It’s hard to be optimistic when everything seems terrible, but it is something Claire has been her entire life, and there doesn’t seem to be much sense in stopping now. The fact that Claire is such an optimist isn’t her fault; it was predetermined at her conception, as she comes from a long line of them on her mother’s side.
Claire channels part of her genetic makeup while she continues her phone call with her sisters, who are currently dissecting the ins and outs of their mother’s care. As their voices grow more strained, Claire closes her eyes and thinks of things that make her happy. Puppies are always a winner. Or she thinks of her mom before the dementia, when Claire could call her up and tell her about her day or get advice about a current problem. Now calls tend to lead to her mom confusing Claire for a cousin, Jane, but luckily her mom thinks highly of Jane, so it’s a positive association.
See, there are always silver linings. This is what Claire tells herself on the days it’s hardest to be losing her mother in slow motion, the days when Claire starts to feel a kindling of emotion that she isn’t comfortable allowing herself.
Her sisters are older and more accustomed to taking the reins, but they tend not to want to go in the same direction; this is causing them to revert to childhood, and long-held grievances are still holding strong. Claire feels her heartbeat quicken and starts thinking of facts she knows about pigeons, the oft-misunderstood birds she feels an affinity for.
“Darwin and Tesla loved pigeons. Tesla was even in love with one.”
She did not mean to speak this aloud, but she has spoken the fact loudly over her sisters, who have thus gone quiet. It is evident from the silence that they aren’t quite sure how to respond to this statement.
“Great, Claire. This is helpful.” Sarcasm drips from her eldest sister’s voice, and Claire is chagrined, but happy to know she’s derailed the escalating fight. The three sisters wrap the call with the expected pleasantries, and Claire, still holding her phone, heads out onto her back porch. It is starting to rain, and she won’t be able to take a walk, but they need the rain, so it’s a positive thing.
Claire sits on one of the porch chairs and sighs, taking a sip of her coffee, which has long gone cold, but she probably shouldn’t be having any due to her anxiety anyway. She sees a text from her son’s preschool pop up, letting her know he’s refused his nap again, which she knows means he just doesn’t want to risk missing out on any fun moments, and that is a good thing, even if that means he’ll be a nightmare when she gets him. She sets her phone down on the side table and tells herself everything is fine as the rain starts coming down harder. She’ll put her son to bed early, and, again, they need the rain.
After a few minutes, Claire decides she should probably go inside since the wind is picking up. She walks to the kitchen sink and begins washing the mug as she makes a mental checklist of her to-do items for the day. As she’s washing it, she drops it, and somehow it completely shatters against the sink.
Claire doesn’t move for a solid minute.
She stares at the broken remnants of her favorite mug, a mug her mom bought her several years ago. The water and soap suds are flowing over the colorful porcelain pieces scattered across the sink.
As the water runs, Claire’s pulse quickens, and her breathing follows suit. Her brain kicks into fight or flight mode, and the positive thoughts trying to fly their way to her are being battled by something else, something darker she doesn’t understand.
Claire’s vision starts to blur, and she knows it is from tears making their way out, and she hears her mom’s sweet consoling voice telling her she knows everything is going to be okay because there is always a bright spot in the world of an optimist, like when she had her first heartbreak, but there was someone better in the end, or when she didn’t do well in science sophomore year, but she was so good in Spanish class, which is helpful, and there are so many ways in which she sees the good and finds the good, so many ways in which she’s going to be okay. They come from a long line of optimists, and there is always a silver lining, a positive lesson for everything, even when it seems like there isn’t, even as her mom starts to forget who Claire is, and even as her son demands being held while she’s making dinner, and even as her to do list just keeps getting longer, and even as her sleep never seems to come anymore, and even as the rain is coming down so hard, and that is because Claire is an optimist, Claire is good at this, Claire is good at being an optimist.
She turns the water off and gently gathers the pieces of the broken mug, and then she carefully places them in the garbage can.
And then Claire opens her mouth and screams.
Elizabeth Reiser is a freelance book reviewer living in the Richmond, Virginia area. She received her BA in English from The Pennsylvania State University and her MLIS from the University of Pittsburgh. When not reading or writing, she enjoys spending time with her husband, son, and dog.