Ness sat in her quiet home amongst her things, valuable all, but considered outdated. A phone connected to the wall, ashtrays, packs of Lark cigarettes, hard to get and good to smoke, which she could get away with, when she could get them. Inflorescence wallpaper covered the walls behind her two favorite worn chairs. Ness sat there most days, cigarette in hand, her scarf pulled down after time in a firm knot, her knees swollen from walking, and up on the ottoman, plaid and obliging.

She’d spent too much time reaching for things at the Woolworth today. The Christmas angels she wanted were on the top shelf, the ones with the stone looking tablet in hand, and the one with the long curls and miniature harp. She bought the two angels for her daughter Juliette and mailed them to her home in Lachute, Canada, not far from her home in Winnipeg. Ness wrote on the return address her new legally, chosen name. No, she thought, and scribbled over it.

Ness dosed more often now that her bones ached and the medication no longer worked. She didn’t mind, her dreams carried vivid times of old moments with high ceilings and pictured walls, children outdoors, her husband William alive and by her side. Ness had married a man she met in college. The one man who did not seem to notice her name was awkward. She did not take on William’s last name in fact she didn’t marry him. The temptation was there, but his last name was Smith, and wouldn’t that give her the same name as that singer who was famous with the kids in the sixties? This was just a rationalization for not marrying the man she lovingly lived with for over sixty years before he died of a heart attack.

Today’s nap was noteworthy. It was warm inside and her feet seemed wet, by warm water, and comfortable like a baby in the womb. Her daughter Glory had called to say the children were fine and to invite her down for a stay in New York City. She would go just after the weekend and stay for a while. Glory’s home was always clean and comfortable. She’d get her own room there someday. She’d take the one down the quiet hall with the window that overlooked the cliffs. She lingered in the moment, a labyrinth of thought.

Time was unreal, her body a second thought. The colors were she, with reds in the middle and whites on top. The only thing passing between her head and her consciousness were these bright colors and for a time she struggled to find her way to the end of the web. There was no end, only the white light after the yellows and blues. Some purples were there only they burned out quickly. She might have imagined that she was drowning in the colors, or that the colors were a threat to her existence, but that was not the case.

Ness relaxed and floated through the kaleidoscope. Breathing naturally and calmly, weaving around the color to find that she was the color and not herself any longer. She floated around in the white light and found she could turn it on and off. Ness felt familiar and muddled with the light, yet she knew her way around the matted staggering light. Fearfully she enjoyed the blinking light, what did the diming light mean? No longer did she know the difference. The difference meant, once it was gone, she was no longer. Ness Bitter’s being would be, no longer.

The phone rang early in the wintry morning, just after her granddaughter Rosetta fed her horse. She trekked to the barn, and back, and then began warming her hands by the kitchen stove. Rosetta looked around the blissful, quiet kitchen just before she jumped at the sound of the phone ringing at seven o’clock in the morning.

The mattress bounced, the comforter too weighty on her shoulder, her body making it that way. Warm, sometimes taking all night for it to heat up, it was these few early morning hours that were the best. Juliette told her daughter to go away.

“Mom, it’s for you, it’s Aunty Glory.”
“What? What time is it? No. No. I’ll call her later…”
“Mom, she’s crying….”

Juliette took the phone, fell still, gasped, and began crying herself. The early morning outside, was a portrait. A beautiful snow gray morning waiting for her to notice, Juliette put her head down, her daughter’s arms around her, and cried for her mother.

Nelson Warren, Attorney At Law, came to see Ness bright and early every morning for the last few weeks helping her put together what was her Last Will and Testament, at her desire and discretion. Everything was finished and signed by the time he came to see her that particular morning.

Nelson was the first person to find Ness in all her glory, she had fallen asleep, it appeared, and passed sometime during that soft sleep steeped in her body’s final color. He was glad for her as he took the cigarette pack out of her hand and took her coat off her lap. A big smile arose when he saw the receipt from parcel service on the coffee table next to her sending the angels to Juliette. Always thinking of her grandkids, he thought.

At the kitchen table, he opened his brief case, called the coroner and helped himself to a glass of iced tea. His set his scarf, coat on the chair and began pulling out all the papers they’d notarized and prepared. The papers were the means for her to pass quietly and not worry about where her worldly belongings would go and ensure her new legal name would sit prominently, on her headstone.

Nelson thought there might be some upset with the news of Ness changing her name, with her having already finalized it. Nelson was legally ready to show the world the new paid for, picked out and laughed at – regal sounding name – that would forever notify anyone passing by of who lay beneath this hallowed ground. Nelson thought, the reading will be soon and then her daughters can deal with the changes long after I am out of the picture.

The End of Ness Bitter Has Finally Changed Her Name, Tomorrow!