Story of a Sociopath

  “The one who works nights just left, but the day nurse is here.”

  “And where does my father sleep?”

  “In the guest room. They’ve arranged your parents’ room so that your mother could receive the same care as in the hospital.”

  The doorbell rang and I decided to open the door. To my disgust I found myself face-to-face with my grandmother Stella and my grandfather Ramón, who tried to kiss me as they thanked God I was there.

  “I knew you would come. A son never abandons his mother. I’ve always told my daughter, ‘Your Thomas loves you, he’ll come, you’ll see,’ and here you are. See, Ramón, wasn’t I right?” said Grandma Stella, punctuating her speech with her arms.

  I got away as soon as I could. I never could stand those two old fogies, let alone just then, when it seemed that my grandfather’s indigenous features had become more prominent, which reminded me that destiny had dealt me a bum hand when it came to DNA. My brother clearly had predominantly Spencer DNA: pale skin, blond hair, tall and elegant.

  Returning to my room, I considered leaving. My mother wanted to see me, and she did. She couldn’t ask more of me than that. She knew better than anyone else that I wouldn’t play the part of the prodigal son returned to make good, settling myself at her bedside to hold her hand or help her drink. I was dialing the number for British Airways when Jaime entered without knocking.

  “I didn’t invite you in.”

  “I don’t care. Come see Mama. She’s worse. I’ve just woken Dad and called Dr. Cameron. I’ve also called Grandma Dorothy and Grandpa James and Uncle Oswaldo.”

  “What about Aunt Emma? Haven’t you called her?” I asked sarcastically.

  “She’s already on her way over. But you’re the one Mama wants to have near her. She asked for you as soon as she opened her eyes.”

  I saw then that Jaime was something more than the little angelic blond boy I’d assumed him to be. There was a determination in him that surprised me. I followed him to my mother’s room, where the nurse was struggling to keep Grandma Stella quiet.

  “Please, don’t overwhelm her. She knows you’re here. She doesn’t need to open her eyes to know that much.”

  But my mother seemed to have sensed my presence, because at that very moment she opened her eyes and gestured me toward her with her hand. I went unwillingly. I was shocked to hear her voice.

  “I’m dying,” she said in a whisper.

  “Yes,” I replied.

  My brother elbowed me in the ribs. There was deep anger in his eyes. But I wasn’t going to take part in this macabre game of telling a dying person that she still had life ahead of her. And especially not my mother. I felt no compassion toward her.

  The nurse asked us to leave the room while she tidied my mother up and looked at me with aversion.

  “You can stay if you want to help me lift her, ma’am,” she told Grandma Stella.

  “I’ll tell María to come,” Jaime offered.

  “There’s no need. Let me help her,” my grandmother insisted.

  We went into the hallway. My father came over, his eyes red. He seemed exhausted. He couldn’t have had more than three hours of sleep. If I’d harbored any good feelings I would have felt pain upon seeing him like that, facing my mother’s imminent death.

  Grandma Dorothy and Grandpa James and Aunt Emma arrived at the same time as the doctor. He seemed as tired as the others. He went in to examine my mother and when he came out he told my father that there was only one solution: to increase the dosage of morphine, although that, he added, “means accelerating her passing, but…well, it’s up to you to decide. If I increase her dose she’ll fall asleep and there’ll be nothing to do but wait for the end. Give it some thought.”

  Jaime told María to serve everyone coffee in the living room while he and I spoke with our father.

  “It’s a decision we need to think about and make between us, whatever happens,” he told the others.

  “She’s my daughter, I have a say in it too,” protested Grandpa Ramón, upset.

  “You’re right. You come too; María, tell Grandma Stella.”

  We went to the study. My father seemed dazed. He sat down in his old leather chair without looking at us.

  “We need to think about Mama—just her, not ourselves,” Jaime told us.

  “And does that mean we should let them end her life?” Grandpa Ramón raised his voice angrily.

  “I won’t let them kill my daughter!” shouted Grandma Stella.

  “Please! Don’t say such things! How can you think that any of us want Mama to die? It’s a case of…The morphine will shorten her life by a few hours. It’s a case of letting her go in the most comfortable way possible, without the anxiety of being unable to breathe.” Jaime tried to hold back his tears as he spoke.

  “No, no, and no! I will not let you kill my daughter. God alone is the master of our lives and He will decide exactly when He wants to take her to Him.” Now it was Grandpa Ramón who was shouting.

  My father continued to stare into space, uninvolved in the discussion. I felt like a distant spectator, although I was irritated by my grandparents’ histrionics.

  The study door opened and María announced that Uncle Oswaldo had arrived.

  My mother’s brother had never managed to feel comfortable in our home, in spite of my father’s and my brother’s friendliness.

  “May I come in?” asked Uncle Oswaldo in a trembling voice.

  “Go ahead, Uncle. Perhaps you can help me convince my grandparents that we need to prevent Mama from suffering any further,” said Jaime.

  “Yes…yes…Hello, Thomas, I’m glad to see you,” he babbled.

  I didn’t move from my seat. I nodded to him and continued sitting there, ready to see how this standoff between my brother and our grandparents would end.

  Jaime explained to Uncle Oswaldo what the doctor had said and how the spasms were making Mama feel as though she were drowning.

  “I don’t know what to say…To think that if she has the injection she won’t wake up again…No, no, it’s not for us to make that decision. It doesn’t seem right to me. The doctor should decide what’s best for my sister. I couldn’t live with myself knowing that I’d decided to cut her life short, even if it were for her benefit,” Uncle Oswaldo eventually said.

  “And you, Thomas, what do you think we should do?” asked my father in a barely audible voice.

  “You’re talking about euthanasia. It’s up to you to decide. I’ve never gotten along with Mama, so I wouldn’t be objective making a decision for her.”

  My reply shocked them. My father seemed to shrink, sinking into his chair. Jaime looked stunned. As for my grandparents, my words left them dazed. Only Uncle Oswaldo confronted me.

  “She’s your mother, Thomas. She hasn’t been a bad mother. She’s always worried about you. You can’t wash your hands of this as if it has nothing to do with you. We need to make a decision…I don’t feel able to make it because I love my sister Carmela so much that…but you…you can’t keep your distance from all this just because you two have had your differences.”

  “Yes, yes, I can. Don’t count on me to play the part of the sorrowful son or, more importantly, to make a decision about something I don’t feel concerns me: whether or not she lives a few hours more or how she dies.”

  I didn’t realize my father had gotten up until I felt his hand collide with my cheek. It was the first time he’d ever hit me. Until then my father had never laid a finger on me, no matter what I’d done. It wasn’t so much the pain as the surprise that left me motionless. When I did react I got up and was going to leave the study when my brother, Jaime, stepped in front of me and took hold of my arm.

  “Stop being such a dick. We know you’re good at it, but we’re not going to let you make one of your scenes right now. You’re going to participate in this decision whether you like it or not.”

  Jaime was squeezing my forearm. I had never imagined my brother to be so strong
. I thought he might punch me.

  “You’re a coward. You don’t want to take responsibility. You’re trying to clear your conscience and put this onto the rest of us. Do what you think best, it’s all the same to me. But don’t hide behind the grown-ups’ legs like you did when you were little. And now, would you kindly let go of me?” I said to him disdainfully.

  “You will stay here until we reach a decision,” Jaime said, pushing me toward the armchair.

  “All right, I’ll stay here watching while you fight with one another.”

  María suddenly came in without knocking; she was very nervous.

  “The doctor says that Mrs. Spencer wants to speak with you all.”

  My father got up so quickly that by the time we began following him he had already entered my mother’s room.

  “Carmela, are you all right?”

  “Juan, my darling, I’m dying,” she said in Spanish.

  “No…No…I won’t allow it…”

  “I’ve seen a lot of people in the state I’m in now. I’ve asked the doctor to…I don’t want to suffer, Juan. I know that there’s nothing left for me now. I recognize the signs of the end. Let me decide.”

  My father collapsed to his knees by the bed, desperately clinging to my mother’s hands, kissing them.

  “No. No, I won’t let this happen. I won’t let you go. Hold on. You have to hold on. You’re strong. You’ve always been the strongest one in this family. We’ll go to the hospital…Yes, yes, right now. Doctor, call an ambulance. They’ll look after her there, they’ll be able to do something…”

  “Juan…Juan…Don’t move me. Don’t make me die in a hospital room…I’d rather my last view be of this room, our room, Juan…please…”

  The doctor came over and helped my father to his feet. He looked at the nurse and she left the room to prepare the morphine injection.

  “She’s capable of making this decision,” the doctor told us, lowering his voice.

  “Juan, darling, tell my parents to come here…I want to say goodbye to everyone. Is Thomas here? You know I need to talk to him, that I can’t go without telling him…”

  “No! Let it go, Carmela.”

  “Please!” begged my mother.

  My paternal grandparents were the first to go to her. Grandpa James and Grandma Dorothy smiled at my mother as if they were merely saying goodbye for the day and expecting to see her tomorrow.

  “Dearest Carmela…we love you…You know that, right? You’ve been a joy to us,” said my grandfather as he squeezed her hand. Grandma Dorothy gave her a kiss on the cheek and stroked her hair.

  “Thank you…Take care of Juan, your John…although it sounds better in Spanish, don’t you think, Dorothy? In the beginning you always used to frown when you heard me call him Juan.”

  “Of course, darling, Juan sounds better…We’ll always call him that.”

  “Thank you…thank you for…You were always very good to me and Thomas. Thank you.”

  At that moment it became clear that something was going on concerning me, but I couldn’t work out what it was. Why was it strange that Grandma Dorothy and Grandpa James had been good to me? I thought quickly, but I couldn’t figure it out.

  Grandma Dorothy and Grandpa James moved away from the bed, giving way to Aunt Emma. Always so confident and calm, she seemed unable to control her weeping.

  “Carmela…Carmela…”

  “Emma, will you take care of Juan and my sons? If anyone can, you can. You’re so strong. They’re going to need you. Especially Juan. It’ll take him the most time to get used to the idea…Will you do it?”

  My aunt seized my mother’s hands and kissed them impulsively, as if she were a saint.

  “Don’t say anything, Carmela. Of course I will…I’ll do what you want. Don’t worry about Juan, or Jaime or Thomas, they’ll get through this. You’ll see…”

  My mother closed her eyes as she tried to hold back a coughing fit. The doctor came over to put the oxygen mask on her.

  “You need to give her a few minutes. She needs oxygen.”

  “Should we leave the room?” asked Jaime.

  “Move away from the bed…Give her some air,” the doctor instructed.

  I didn’t want my mother to die, not at that moment. She had told my father that she had something to say to me and he had begged her not to do it. Whatever it was, I wanted to know. I went over to the bed.

  “Can I speak to my mother?” I asked the doctor.

  “Not right now. I’ve just told you. You need to let her rest for at least a few minutes.”

  “Have they given her the injection?” My question was a blow to the ears of everyone present. Jaime came over and dragged me out of the room.

  “You’re plain wicked! How dare you say something like that in front of her?”

  “Leave me alone! Anyway, she knows she’s dying, she’s saying goodbye, or haven’t you realized?”

  “You’re the one who doesn’t realize what’s going on…If you say something like that again, I swear, I’ll crack your head open!”

  I went back into the room thinking that Jaime might follow through on his threat at any moment.

  My mother was very agitated when we entered the room. She seemed to calm down when she saw Jaime and me again. She smiled at Jaime and shot me one of those severe looks I had grown used to during my childhood.

  Grandpa James grabbed me by the arm, forcing me to stay by the door.

  “Don’t you move from this spot until the doctor tells you to go over. And for once in your life, try to rise to the occasion. She might not matter to you, but the rest of us here love her and we will do whatever’s necessary for her to pass in peace. She deserves that,” my grandfather declared.

  It suddenly seemed to me that my grandfather was talking to me as if I were a stranger. There wasn’t a single drop of affection in his voice. I felt unsettled. They weren’t going to let me dodge the duty my mother seemed to have established for me.

  Uncle Oswaldo, crying, went over to my mother. My mother began speaking Spanish again.

  “Oswaldo, my brother, what are these tears? Listen, don’t come to me crying. It makes it harder for me.”

  “Juan’s right, we should get you to the hospital,” my uncle babbled.

  “Why don’t you want me to die in my home?”

  “You don’t have to die!” he shouted with a great sob.

  “I’m already more on the other side than I am here. There’s nothing that can be done to cure this. One day, perhaps, but not yet. I have never fooled myself since the day they diagnosed me. There you have it, little brother, this is what happens when you smoke…You should learn from my example and quit. You could do that for me…Do you know how much I love you?”

  “Carmela! Carmela! Don’t do this.” Oswaldo was crying like a little boy, bent over the bed while she stroked his hair.

  “Be good, hey! Don’t go upsetting our parents. Maybe you’ll stay in this job awhile and get married.”

  My uncle was crying and sniffling. The doctor went over and led him away from the bed. My mother was having trouble breathing again.

  It was her parents’ turn and I feared the worst. Grandma Stella had already been crying for a while and so noisily that we could barely hear what my mother was saying to the others.

  “My daughter! Oh, my daughter! Oh, darling of my heart! Don’t go! We’re not going to let you go!”

  “Mama…Mama…please, don’t cry…Darling Mama, don’t break my heart…Please don’t cry…You tell her, Papa, tell her not to cry…”

  Grandpa Ramón was weeping in silence. You could barely see his clouded eyes through his tears. He was trying to hold my grandmother back so she didn’t throw herself onto my mother. He had his arm wrapped tightly around her, but Grandma Stella paid no attention to anything but her desolation.

  I felt there was something morbid about this scene, my mother saying goodbye to us all, one by one. It seemed like a piece of theater where she was the pri
ncipal character and the rest of us just had bit parts.

  The doctor had difficulty moving my grandparents away from the bedside. They would barely have taken a step back when Grandma Stella would move forward to embrace my mother again. This scene lasted several minutes, which seemed in keeping with the histrionics typical of their people.

  My mother had the strength to lift her hand toward Jaime. There was no doubt that he was the one she was waiting for, because she smiled as if she were seeing an archangel.

  Jaime went over, smiling back at her, and kissed her several times, gently stroking her face and hair.

  “I love you, Mama. You’re the best mother in the world.”

  “And you’re the best son I could ever have dreamed of. You’ve made me so happy!” she murmured.

  I felt the old envy roiling in my stomach once more. There were the two of them, displaying a love that was above what either of them could show any other person. Jaime was my mother’s darling boy and, for him, she was the perfect mother, someone who had always offered him a refuge. They were united as neither would ever be with anyone else.

  My mother held him to her for some time, whispering something in his ear. Jaime squeezed her hands while listening to her with a rapt expression. Not even the doctor dared interrupt, despite her needing the oxygen mask at one point. But as soon as she was feeling better, she hugged Jaime again and continued whispering who knows what to him.

  After a while, holding back his tears, Jaime moved away from the bed, indicating that I should go over. My brother asked everyone else to leave the room.

  “We’ll come back in a bit, but right now Mama wants to talk to Thomas alone.”

  For a moment I felt unable to go over to the bed. I became aware of the sweat running down my back. I hesitated. Jaime took me by the arm and tugged me over until I was in front of my mother. Then he left, along with the rest of the family. So did the doctor and the nurse.

  “If she looks like she’s having trouble breathing, put the mask on her and give her a few minutes to recover. She’s making a huge effort…Let us know if she needs us,” the doctor said.

  I nodded while trying not to crumble under the intensity of my mother’s gaze. My eyes were stinging.