Date: Wed, 10 Nov 2010 14:31:25 -0500
From: Ben Joseph <shaggy85x@gmail.com>
Subject: Milo and Other Grains Part 3

All disclaimers apply: Don't read this if you're not suppose to,
duplication/distribution requires the permission of the author, this
story is fictitious and any similarity to persons alive or dead is
coincidental.

A big thank you to all the people who responded it really does
motivate me to write. Also sorry for the break I was really busy : )

Milo and Other Grains Part 3

     The plan. That's what they called it. And I knew what to do by
heart. We all agreed that when things got too much for my mom that I
would move in with grandpa and my mom and Cindy would go through with
it. It being my mom taking her own life. She had told Cindy months ago
that she would not starve away to nothing or scream in agony in her
last moments on earth. Her one last stand against this disease was for
her to take her life, not cancer.

     This was no ordinary plan either, it was detailed, one last
family dinner with prearranged topics for discussion. And a detailed
menu for her last meal. It was as if she was a prisoner awaiting
execution. I know all of this sounds strange, but my mother is kind of
a strange woman, well I like to think of it as eccentric. She always
got her way too. Grandpa wanted nothing to do with it, although he did
reluctantly agree to make some of his famous potato salad for her last
meal.

     I packed the rest of my things and called into work telling them
that my mother's condition had worsened. I can't believe this is
really happening. I text Atticus and let him know I won't be around
tonight. And then I escape to my room and cry, trying to be as silent
as I can. I don't want my mother to hear me, she is already in so much
pain and she doesn't need to feel guilty about leaving me as an
orphan. An orphan, how odd.

     I never knew my father and neither did my mom. My mom was kind of
wild during her college years and she became pregnant with me when she
was a senior. She moved back in with Grandpa had me and started
working as a teacher right away.  She had a few relationships in the
past decade but none really stuck. I always blamed myself, single moms
are not that much in demand, and I'm the reason she was a single mom.

     She is still in her room but clearly awake with all the
commotion. Cindy would check on her only to get shooed away. My mom
wanted to get dressed by herself, she is so stubborn. I help Cindy
prepare a huge meal filled with my mother's favorites.

   "Milo, hand me those peaches." I turn to find them and give them to
her and as I do she grabs my hand,  "Milo are you okay?"

   "Yeah, I'm fine, I guess as much as I can be right?"

   "Damn it Milo, this whole act has to stop, I know this is killing
you, but you bury it inside, I can tell, I do the same thing." I don't
answer, I just blankly stare back at her, "I know we already discussed
it but you can always move in with me and Valerie and the kids. You
know we would love to have you move in, we have an extra room."

   "Cindy we've been over this, I'm moving in with Gramps, that's the
plan," We have been over this again and again, I want to move in with
Gramps but Cindy wants me to move into her house, I'm guessing for the
free babysitting. Cindy and her partner Valerie have six kids
together. One from Cindy's former marriage, (to a man) and the other
five from Valerie's addiction to going to the sperm bank. Their home
is amazing, its out in the country and its massive. But its filled
with screaming toddlers and one spoiled tween girl.  I'd pick my
grandpa's house any day of the week.

    "Dad," My aunt rushes to him as he opens the door.

    "Cindy, wait a minute I have to set this down," My grandpa sets
his potato salad down and hugs Cindy who starts to tear up.

      We are all rushing around, setting the table and awaiting my
mother, and then she opens the door and strolls out. She has made
herself over, It's been so long since I've seen her in makeup and a
dress. She looks frail but in good spirits and she is smiling.

     We sit and have dinner and laugh and tell the same old jokes and
stories we always do and it feels great and I try to let it all sink
into me.

     My mother doesn't eat the food, rather she taste it and spits it
into a napkin, as it has become hard for her to swallow much of
anything. She is feeling more and more tired and we all gather around
her on her bed. It's getting closer, my aunt is a vet and she takes my
mother's morphine and adjusts it to complete the act for which we are
all here. My mom looks at me and smiles and says, "Milo, I guess
you're waiting for some kind of advice but the thing is you don't need
any I already know you'll be fine," We each hug her and Grandpa and me
head to his house. Cindy has the rest planned, she calls the coroner
who is a friend of her's and they make all the arrangements.

    I know my mom is dead but I like to think that she is still
sleeping, in that bed where I left her, looking so peaceful.

     My grandpa puts his arm around me on the drive home but we say
nothing to each other. The weight of the situation is hitting us even
though we both knew this end result.

    We enter his house and I go into my new room as my grandpa starts
calling friends and family from his small office. I try to sleep.

  ----------------

    Those next two weeks went by in a haze, the wake, the visitors,
the endless stream of casserole dishes mysteriously awaiting our
return every time we left the house. I appreciated the thought but
would have rather just tucked myself in my bed for awhile until I
could deal with this on my own. A week after the funeral, me and my
grandpa's lives were returning to some normalcy, the farm kept us busy
and that was the best medicine for me, I begged grandpa to let me go
back to work at IGA early but he said it was out of the question. When
I was busy with some task I wouldn't think about her, I wouldn't think
about all the times I would wake up on Saturday morning to the smell
of bacon and pancakes, I wouldn't think about the times that she would
race me to the mailbox or when she would rush in the house to
excitedly tell me that she picked the first ripe strawberry in her
garden. I wouldn't think of her and it wouldn't be so hard.

     Atticus had come to the wake and the funeral with his parents. My
mom and Atticus' parents were acquaintances and Atticus was in my
mom's first grade class. He really didn't talk to me much, he kinda
walked over with his head down shuffling his feet and told me how
sorry he was. I don't get that line, "I'm so sorry," I kept getting it
from everyone. Sorry for what, it's not like you killed my mom, I
guess it's sorry for me, people feeling sorry for me. Thanks, I guess.
Poor Milo, the little orphan boy, what an awful life. I guess I'm
getting bitter, people just wanted to help but the thing is, there is
no help anyone can offer, unless of course you have the power to raise
people from the dead.

     Atticus has been texting me, along with everybody else at school,
most of them didn't even have my number before this but they were nice
enough. They sent me condolences or invitations to go somewhere
whenever I felt up for it. I didn't think it would take my mom's death
to make me popular, but here we are.

    I go back to work today, I think it will be good to get back into
my routine. And I really want to get high tonight, with Atticus. My
thoughts are beginning to linger away from my mom for longer periods
of time and I don't know why but I feel guilty. Is this how it goes, I
just stop remembering her, that somehow feels like it cheapens the
relationship we had. But on the other hand I can't get into some ten
year depressing funk, my mom would definitely not appreciate that if
she were still here.

     "Milo, MILO! Are upstairs?"

     "Yeah Gramps, what's up? I leave my room and walk down the stairs.

     "Get down here and eat some damn breakfast, we've got some work
to do today."

     I finish breakfast and head out to start my chores. I open the
door and hit a wall of heat. I feed all the animals and clean their
enclosures except for Rosco's. This fucking horse, argh! Every time I
see him it makes me mad, mad at Rosco for being a horrible horse and
mad at my grandpa for buying this thing and making me care for it. I
swallow my anger and make my way towards Rosco. I head around back and
open the gate this time making sure to quickly get out of the way.
Then I start to clean out Rosco's barn and he is out in the field or
at least I thought so, I forgot to shut the gate behind me and now I
have this psycho horse nearing me huffing. I am paralyzed with fear,
from a horse, this is so ridiculous. My heart is beating like crazy,
Rosco moves even closer, oh my gawd I have heard rumors that some
horses bite and I do not want to be the one to confirm it. He is
looking me in the eyes and then I gather what little courage I have
and reach out to pet him and he doesn't freak out, his demeanor
softens and I am laughing out loud, Rosco isn't mean, he's a big old
baby. He rests his head on my shoulder.

      I tell him, "Aww, you aren't so mean are ya Rosco," And I finish
cleaning his stall. I run to the barn to tell Glen. I am high on
adrenaline and I am laughing running towards him. He greets me with a
peculiar look on his face. I am  guessing he's trying to figure out
what's up with me and my out of place jovial demeanor.

     "What's going on?" He asks.

     "I just petted Rosco, while I was in his barn with him in it!"

      "That's awesome!" Glen grabs me and picks me up hugging me.

     "I know isn't it crazy!" I state.

       Glen sets me back down. "You know it's great seeing you like this again,"

     "Seeing me like this, what do you mean," I ask.

     Glen looks me in the eyes and hesitates a little, "It seems like
it's been months since I've seen you smile,"

     "Shut up Glen, you make me sound like some depression case,"

     "Well, it's completely natural to be depressed, I mean with
everything going on. I mean if you ever want to talk about anything."

      I stop with my mouth agape. "Well I guess that's a good way to
wipe the smile off of my face." I get up and walk away. I realize it
was a dick move almost immediately. It's awkward to talk to someone
who has lost a loved one. But it's also awkward to be asked about
losing a loved one too. Still I shouldn't of did that and I turn back
to him.

      "Glen, wait, I don't know why I snapped like that."

     "It's okay Milo." He beckons me with his hand to sit next to him
on a bale of hay.

     "It's crazy Glen, I don't know what to do, I wake up in the
middle of the night wanting to check on her only to realize she isn't
there. I feel like I have forgot something every time I leave. I think
about her pain killers at noon. And I don't know if I'll ever be okay
anymore." I start to cry and Glen hugs onto me.

     "It's okay, just let it out, it's gonna be alright Milo."

      I gather myself and Glen asks me, "Hey what are you doing
Saturday night?"

     "Nothing," I respond.

     "Well how about you and me hang out, at least you won't be
getting into trouble," He looks at me pleadingly. And I agree.

    I get ready for work and Stacy, a cashier who works the same shift
as me, picks me up.

    She greets me with a meek "hey," and I greet her with the same. We
start down the drive in silence and then I finally speak up.

    "So what's been going on with work, the place didn't crumble
without me there did it?"

     Stacy smiles, "Yeah right, more like we've doubled productivity,"
My little joke opens her up. "So Milo, I know you have probably gotten
a lot of it but, how are ya doing?"

    "I'm doing alright, considering," I pause and look at her, "It's
weird you know, I knew she was going to die for months and I thought
we were given some kind of gift, like some kind of comfort not being
surprised by her death. But really it only made things worse, we were
just living with this dark cloud that kept advancing."       "Now that
she's gone I almost feel better in a way, sort of like she found
peace, real suffering free bliss."        "Alright enough of that...
have you heard any new songs, watched any new movies, heard any good
rumors? I look at her and she smiles,

      "Nope, not really" "Well actually when I think of it I did hear
one good rumor, I heard Glen Myers is gay.""But I don't think you're
that lucky Milo." Stacy finishes smiling.

      I tilt my head and smirk, "Shut up Stacy, plus what makes you
think I would be interested in Glen?"

      "Well he's hot and you're gay, that sounds like a match to me."

      We arrive at work and begin walking towards the door. I say to
Stacy, " he's not hot. . .cute maybe."

      The whole day is filled with my co workers and some customers
walking on eggshells and showing their sympathies to me and I find it
very sweet. I think I am getting better at this whole "letting people
in" business.

      I text Atticus and tell him that I want to get high after work.
Seeing as I don't live that close to Atticus anymore he offers to pick
me up after work.

     I then call my grandpa to tell him I'm going out after work, and
he reluctantly agrees after giving me a lecture about how this is test
to see if I can wake up tomorrow to help him and Glen on the farm.

    What is it about work time, I look at the clock and its 7:47, I
swear it was 7:42 three hours ago.

    "Milo get in!"

    "What?" I respond. Tim another bagboy and Stacy have a shopping
cart and want me to get in, I jump in and they start careening this
shopping cart through the aisles and into the employee break room and
through the landing dock outside. We come to a stop. "What was that
about," I ask while laughing.

    Stacy answers in a thundering voice, "You committed the ancient
grocery store sin of clock watching,"

    "So I'm guessing Rick is gone," Rick is our store manager and when
he leaves this store goes crazy, there's hardly any customers and
Stacy, Tim and me can finally go outside and smoke. Rick doesn't allow
the underage employees to smoke on his watch.

     I am glad to be back at work, I know that sounds crazy but my
mood is finally getting better after months of self pity and mourning.

--------------------------------------------------

Part 4 is in the works