lunch, Clara, if you would like to leave, my love."

"Mama, I will do it." She could complete tasks that would take Matilda at least half an hour in ten minutes.

She grabbed plates of food from the fridge, which she had made from leftovers the night before, wrapped them in wax paper, and microwaved each one individually. She placed the hot food on the table and poured each of them a glass of tea. She took another look at her watch. She did not have enough time to eat lunch or prepare a sandwich for herself. She picked up an apple and carried it with her.

"Do not try to clean up, Mom. She kissed both of her parents and hurried off to her job, saying, "I will do it when I come home."

When she could spend a few minutes alone and free from obligations, she was grateful for the drive to school. Since the evenings were occupied with preparing dinner, cleaning up afterward, doing laundry, and all the other household tasks, it was the closest thing to leisure time she could claim. In addition to helping her mother with her bath, she also assisted Stanley with his bath to the extent that her modesty allowed. Then, when she was ready to go to sleep, she focused on her schoolwork instead. It was necessary to grade papers, read journals, and write comments. In addition to recording grades, there was a review of the lesson plans for tomorrow.

At times, it all seemed too much, and the only way to get rid of the worries, pains, and constant guilt was to get a good night's sleep. A day hardly passed, but Clara wished repeatedly that she could endure her parents' suffering for them in order to return their lives to normal.

At other times, she grieved for herself, for the boyhood dreams that would die, for the husband and kids she would never have. At these moments, her senses were assaulted by frustration and anger, which then transformed into guilt, the constant motivator that kept her moving forward with her mission to help her parents.

The only thing that kept her sane at times seemed to be teaching. Personal thoughts were put on hold for a while because it was difficult to teach and think about other things at the same time. During lunch, break time, or her working hours when the kids were in music, art, or physical education, they rushed back. At that moment, she rushed to the phone to call her parents to see how they were doing.

The speed at which each day flew by was yet another powerful benefit of teaching. There was never enough time in a day due to a busy schedule. It went by far too fast; at times, the day seemed to have ended before it had even started. Some teachers frequently wished the school day was longer because they were so engrossed in their students and their education.

The afternoon flew by on this particular day, when she only worked half a day, and Clara sent her students home. She started grading some math papers after organizing, stacking, and paper-clipping the mountain of class assignments and homework. She was too distracted to focus when she was alone with her thoughts, so she rested her head on her messy desk and contemplated how she would continue to handle the mountain of obligations that were taking over her life.

When the classroom door opened, Clara did not hear it, but she heard a voice and looked up. Dejectedly, she lifted her head.

"Are you alright, Clara?" It was Jonny Craig, her best gay friend; he was tall, thin, adorable, and had a big heart. Without him, how could she possibly survive?

Just another one of those days. This morning, I was required to take Mom and Dad to the doctor for their monthly examination.

"And?" Jonny asked, resting a hip on the desk's edge.

"Everything is the same. Mom continues to deteriorate every month, and Dad appears to be in as good of health as a teenager aside from his mental illness. We were advised by Dr. Peter to place Dad in a nursing home.

"Will you?"

With thoughtfulness, she shook her head. "No, Mom is against it. I could not do it even if she did not object. Jonny, I went to the nursing home, and I think that no one should have to spend the rest of their life there. It was heartbreaking to witness people waiting for death with no hope at all. It resembles a factory of human suffering, despair, and hopelessness. It seems less like care and more like punishment. I find myself thinking of it as a place of death. That is the term Mama uses.

"Clara I can appreciate your reluctance to include your father, but how will you cope when your mother becomes so incapacitated that she is unable to care for herself, let alone your father? Jonny, a kind friend with a lot of empathy, spoke softly.

Clara said glumly, "I do not know," with her shoulders more hunched than before and her elbows balanced on her desk while she held her head in her hands. As she considered the weight of the burden she must carry, tears tightened her throat, choking her. "I simply do not know." I can only take things one day at a time at the moment. The future appears to be bleak. My mom's relief that I agreed that Dad should stay at home with us is the only thing that makes me happy. But I am always worried about her. What if she hurt herself after falling and no one was around to assist her?

Jonny pitied his companion. On the weekends or after school, many of the teachers went out to party and have a good time. They dressed up and bought new clothes, met men, went on dates, and went to the beach or to eat dinner. Clara only occasionally accompanied them when Jonny insisted, but she hardly ever had any fun-aside from the evening she met the unidentified man named Nelson. Jonny felt sorry for Clara because of the burdensome duties she had to handle.

"What about your sister Vera? Is she unable to assist?" Knowing that Vera would never do what Clara was doing, Jonny asked. Vera wanted to marry an executive and worked as an executive secretary for a large company. She was driven solely to serve herself.

Clara gave a head shake. "Vera's fabric was different from mine. I spoke with her, but she refused to assist.

I wish Jonny had not sounded so depressing when he said, "Clara, I do not know how you are ever going to manage." The growing responsibility, however, appeared incomprehensible. Along with cooking three meals a day for her parents and taking time off work to take them to the doctor, Clara also had to grade papers, attend meetings, attend workshops, attend parent conferences, and more. She kept her lunches in the refrigerator so her mother could reheat them in the microwave. The mere thought of it was enough to wear anyone out.

Clara's eyes were filled with tears. "I am not sure either."

A delivery man arrived and set a vase of two dozen exquisite red roses on her desk as the door opened.

"My goodness, they are stunning!" With a shout, Jonny picked up the card and gave it to Jeannie.

The blue doe eyes of Clara widened. She grabbed the card from its envelope.

"To a gorgeous lady. "Nelson William," she said out loud. Her face was full of surprise. How could he have known where I was? I kept my school's name a secret from him.

Jonny laughed, "Well, all I can say is he was curious enough to find you and send you two dozen roses to boot."

With a sigh, Clara turned to face Jonny, her large doe eyes growing sad. Does it really make a difference? I do not have any more time for him.

Jonny gave her a pat in return. "You will find a way," he said, offering hope even when it did not seem possible.