Chapter 1: The Wrong School
He was in the wrong city. In fact, he was in the wrong time zone. Instead of ocean breezes and palm trees, he was driving down a street of row houses that would likely be covered in snow before too long. Craning his neck, he read house numbers until he found the one that matched his notes.
The grey and blue house stood among many along the quiet street, each with a postage-stamp lawn in front and a short driveway to one side. He pressed the doorbell and waited. When the door opened, he introduced himself.
"Mrs. Coachman?" He said. "I'm Joshua Mitner. We spoke on the phone."
"Yes," she said. "Please, come in."
He stepped through into a sitting room, bookshelves with dusty volumes along one wall. A threadbare braided rug was in the center of the room over a dark wood floor. Mrs. Coachman motioned to one of the two chairs. Joshua stood before one of the chairs and lowered his computer bag to the floor.
"Can I get you anything?" She asked.
"No, thank you," replied Joshua.
She seated herself, and he followed suit, settling into the chair next to his bag.
"I understand you are going to attend Carnegie Mellon this fall. Is that right?"
Josh cleared his throat. "Yes, ma'am. I'm starting a master's degree program."
"May I ask why you're looking for housing so late in the summer? The term begins in a few weeks."
He looked down and sighed. "Mrs. Coachman, it's a bit of a story. I'll tell it if you like."
"Please," she said. "I like to know about a student before I agree to take him in."
Nodding, he began. "I was accepted to UCLA, my first choice, and I'd already flown out, secured an apartment, talked to my faculty advisor, signed up for classes, and made a list of textbooks when I got word that my mother was sick. She had been having trouble with muscle weakness for some time, but when I was in LA she had a fall. They did tests and determined that she's suffering from a degenerative muscle disease."
"I'm so sorry," she said.
He continued. "She lives in Wilkes-Barr. She was a single mom, so it was just the two of us. I flew back and found out she was dying. She was having trouble breathing, swallowing, and even sitting up. It had been a few months since I'd checked on her, and I didn't know things had gotten that bad."
He glanced at her to make sure he should continue. "I don't want to be two time zones away. I don't know how long she'll be here, but I want to be close. So, I gave up going to UCLA, contacted CMU, who had accepted me, too, and begged to be admitted, and now I'm here."
"I'm so sorry about your mother, Mr. Mitner" she said.
Josh looked around and assessed what he saw. The house was old but well cared for, the furniture worn but clean, and something you might expect from a friend's grandmother's place. But Mrs. Coachman was not anyone's grandmother.
She was young, perhaps forty, with blonde hair and an athletic build. Her long fingers folded into her lap, showing a wedding band.
He smiled. "You're very kind. Please call me Josh."
"What will you be studying, Josh?"
Josh took a deep breath before answering. "I'm taking a degree in Computational Biology," he said.
"My!" Mrs. Coachman said. "What prepares you for that?"
"I did five years at the University of Chicago for dual degrees in Computer Science and Biology," he said.
"If you stay here, what will you expect from this house?" She asked.
He raised his palms. "Not much. I'll probably not be here much. I'll spend a lot of time in labs and the library. That's the way it was in Chicago. I'm too busy to have friends, at least the kind of friends you might bring home, so that's not going to be a concern. I guess I just need a place to spend time when I'm not at school, a place to do my laundry and a place to sleep. Oh, and I do occasionally eat," he said with a grin.
"You have a car?"
"Yes, ma'am," he replied.
"You'll park it on the street," she said. "Rent is as discussed in the email, due the first of the month, with no exceptions. You'll sign a contract that gives us both a tenancy at will. My life is as I like it. If you turn it upside-down, you're gone. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," he replied with a smile.
"And stop with all the ma'am stuff. Call me Marie," she said.
Chapter 2: Mom
Josh settled into the Coachman house and then turned his attention to Wilkes-Barr. Carol Minter, a once vibrant, intelligent, and self-sufficient soul, had been placed in a hospice care facility, unable to eat or care for herself.
"Hi, Mom," said Josh as he entered her room.
Carol smiled. "Hello, you," she said, though her words were slurred.
She was seated near a window, the light pouring onto her, warming her while she watched television. Josh used the remote to switch off the TV.
The hug he gave her was awkward but heartfelt. As was the kiss on the cheek Carol gave to her son. He pulled a chair nearer to her and held her hand.
"I'm so sorry, Mom, I wasn't here when you needed me," he said, a tear in his eye. "Judy said you took a tumble down the stairs. How long were you there before she found you?"
Carol waved a hand awkwardly. "Not long. Don't worry about that. I was just a little dazed. Nothing was broken."
"Still, Mom, why didn't you tell me things were getting so bad?"
She shrugged. "You were finishing your degree in Chicago, and I felt bad about not attending your graduation. I didn't want to tell you I had a few problems and make you miss it, too."
He hung his head and sighed. "Mom, sometimes I really want to strangle you."
They both laughed, and her eyes brightened, just as they did during his childhood.
"Have you talked to the doctors?" She asked.
"Yes," he said, frowning. "They warned me this is progressing fast. I came as soon as I could."
She squeezed his hand and then released it. "Nothing you do or could have done will change anything here. I had a good life, mostly because I had you. I am so proud of you, Joshua."
He nodded and gave a wan smile. "I love you, Mom. I owe everything to you. You were my tutor from the first day of school. I couldn't have done this well without all the time and attention you gave me. And you made it fun. You always made things fun, Mom."
"Well," she said, "here's something that isn't going to be fun. I began cleaning the house when I found out I was sick. I made some progress, but I've left you with a mess. The dining room table has things that are important: photos, jewelry, and paperwork. The will and other legal documents are there. All you need is a death certificate to take care of things when I'm gone."
"Mom--"
"Quiet," she said. "We have to plan ahead. You can do what you want when I'm gone, but I suggest taking care of the things on the table and calling a junk service to empty the house of everything else. The furniture is worth nothing, and the electronics are old, though I left my computer on the table so you could erase everything when you're done. It all served me well when I was alive, but now its time is over. No guilt; just toss it all. That's what I'd do."
He nodded. "Thank you. I'll do as you ask."
"When do classes begin at CMU?" She asked.
"Tuesday," he said.
Carol paused for a moment, then said, "I like you visiting me, but we had a lifetime together. We both have memories to sustain us. Don't spend every weekend driving here from Pittsburgh. We can video chat a few times a week. It's nearly the same. I want you to concentrate on your schooling. Agreed?"
He pursed his lips, then said, "On one condition: if you need me or want me here, you say something. You tell me. You ask me to come. I don't want to hear later that you wanted me here but didn't say it."
Carol nodded. "Deal." Then she smiled. "So, no apartment this year? You're staying as a boarder in a house?"
Josh shook his head and chuckled. "Not my first choice," he said. "But the house is close to campus, I've got a nice office that used to be her husband's to study in, and she's helped with laundry and cooked for me a few times already. I'm very comfortable."
"What's she like?"
"Who?" Asked Josh, confused.
"Your landlady!" Replied Carol.
"Oh," Josh said, sitting up straight. "She's not what I expected. She's a widow but really young, like, maybe forty. Her husband was a lot older and taught in the Philosophy department. He died last year. That's why she's looking for a little extra cash from a boarder."
"Is she pretty?" Asked Carol with a glint in her eye.
"Mom, don't start," replied Josh.
His mother just looked at him, waiting for an answer.
"OK, yes, she's actually beautiful. She's thin and athletic, runs most days, is blonde, has a great smile, and is smart, funny, and no-nonsense. I was worried at first, but we get along great. I think it's going to be a good place for my first year."
Josh's Mom nodded her approval.
"It probably helps that you are a mature young man, not some kid out of high school," she said.
"God, Mom, I'm twenty-five, not fifty, but yes, that's probably helping," he said. Then he changed subjects again, "Do you need anything from the house? Maybe there's a book you need or something else?"
Carol's facial expression went blank. "No, honey, all that is yours. Please pay my bills and clean out the house. I've left some notes with the things on the table. This place, I'm afraid, is my last stop. I'll not be returning home."
Joshua stood and hugged his mother, tears flowing. "I'm so sorry, Mom."
Carol hugged her son's arms to console him.
Chapter 3: The Fall
"Good afternoon, Josh," said Marie. She glanced up from her book and saw Josh wrestling with a box of books and his laptop bag. "Oh!" She said, standing. "Can I help?"
Josh passed through the front door and bumped his butt against it to close it. "No, thank you. I got it." Then he paused to put the box down before proceeding. "Maybe one thing at a time for the net phase, though."
Marie rose from her chair in the front room to meet him in the entryway as he hung his jacket on the hook. When he turned, he smiled at her, his dirty blond hair still parted perfectly.
Then he began to stare, his face blank and his eyes wide. Marie's everyday attire of an old and comfortable CMU sweatshirt and yoga pants was replaced by a flowing dress with a subtle floral print, perfect for the season and following her lines. Her hair, typically up in austere-librarian fashion or a ponytail, fell around her face, framing it perfectly with her blonde locks dancing around her diamond post earrings.
