a visit like no other

by Elizabeth Sundstrom

“Hello, darling,” Sylvia says when she opens the door to welcome her daughter, Tess.  The two have not seen each other in ten years, and both are shocked by the other’s appearance. Sylvia looks younger and more refreshed than Tess can ever recall. Tess, on the other hand, looks half dead.

“Don’t just stand there,” Sylvia says. “Come inside.”

She gestures for Tess to take a seat in the living room, a space Tess knows well since this is her childhood home.

“I know you’ve had a long journey,” Sylvia continues. “May I get you something?”

This is not how Tess remembers Sylvia speaking to her; with such formality. Yet Tess is so happy to see her mother again that, instead of sitting, Tess grabs Sylvia and presses her close. Sylvia returns Tess’s hug with a firm embrace.

“We need to talk,” Sylvia says, as she extricates herself.

Tess can’t recall how she arrived here or why, so she sits down on the worn sofa and waits for Sylvia to continue.

“You’re not aware of what’s happening, are you?” Sylvia asks, sitting across from Tess. “That’s normal. It can take time for everything to become clear.”

Tess isn’t sure what Sylvia is trying to tell her, but she wishes her mother would get to the point.

“First, you have to make a decision, and you won’t like either of your choices,” Sylvia continues.

Something about Sylvia is off. Tess can’t quite work it out. As she looks around, she realizes that her childhood home is also different from how she remembers it. The family photos are gone from the walls. Sylvia’s noisy Yorkie is nowhere to be seen. Nor is the dog’s bed and vast array of squeaky toys normally scattered throughout the room.

“This doesn’t feel right,” Tess says.

“Of course, it doesn’t, darling. How could it?”

“Mom, what’s happening?” Tess asks.

“You’ll know soon enough. But you need to focus.”

“Should I be worried?” Tess ventures. “I don’t understand any of this.”

“What do you remember about today?” Sylvia asks.

Tess thinks for a moment and recalls dropping her daughter at soccer practice and then...heading to a bar downtown. Tess broke her sobriety two months ago. Ten years of hard work and sacrifice down the drain. Tess pushes the thought from her mind. Initially, drinking again felt good; the alcohol was warm and familiar as it slid down her throat and dulled her senses. That feeling was soon replaced by shame and self-loathing as her life began to unravel, just as it had before sobriety. Showing up late, disheveled, and hungover for work.  Bitter fights with her husband after forgetting to pick up the kids at school. Blacking out before dinner. She was not anyone's definition of a functioning alcoholic.

“Oh, God,” Tess moans. “What have I done now?”

“Think, Tess. This isn’t easy, but you must remember.”

The house feels chilly, but the windows are closed and it’s a pretty day outside. A sense of panic is spreading throughout Tess’ body.

“Please tell me what I’ve done,” Tess pleads, a note of hysteria in her voice.

“Close your eyes,” Sylvia says. “It’s Tuesday afternoon. Soccer practice, then the bar, then what?”

“No! No, no, no...!” Tess sobs. “I need to get home to my family.” She hasn’t seen Sylvia in ten years because that’s how long her mother has been dead. Tess now sees that her own hands and clothes are covered in blood.

“You can't leave yet,” Sylvia says, her voice soft but firm.

Tess lunges for the front door and yanks it open. What confronts her is not the street she grew up on but a hospital emergency room with a female patient whose head is badly injured, her face unrecognizable.  Tess cries as she observes the scene. A flurry of medical personnel surround the patient, working in concert to save her life.

“Has anybody heard how the kid is doing," one nurse asks after the patient is moved to surgery.

“Minor injuries,” a doctor replies. “But the mother’s chances don’t look good even if she survives.”

“What kind of parent gets so drunk she tells her 15-year-old to drive,” remarks the nurse.

Tess heaves a sigh of relief. If she had her daughter in the car, at least her girl is mostly unharmed. It must be Tess on that gurney. Tess turns to look at Sylvia, who is shaking her head up and down.

“Choose, Tess,” Sylvia says quietly.

“Choose what?” Tess screams.

“Life or death,” Sylvia says.

“I'm already in hell!”

“You’ve been there for a while," Sylvia responds, before disappearing from the house that isn’t really Tess’ childhood home.

Photo of Elizabeth Sundstrom

BIO: Elizabeth Sundstrom earned a Post-Baccalaureate Writing Certificate from UC Berkeley and studied creative writing at Oxford University. Her work has been published in Blood+Honey, Beyond Words Magazine, Half and One, and Lunch Ticket. She lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband and two Labradoodles.