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Anima had been sick for months, bedridden by cirrhosis, which had progressed to Stage 4, otherwise known as end-stage liver disease. Her daughter, Bella, visited daily to keep her company and clean the home. She knew once Mom passed, hopefully in peace or not, the ending irrelevant; what mattered is she’d inherit the condo and not have to pay rent anymore nor deal with the bickering.

Bella Buttoni unlocked the front door, and just as she traversed the entrance, Anima’s hand-bell rang. “You’re late again. Those mental pills you keep taking are going to be the death of me and you. I need your help. Come to me. Now.” The bell continued without pause.

Bella dropped her oversized, fake Gucci purse on the couch and sprinted to Anima’s room. “I’m here now. What is it, Mom? What can I do? I’m sorry I took so long. Are you ok?”

“No. Don’t you care about me anymore? Did you forget about me? I’m dying.”

“I do care Mom and you’re not dying.” A necessary lie to tell a dying human. “Do you have any pain?” she asked, tucking the bedsheet under the latex mattress of the hospital bed.

“The pain’s all over,” she said, pointing her frail, bluing fingers towards her swollen, yellow toes poking from the blanket. “Why can’t you breathe, Bella? Do you have the cancer?”

Bella sighed. “No, Mom. I ran to your room and I’m out of breath.”

“Are you sure you don’t have the cancer? Maybe you caught it from me or one of your boyfriends.”

“No, Mom. Cancer is not contagious and you don’t have it.” Another lie. The doctor had told Bella the blood tests pointed to cancer developing soon. “What can I do for you?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to say hi,” she said with a sly grin.

“Come on. Give me a damn break. I ran because I thought something was seriously wrong with you. Call me only when it’s urgent. Can you remember that for me? Please…”

Anima paused for several moments and searched the room. “Remember? You should remember. You’re such a brat, Bella. I’ve done everything for you. Birthed and bathed you. I helped you with your first period and taught you how to have sex with that loser Greg from high school. You’re unworthy to be in my room. Get out.”

“Come on, Mom. You’re just being ridiculous now.”

“Get out.” She struggled for a breath. Not too long ago, she roared commands like a drill sergeant, but adding to the cirrhosis, emphysema had engulfed her lungs. “Be gone.”

“Fine. I’m sure I’ll be back when you start ringing that stupid bell again.”

Bella stormed to the kitchen and retrieved a bottle of scotch from the cupboard, filling a tall glass. A quick sip helped swallow three Xanax pills. She ambled towards the only window in the unit. One hand slid it open, as the other pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

She chased each drag with two gulps. With the glass emptied, she laid the smoldering cigarette on the sun-bleached sill, adding to the trail of charred imprints resembling railroad tracks. She refilled the glass and returned to the open window and lit another.

As she inhaled the first drag the bell rang again. “What are you doing out there? I smell smoke. You can’t do that here. I’m dying. Put it out. Now.”

“Oh my god, Mom. I’m not smoking. Can you just leave me alone for one goddam second?”

Turning, Bella stared into the concrete yard, barren except for one elm tree, which gave her serenity when she visited. As she brought the glass to her pursed lips, a white-tailed squirrel bounced from branch to branch beckoning her attention. “Aren’t you the cutest little thing,” she said, extending her arm far enough out the window to keep the smoke at bay. As the elixir took hold she slipped into a dream, joining the springing squirrel on the tree elevator.

Anima slithered onto the edge of the bed, her legs wobbling like stilts as she gripped the walker and rose to her feet. Taking the first step proved futile as the oxygen tentacles yanked her back onto the bed. She ripped the rigid inserts from her nose, throwing them to the floor. She rose once again, latching onto the curved handles with a determined grip, her twisting knuckles yearning to break through the diaphanous skin. Her eyes bobbed with each lurching step, as the worn tennis balls at the base of the walker scraped the floor. “Almost there,” she mumbled, as her shoulders bumped the hallway walls.  

Meanwhile, Bella had fallen deeper into reverie. She and the squirrel had become best of friends, propped on a branch and sharing the remnants of a walnut. “I love you so much,” she said, rubbing her tail, “I wish Mom was more like you.” The squirrel offered a subtle nod while munching.

Anima reached the kitchen swaying and gasping. Leaning against the black, marble countertop she exchanged the walker for a tug of the top drawer. The steel utensils crashed and clanged. Her vision had faded at the same rate as her body, but her memory remained intact. Searching through the drawer, she located the largest tool from the bunch. “This will do,” she said, lunging towards the walker and resuming her shuffle through the condo.

Bella’s heart warmed as she entertained the endless possibilities of a fulfilling life, if only the squirrel would stay with her, love her as no one had. Plodding, Anima made it across the tiled floor. As she came upon Bella, one hand steadied the walker, while the other raised the eight-inch butcher knife above her head. With one swift thrust she pierced the center of Bella’s back. Bella collapsed, her body splayed atop the window sill. “I love you, too,” said the squirrel as they nuzzled noses on the branch ledge. Bella gurgled a final breath with a bloodied smile, several droplets extinguishing the cigarette upon the ledge. Anima collapsed forward, snapping the blade’s handle as it tore through Bella’s back and into Anima’s chest. “I told you I was dying, you little, ungrateful, rude brat,” she said with a devious smirk and cackle.