Mother-in-Law

A black and blue comedy

Note: I’m not saying I don’t love my Mother-in-Law, I did, I mean, I do, hopefully, if she recovers.

Matilda, April-Zerline. That was her full name. I called her Maz. Jenny had left the house to get her hair done, leaving me to get Maz, who is ridiculously fussy about her food, some lunch.

It was a Saturday, and a game of soccer was about to be televised, so I thought I’d get a food delivery.

“What do you fancy for lunch, Maz?” I asked.

She was dozing in her wheelchair. A year ago, she had a stroke and came to live with us. That was a sad day. She’s never really got over the fact I got her only daughter pregnant, to her it was only yesterday, not fifty years ago.

Maz mumbled something in response, either it was eeek! or it was Greek? Funny enough an old mate had opened up a Greek restaurant in the town, and he did take-out. Twenty minutes later, a delivery boy was knocking at the door. It was a good ten minutes before the game started.

“Look, Maz, it’s just lamb, nothing bad, give it a try. You’ll love it.”

Maz had been picking at her plate with a fork.

“Donna’s kebab, you said?”

“Not Donna, Maz, as in the girl’s name. Doner kebab as in Greek!” I sighed.

“Well, Harry, all I can say is, it may well be sold as lamb, but then again it may not actually be lamb,” she replied. And she poked some more.

“Well, that’s true of most things, Maz. But look, if you’re as hungry as you said you were, then…”

“I’m not that hungry!” She blurted out of the side of her mouth still working. Funny I should tell you that, because ever since her stroke, she looks more like Marlon Brandon with a wad of cotton wool in one cheek.

“Then give it over to me, Maz I’m starving. Jenny will fix you something when she gets home.”

“What happened to you, Harry? You were once a nice young man?” The stroke has altered her memory, which is a good thing.

“Things change, Maz. We move on. We grow old and we die. And if we don’t eat anything, we die a lot quicker than those that do,” I said, watching the game about to start.

“But…” She started.

“Maz, look, are you hungry or not?”

“Maybe…just a little,” she whimpered.

“Then eat the bloody thing! Stop wailing, or do I have to spell out the results of self-induced starvation?”

I watched as Maz pushed the meat around the plate. To hell with you, I thought, wait for Jenny.

The game had just started. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed she had something on her fork, which she ate. Thank God, that’ll keep her quiet.

I was into the game and settled back in the armchair. As one of the players became injured and the game was stopped momentarily, I turned to see Maz stuff a large green chili into her mouth. I jumped up in an attempt to stop her…but it was too late. Maz sat in the chair, staring directly at me as she chewed on the chili pepper.

A moment later her eyes went wild and piercing. I could sense the pain behind them, the ferocity of the chili pepper burning in her throat, sending violent thoughts to her withered brain. I watched in terrified awe as her weak hands gripped the armrests, her teeth grinding, the floor shaking as she wobbled from side to side in the wheelchair.

She was whining, her eyes rolled back in her head. I had to decide whether to race for water or dive for the phone. I chose the latter, cursing my choice of Greek food as I dialed the emergency services.

“Ambulance please…what? No…ambulance…my Mother-in-Law, she’s eaten a chili pepper, and she is choking to death…what… no, it happened last week! Fucking idiot, of course, it just happened! 202 Fore Street…yes above ‘In-A-Spin’ launderette…what do you mean twenty minutes, she’ll be dead in two!

The best you can do…what does that mean, my Mother-in-Law is riding the lightning here! I understand…be quick…age?…I don’t know, anything between eighty and a hundred…she’s pretty damn old. Just fucking hurry, okay.

I slammed down the phone and turned to Maz, now slumped over in the wheelchair.

Oh my God, I’ve killed Maz with a chili pepper! I was thinking as I jumped over the settee to be at her side. I grabbed her skeletal hand and tried feeling for a pulse. Nothing.

“Com’on, Maz, don’t be dying on me… I’ve already paid for your flying lessons!”

Far off I heard the sirens wailing. I should get her closer to the door.

She moaned, shaking wildly, but didn’t respond.

I heard the front door open, Jesus Christ, Jenny’s home. I’m fucked!

“Harry!” She screamed, “What the heck are you doing? You’ll kill her!”

“I’m trying to save her, honey. I think she’s already dead!”

“What!” Jenny cried, pushing me aside.

“I think I killed her with a green chili. I called emergency services, they’re on the way.”

Jenny placed an ear on her mother’s chest.

“She’s alive…just. Her pulse is weak…she’s hanging on.”

“Do you think she’ll be okay to fly, honey?”

“Fly! Harry, she’s an inch from the grave!”

“But she’ll be okay, right?”

“She’s unconscious. How did this happen?”

“Well, er, I fancied kebab for lunch. We were watching TV, so I ordered take-out from Artburn, Albie’s new place down the street. I think she ate a green chili. I didn’t see it, well…just as she ate it, but then it was too late.”

“You gave an eighty-eight-year-old woman Greek food with chili?”

“You know she likes to try new things, honey. I thought she would like a change.”

The sirens were getting close.

“I’ll get the door for the ambulance men, just watch her, and don’t do anything stupid.”

I thought it would be helpful to pick her up at least. Get her close to the door so she can be treated. As I was doing so, Tottenham Hotspur scored a goal against Liverpool. I looked up briefly, Jenny lunged to move the coffee table, seeing the tragedy in slow motion, but too late.

My legs gave way underneath me as I tripped forward, giving Maz’s airborne trajectory real momentum. She crash-landed somewhere between the coffee table and the TV set, just missing hitting her head on the corner of the TV stand. Then it was half-time.

Jenny screamed, climbing over me, I was slumped over the coffee table, in an attempt to get to her mother. There seemed no way an old girl could survive such a hard landing.

“Hell, Harry, now you’ve definitely killed her,” Jenny exclaimed, sobbing great sobs. I tried to be positive in a bad situation.

“Maybe…honey, but maybe she was dead before she hit the floor!”

The doorbell rang. Two paramedics were waiting for entrance, calling out.

“Anybody home?”

I opened the door. “Hurry, please. My mother-in-law choked on a chili pepper.

One paramedic, the one who bore an incredible resemblance to President, Joe Biden, looked at his partner after seeing the old girl spread-eagled across the floor, one furry slipper gone and chili sauce dripping off her chin.

The second paramedic immediately reached for his radio and held it close to his mouth.

“Better send the police; this looks like another of those vicious beatings!” He said as if playing the part of Peter Falk.

“What?” I questioned, “No…no…she was choking, became unconscious. I was bringing her to meet you to save precious seconds, and I fell across the coffee table. Ask my wife.”

“That’s right, he was only doing what he thought was best. There’s no malice here…is she alive?”

“Step away, both of you. Let me get a better look at her.”

The paramedic screened the old lady, took a pulse, and opened up a case that contained the echocardiogram.

There fell a complete silence.

That’s when the whistle went for the second half.

“Hmmm…very weak, but alive.” The paramedic said.

A flutter of relief beat through my heart.

“Let’s be getting her to the hospital. You wait here for the police. I’ll give them a report over the radio, but first, we must get her to the hospital.”

“She has a flying lesson on Monday,” I said.

“Honey, please!” Jenny said, as if looks would kill.

“Well, I think she was really looking forward to it, you know.”

“I think she’s done enough flying, honey. Let’s just make sure she’s going to be okay.”

The paramedics gently placed Maz on the gurney just as two policemen arrived. One paramedic suggested they get some answers from me while Jenny went with them to look after Maz.

The paramedic carried on. “They called in that an old woman was choking. It looks to me like there are a couple of broken ribs, but she’s breathing. There’s no sign of any obstruction in her throat. Suspicious I’d say.”

“I think I may have knocked it out when I dropped her,” I argued.

One policeman, the one who showed signs of enjoying huge breakfasts, took out his notebook. Before turning his attention to me.

There was another knock at the door. It was Albie from Artburn.

“Hello, Harry. The boy brought the wrong order. I hope it hasn’t ruined your afternoon,” he said as Maz was carried passed him. “I’ve brought you what you ordered, without chili peppers,” he said.

“Albie,” I said. “Have you ever thought about taking up flying?”

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