The Issue with Lighting

Constance was still sitting in traffic. She had been in traffic for the last two hours and from the looks of it she would still be sitting in traffic two hours from now and this was not good for her plans. This was the night she had invited Phillip over to finally meet her mother. Constance gripped the steering wheel and pressed the speak button one more time.

“Call Phillip cell.”

She knew Phillip was at work and hardly ever answered his cell phone, during the day, and when it rang directly to voice mail she left a message.

“Hi, Phillip. This is Connie. I’m stuck in the traffic jam, in the middle of I40, nowhere near an exit, I’m afraid I’m going to be late getting to Mom’s house. Please call me back.” 

Two hours later.

“Hey, Phillip, it’s Connie again. I’m still in the traffic jam. Just cancel going to my mom’s house. You can meet her another time. “

While Connie was leaving the voice mail to Phillip, her phone beeped for call waiting. As Connie was trying to hang up using the steering wheel buttons, she managed to hang up on the call all together and it went straight to her voice mail.

“Connie, I’m headed over now, I’ll just meet you at your mom’s.  I’ve got flowers and I’ve got wine. See you soon.” 

Connie tried to call Phillip several times and he had either turned his phone off or didn't have it with him. 

 

Oh no, this wouldn’t end well; Not well at all. She immediately pressed the speak button again.

“Call Mom cell.” She stated.

“Calling Mom cell.” The electronic feminine voice chirped.

The phone rang and rang and after twenty rings, Constance pushed the disconnect button and she sat.  After sitting for another twenty minutes and realized she may never get out of this traffic jam she pressed the speak button again.

“Call Mom home.” She commanded.

“Calling Mom home.” The voice replied.

Again, the phone rang and rang, Constance was chewing on her bottom lip when the answering machine clicked on, “This is Mildred Dean, leave a message at the beep.” 

“Mom, pick up the phone! I know you hear me! Mom! MOM!  Oh my god mom, Phillip is going to be there in ten minutes. Please be nice, mom. MOM! Please be nice.” She begged into the phone and finally hung up.

Phillip bounded up the steps and rang the doorbell. He straightened his tie and transferred his weight from foot to foot waiting for Mildred to answer the door.

The door creaked open.

“Mrs. Dean? Hi, I’m Phillip Harris. I got a call from Connie that she will be a little late getting here; I hope you don’t mind me arriving alone.” He said questioningly.

“Of course not, come in dear. Constance said you’d be here before she could get out of the traffic jam. Please have a seat. It’s great to finally meet you.” She said as she directed him to a seating area made into the curve of a massive stair case.  Phillip handed her the wine and flowers before he sat down. 

“For you, ma’am.” He said.

“Thank you! These are lovely, let me put these into some water, here, have a drink while you wait.” She smiled and handed him a small glass of amber liquid, as she turned and walked from the room.

Phillip sat on the little divan and looked around as he sipped the drink. It was a curious space, it resembled some bohemian chic style with four, weird looking sconces used as lighting, which really made the small space seem very bright.  The creepy orange paint looked old and blotchy and Phillip blinked his eyes because it looked like it was waving in and out of focus. Phillip blinked his eyes and blinked again, his vision was becoming blurry and he thought it was because of all the different kinds of lighting hanging around the area and up the stairs. He looked down at the tear-drop shaped light, on the little round table, as an unfamiliar odor enveloped him. The room dimmed and started fading away and he felt his body turn cold. At that instant he realized he shouldn’t have been there at all.

Two hours later Connie rushed up the stairs and ran into the house.

“Mother?” she hollered. “Mother!” As she ran past the little seating area she stopped. “Oh Mother!! How could you? I asked you to be nice.” Connie said as she shook her head.

“I was nice, dear. I offered him a glass of sherry.” Mildred replied, as she lifted the feather duster to shine up her fifth sconce.