Annabelle brewed a cup of hot tea for her mother who laid in bed in her full length fur coat and nude Christian Laboutin paralyzed with heartache. Her Mother was suppressing her alleged pain with Russian vodka. She always does this when she is falling into an emotional abyss. “Oh, this tea is perfect for a cold day like this,” said Annabelle. She reached into the medicine cabinet for a handful of sleeping meds and then grabbed the blender to liquefy it all. She added a low dose of LSD (Lysergic Acid Diethylamide) from Simon’s (her mother’s husband) cabinet which he uses to treat his chronic mental condition. She yearned for more of Simon’s gentle touch and the sexual arousal it brought and her heart grew fonder of his absence. “He must appreciate a woman who is maidenly to wipe away his misery,” she thought. She poured the mixture into the opaque cup of tea stirring vigorously as she added powdered cinnamon to contain the bitterness. As she smelled the aroma of the cinnamon extract, she recalled what Madame(house maid) had explained to her about love. Madame used to say that a woman can never be friends with a man for a long period of time without him wanting love and sex. She cared too much for Simon’s affection; it’s what was keeping her alive. “Why should mother rob me of that?” she pleaded to no one, “this is my time!”
Annabelle masked her face and showed only pitiable concern as she walked to her mother’s room. Her mother laid intoxicated and was disappointed in Annabelle’s long response time to her call. “I was making you tea, mom. You need to sober up or you’ll have a hangover if you don’t stop” she said gracefully. She wanted to titter maliciously but feared an uproarious belly laugh would spill out of her mouth. Her mother was enthralled by her warm gesture. She slowly tipped the edge of the cup towards her lips. Annabelle’s domineering stance towered over her mother as she watched her drink. “It’s a little sweet, did you add more than two tea–?” Time slowed down, space expanded. A volcanic reaction was erupting internally in her immune system. She felt her spirit enfolding her into the other side of Earth’s black hole. Was it the effects of LSD, a dangerous hallucinogen, or had death crept in? Her sub-conscious mind was attempting to interpret what was happening. Annabelle continued watching as if a boiling pot of milk was about to erupt. Mother’s unconsciousness carried her away.
“Simon! Simon!” She screamed excitedly as she rushed to his room. “What did she want you for?” asked Simon.
“Nothing at all. Just go deal with your heartless,superficial wife, who’s so wrapped up in her own need for luxury at the expense of others!”
He rushed to her bedroom. Annabelle lingered along. She stood by her mother’s bedroom door as if stalking her prey insidiously. Simon impatiently pushed open the ajar door. His batting eyelids squinted to see through the darkened room. As the moon shone its borrowed light through the windows, he sensed his breathing becoming erratic. Like a laser beam his eyes fell on her laid body covered with her dark fur coat as if seeing a dark apparition.
“What’s going on with her?” demanded Simon.
Annabelle schemed for an answer.
Simon rocked her shoulder, “Sweetheart, wake up.” He shouted. The silence of the room only echoed his voice. Annabelle, what did you do?” He suspected. His sigh wailed in the room like a howl. Both of his hands flew up in the air begging God for an intercession. He looked around for a sign, and looked at the clock for any numerological significance, but 10:17pm meant nothing.
Simon, the helpless romantic,collapsed on the floor from a heart attack; fighting to grasp longer to his silver cord inhibited between life and death. Annabelle stood over him, thinking of her mother’s tea melting the ice-cold feeling in her stomach she suddenly felt.