“Where´s Tom? I asked finally forgetting who in the name of god was sitting in front of me. I thought him very rude as I was no spring chicken and he had left me standing here in front of him for what seemed like an eternity. “Get up and let an old woman sit down, have you no manners?”
He jumped up. “Sorry, now if you don´t mind let´s go, I´ve to call up to Mr. Ryan yet.” I scrunched up my eyes to look at him better. He looked familiar. He was very bony looking so, feeling sorry for him, I suggested. “Won´t you stay for a while. My mother is in the kitchen making cakes.”
Smoke bellowed out of his non existent ears. I felt as if it was my fault that he was angry. I wanted to ask him to sit down again and take the weight of the floor but all that came to my lips were the words. “Where´s Tom?”
Just then the door swung open and in came my happy little helper with a big mug of tea and biscuits. “Nuala,” she said while shutting the door with her foot. “Sit down there for yourself. What are you doing wandering around the room talking to yourself?” I turned to introduce her to the familiar stranger. He had disappeared.
“I was talking to Tom.” I said and sat down. She smiled and said “Had he any news?”
Then I remembered and started to cry. “Ah now Nuala what´s wrong?” she consoled me while giving me a big hug. I said bitterly through salty tears. “I´m all alone. All my family is dead. I´m the last to go. I just want to die. I just want to die. Why won´t I die?”
“Your daughter is still with you,” she said as if I needed reminding of it. “Ah I´m only a burden to that one, she tells me enough times.” I replied. “That´s not true, she loves you loads now give us a hug and have your tea before it gets cold.”
I knew where the conversation was headed. I was upsetting her and she was going to change the subject and I´d forget my sorrow and fall into banal conversation.
I tried to hold onto the feeling.
The tea was a bit hot. “Can you put some more milk in that dear?” I asked. She took the cup and went into the kitchen. I could hear her talking to my mother.
In the kitchen Nuala´s happy little helper ran into Nuala´s daughter, Nora, who had just come back from work. “You´re early!” said the helper. They began to talk about the old woman. The helper told her how upset Nuala had been when she suddenly regained her memory.
“Well sometimes, I think, if death tapped her on the shoulder and gave her the look, she´d even forget to go with him.” sighed Nora.
“I haven´t time to talk Nuala. It´s time to go now.”
I told him to put down the scythe and take off that mouldy back tunic he was wearing. Surely with all the money he was earning he could afford to do himself up a bit. “Look at the cut of you, come into the bedroom and I´ll give you something better to wear. I´m not going anywhere with you dressed like that.”
“I´m not Tom, Nuala, and we have to go now.”
I wasn´t sure that it was Tom so I asked him. “Where´s Tom?”
“He´s outside waiting for you.”
“Are you a friend of his?”
“I´m friend to no one.”
“Rubbish, stay for tea, I think mother is making cakes.”
“Your mother isn´t making cakes, she´s outside with Tom.”
“Oh no, they´ll kill each other, they could never get along you know.”
“I don´t think you may worry about them killing each other.”
“Well, I don´t think you know them that well at all then. I´ll put the kettle on.”
“There´s no time, the carriage is outside.”
I´ll be 93 next week or at least that´s what they tell me. Sometimes I remember what age I am but to tell you the truth the days I forget are often better. I don´t know what day it was but I suppose it was a day like any other. I like my routine. Change scares me now. My home help arrived a little late and flustered. She apologised and got me up and out of the bed. My mother had already given me my breakfast in bed and I told my little helper so when she scrambled off to prepare it. I was sitting on the commode when she came back. “Any luck?” she asked. “No, same as usual,” I replied. “You had better give me more of that prune juice.” She helped me get dressed. And then handed me my zimmer frame. We walked unsteadily out to the living room. I sat into my cosy chair that had the shape of my arse moulded into it from years of sitting in front of the television. “Where´s Tom?” I asked her. “He´s at work.” she replied without making eye contact. She brought the breakfast tray out to the living room and helped me eat. I wasn´t hungry and told her so many times. She ignored me. Then it was tablet time. I took a blue one for constipation, a red one for depression and another one for luck. I think I had an asprin too but I´m not sure now. “Where´s Tom?” I asked. “He´s at work.” replied my sister. Then my sister sighed, “I´ve to get the chores done now, call me if you need anything.” She kissed the top of my head and left me alone with the politicians. I had to laugh at myself when I realised they were only on the television. I really thought there for a minute that they were in the room with me. I grabbed the zimmer frame and hobbled into the hallway. “Tom, are you there Tom?” I called. “It´s only me” came the voice of my daughter Nora, hoovering upstairs. Oh , that´s right I thought. Tom´s at work. I slowly hobbled into the living room. I was exhausted. I sat into the armchair and leaped out again. “Jesus Christ, Tom, you scared the life out of me.” I said feebly. Holding my zimmer frame with all my might. There in my armchair was the cheeky Tom. Although he looked terrible ( it must have been all that work) I was glad to see him.