James Turner kept dialing his mothers number, over and over, but each time a cold, unchanging voice said, The number is no longer in service. He hadnt spoken to her in two years. His wife had forced him to choose her or his mum and hed chosen his wife.
The words no longer in service made his breath catch. A cold sweat broke out beneath his white work shirt. Across the park where he sat, a gaggle of laughing teenagers passed by. He stared at them like a wild animal, bewildered as to who he was, where he was, or why any of it mattered life, laughter, joy, carefree moments A letter lay on his lap. In bold block letters on the envelope was his name: James. A full stop. His mother always put full stops everywhere. The letter was still sealed, so his sister hadnt read it. His mother had filled two pages with her immaculate, flourishfree handwriting each letter perfectly formed, as if written by a model pupil. It began: Dear James, my son. If youre reading this, Im no longer here
James choked on the words. He tried to hold back tears, but the more he read, the harder it became.
That day he didnt think about his mother. He went out for lunch, planning to bite into a greasy doner kebab, the meat snugly wrapped in salad, tomato and cucumber, drenched in the shops signature house sauce. He froze at the revolving doors of the shopping centre it seemed as if his mother stepped out onto the street. She wore a brown coat, dark wavy hair that fell just above her shoulders, a heavyset figure of a woman worn out by work and household chores. She was exactly the mother hed imagined for three months, appearing now and then in his dreams, sometimes packing bags as if about to leave, sometimes looking distant and sad, as if she could no longer protect him from the world. Three months earlier a small, bruised creature he wasnt sure whether a ferret or a rat had crawled into his bed. It shivered against his warm, halffurry body. Though repulsed, James felt pity and let the animal curl into a ball on his pillow, its tiny breath shallow. In the dark room he realised there were no rats or ferrets in his house; the creature vanished, leaving only a warm imprint on the pillow. He swore it hadnt been a dream.
That night his wife, Alice, was already asleep. James grabbed his phone and, almost instinctively, scrolled to photos of him and his mother smiling, a family still whole. He didnt know what to think.
Hesitating near the mall exit, he tried to catch the figure he thought was his mother, but a couriers question to the security guard stopped him.
Which floor is the electronics department on? Ive got a delivery.
The third floor, the guard replied.
I work there, James interjected, turning away from the doors. Whos the delivery for? Maybe its for me?
The courier, doubtful, read the label on the package.
Addressed to James Turner.
Thats me, James said, reaching out.
ID, please, the courier asked.
James patted his chest, pulled out his passport from his jacket pocket, signed the receipt and stepped outside. The street buzzed with chatter and traffic. He ripped open the parcel inside was a note from his sister.
Mother died on 12 June. She asked me to give you this letter. Dont call me I wont answer. You were and will always be a traitor to me.
12June. And today was 15September. That was three whole months without anyone telling him.
A wave of nausea hit James; his stomach clenched, his head swam. He nearly fainted, but the dusty, brick wall of the shopping centre steadied him. His mother was gone the woman who had given him endless love, loyalty and protection. The very woman hed once shouted at, Im no longer your son! after his wife demanded his loyalty.
He forgot about the kebab, the cappuccino, the hunger that had plagued him for hours. It was impossible to believe at first. He didnt want to open the letter there, so he walked, blind, back to the park and sat down. After a long pause he finally unfolded the envelope.
so Im no longer here. I have cancer, stagefour. Today I felt a sudden surge of strength and thought I should write before my hand fails. They say such a burst often means the end is near.
James, dont blame yourself. I called you countless times, hung up before the rings. Pride held us both hostage. Even now, pride keeps me from ringing you. Maybe you dont think of me, maybe you dont care, but youre my son and I cant stop loving you.
Im sorry I never got along with your wife; I was wrong in places, and she isnt easy either. Forgive the gaps in your upbringing I raised you alone as best I could. Perhaps I was a bad mother, since you turned away so easily. You punished me, son. Thats enough. Forgive me.
I wish I could wait for a miracle and hear your voice
James sobbed, fist clenched over his mouth. Hed never felt unloved or neglected. His mother always made time to talk, console, listen, advise. She guarded him and his sister like a wolfess. When two classmates tried to bully him in Year5, she grabbed one by the ear and threatened, Touch James again and Ill cut off your ear. She enrolled him in karate, teaching him to fight, to stand his ground, to show no weakness, only courage.
He pressed the phone to his ear, waiting for the dial tone, and thought:
Im calling you, Mum, please pick up. Im sorry I was such a coward. Let this letter be a joke!
Silence, heavy as a coffin, filled the line, then the same cold message: The number is no longer in service.
No! No! James shouted, dialing again and again, each time met with the same sterile reply.
He finally called his sister, only to hear her shout, Go to hell, you idiot! before slamming the phone down.
He asked for time off work and drove home, standing like a statue in the doorway, shoes still on, coat still on. His strength was spent. Alice, on sick leave with their baby, sat at the kitchen table.
Whats happened, James? she asked, her voice strained.
He looked at her, unable to speak.
Mother died, he managed.
Alices hand flew to her chest, a feigned gasp that felt false to James. Did your sister call? Whens the funeral?
It happened three months ago, he said.
And they never told you? she snapped. What a perfect family! No wonder were
Shut up! James snapped. Dont ever bring up my family again.
After calming down, they decided to drive to his sisters house. All of Jamess family now lived in a provincial town in the north. They set off straight away.
James drove like a madman, anger tearing at everything himself, his wife, his relatives, especially his sister. They burst into the flat where his mother had lived, now occupied by his sister. James slammed the door, his voice shaking.
You should have told me! You should have said Mum was ill! Youre a youre a
I should?! his sister, Natalie, retorted, cheeks flushed with fury. I didnt owe you anything! It was your duty to keep in touch with Mum! Youre a weakwilled, henpecked husband who swapped the woman who raised you for this this hag!
Alice tried to intervene, Dont
No, stay out of this! James snapped, turning back to Natalie. You should have let us know!
Whats it to you? You always shouted that you werent my son any more! Look at Alice, the poor thing, always hurt. Shes been living like a pig, never cleaning, never cooking, just lounging while Mum tried to help. She even tried to swap the flat for us, and now shes crying about it.
James remembered why the argument had started. His mother had refused a loan for his wedding; his parents had expected James and Alice to cover the costs themselves. Alice, a shy sort, kept to her room after work, rarely speaking, and when the baby was born she barely left the flat. She complained of postnatal depression, would kick the cot in private, and Jamess mother would sneak in to look after the child, which infuriated Alice. Their relationship had always been a battlefield.
Natalie hissed, You think Im to blame? Your mother never helped us. Shed always meddle, always trying to fix things she didnt understand.
Jamess mind whirled. He felt the weight of the flats walls, the pictures, the lamps, the coat hooks all reminders of his mother and the hurt hed caused.
Natalie shouted, Leave, I dont want to talk to you.
Not a chance, Alice retorted, Half this flat is mine!
You cant have it! Natalie snapped, Mum left it to me in her will.
Alice turned pale with rage.
James sighed. I dont need the flat. Natalie, I just want to talk properly
You dont need it! Alice cried again, Were renting, remember?
James went pale, but before he could answer, Natalie’s husband, who had stayed out of the feud until now, stepped in.
Out. Both of you. Get out of my sisters way. He shoved Alice aside, delivering a final, cutting insult. He forced them both out, slammed the door, and left them trembling on the doorstep. James stayed frozen.
James, why were you silent? Why didnt you stand up for me? Did you hear what he called me?
James said nothing, slumped on the grimy stairwell and wept. Alice stared, bewildered. Later, driving home, James said coldly:
This whole mess is partly your fault. Im guilty too, but youre the biggest. How can I live with you after this?
The final decision was yours, not mine, Alice replied. There are two culprits here: you and Natalie. She should have told us! She had to!
Youre a
They argued the rest of the way. Eventually James stopped answering Alices calls. He disappeared from the house; Alice didnt know where he stayed. He stopped answering the phone, and a month passed. The divorce left him with a messy home and a small son. He eventually returned, but remained distant, cold, his grief for his mother still raw. Alice felt no remorse for the latestage mother; she only pitied James, that his mother had ruined everything even at the end.
Sometimes James still swore he saw his mother on the street, a phantom passing by without noticing him. He turned quickly, only to find she wasnt there. Yesterday he thought he saw her on a commuter train, staring out the window. A crowd surged onto the platform; he pushed through, his heart clenching like iron. He nearly stepped on her foot No, it was another woman. It couldnt have been her.
Out of habit, he sometimes dials his mothers number, hoping for even a static crack or a single ring from the void.
The number is no longer in service, the automated voice would say.
Im his son! Mum, mum, hear me! he would shout.
Do not call this number again. Be grateful you still have a wife.
