Blackbird by Jessica MacIntyre

back again. It had returned to normal, well her normal at least. Then she said a prayer, like she did every time it happened, that this would be the last time. Whatever this thing she had been cursed with was she always hoped against hope that it would go away, but her prayer had never been answered. It always returned.
    After hiding the dirty wet towels behind the boxes she crawled naked into her sleeping bag, shivering. The house was freezing on this mid-winter night and she trembled alone in the darkness until the washer finally came to a stop.
    She threw the clothes into the dryer and lay down once more, beginning to relax as the warmth from the pipe that pumped heat into the appliance began to fill the room. Now she was ready to sleep. She drifted off as the noise rocked her into a badly needed slumber. She sighed thinking again about what Robert had said. She also thought again about his arms, the arms she had found herself admiring and let herself imagine for a moment that he was here, lying next to her with his arms wrapped around her. How wonderful that would feel.  If only , she thought… prettiest waitresses in town? If only it were true .
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Seven
                  Robert sat on the bed with his mother, quietly holding her hand. She was scared and confused, looking around at the new environment. The room was beautiful with a large window that overlooked a small pond. Other seniors were out on the grounds taking walks in the snow on the crisp sunny winter day. This would have been a great place for her before her mind had gone completely, but now it was the same as any home. She didn’t know where she was, only that she wasn’t where she was supposed to be.
                  “It’s ok,” he whispered to her. “I’m gonna come visit you all the time.”
                  “Robert,” she said, her face lighting up in a panic. “Have you seen Rusty? He’s not under the bed is he? Get him out from under there if he is.”
                  “He’s not under the bed, mom. Rusty is fine.” Robert didn’t have the heart to tell her that Rusty, her ten year old Yorkie, was back at the house, probably wondering where she was too.
                  She lay her head on her grown son’s shoulder like a small child and Robert felt his heart break into pieces. He put his arms around her, hugging her close. “Well, looks like she’s all settled in here,” Paul said as he entered the room. “We’ve signed all the paperwork. We’re good to go.”
                  Robert knew his brother and knew he was just being his pragmatic self, but he wanted to punch him. At least he had shown up. Greg and Michael had both crapped out at the last minute. He might be ready to go but Robert wasn’t, and his mother surely wasn’t ready for him to leave. “You’re such a good boy, Robert. Just like your father. You look like him too,” she said, glancing at the framed wedding photo he had carefully placed on her bedside table.
                  He did look just like his father, right down to the beard. She had told him this many times but each time felt just as good as the last.  Reluctantly, he removed his arms from around her tiny, now much too angular, body and tilted his head to look her in the face. “Why don’t you lay down, huh? You look tired.”
                  She did and he covered her up with one of the big quilts they’d brought from home. It didn’t take much to tire her out anymore and it had been an eventful morning for her. She closed her eyes and began to drift off almost immediately.  “I’ll be back tomorrow,” he whispered so that only she could hear him.
                  Robert joined Paul at the door, giving one last look at his mother before exiting. As they