“I am nothing like you, but we are somehow still the same.” I state,
“You were a valedictorian; I’m barely passing my classes. You were a leader. I am the one who follows,” my voice starts shaking.
“You had a best friend you could tell everything to. I have no one. I am alone.” I pause, and a lone tear makes the long journey of traveling down my cheek. Her eyes glisten and I can see her hands curling in and out of fists. She bites her lips trying not to interrupt this time. Not again. I let out a breath and continue softly,
“You had everything, multiple boyfriends, many caring friends, good grades, everything. I can’t talk to anyone. You, my mother, make me feel like I can’t do anything right. You critique me on everything I do without batting an eye. Whenever I try to speak with you, you don’t let me finish one thought. I’m surprised that you even let me talk for so long. I try my hardest to please you, to do everything right but it never works out.”
I look at the old dusty wooden floor and sigh, scuffing my feet on the splintering planks of oak.
“Even though I make it seem as though your life is perfect you do have flaws. Conveniently, those flaws only show when no one else is around.”
I close my eyes and let the words flow from my mouth, tumbling out like something that has been bottled up for too long, “You don’t know how to control your anger. You yell at everyone even if the thing you’re angry about has nothing to do with them.”
I look into her hazel eyes that threaten to let tears flow, and say one last sentence with ice clinging to every word, “However, what scares me the most, what terrifies me into sleepless nights, is that I think I’m turning into you.”
She takes a sharp breath and mutters something under her breath shaking her head.
“What? If you’re going to say something you might as well say it to my face.” I say stiffly.
“I was just saying that you must be pinning that all on me.”
She lifts her head and smirks, starts laughing a small bitter laugh. I watch as her fists keep up the routine of clenching and unclenching. She noticed me staring and stuffs them into her pockets. I process what she’s saying and look hard into her eyes. Her eyes that sparkle one day and blaze as though they are on fire the next.
“Of course I pin this on you.” I say coldly, “Where else would I learn this? You have called me a pain in the neck, then the butt, then the ass. And that was after only the first few years of my life.”
“I don’t remember that.” She fumbles, shuffling her feet and swaying side to side.
“Do you want an example? Because I have one for you. After my brother’s birthday party, dad,” she cringes as I say the name, “asked what you thought of the party and you said that it was fun and you had a good time. I was so happy that you were in a good mood I went up with a huge smile on my face, full of hope. I told you how much I enjoyed the party and you told me that we kids were a pain in the ass. My face fell, along with my spirits. I know your brain must block all of those memories, or refuse to remember, but mine never forgot. Ever.”
She’s in a sure case of shock. Her mouth was open wide in the shape of an o. Her eyes are bugging out of her head, and the hands were taken out of the pockets and resume their old habit. Clench. Unclench. Clench. Unclench. Shake. Repeat. She closes her mouth and it forms a straight grim line. For once in her life she is speechless, has nothing to say.
I shake my head and look down at the uneven floor wondering why I’m even here. Why did I tell her everything? She would never understand she wouldn't be able to comprehend anything I’m telling her. Why do I even bother?
She runs a hand through her light reddish brown hair that has gray streaks running through it, leaving the other hand to continue business.
“Lizzie, I never meant to hurt you.”
“Ah, she speaks!” I joke without the light tone.
She looks at me wearily and I take notice of the lines wrinkling her once beautiful face and decide to cut the act. I take an exhausted breath and manage to say,
“I know you didn't mean too. That’s what makes it so difficult to do this. I know that you don’t mean it from experience. Like I said before, I've been doing this as well.”
She puts her fingers to her temples rubbing slowly and mouthing incoherent words. We don’t go to church so it’s weird to see her praying to a God when we've never learned about one.
“I need you to try and understand what I've been through, Lizzie.” She utters.
“Mom, please listen to me, I try too but you never give me enough time to think of what might have been wrong for you in your life. I’m usually too busy trying to protect my little brother and sister from your bad days.”
“I’m so sorry.”
This time it’s my turn to rub my temples trying to soothe the throbbing that had started halfway through the conversation. Those three words were why I came here in the first place, but they seem so insignificant now. I just need to hear three different words. Vowels and consonants I can’t remember hearing coming from her mouth ever. Directed to me anyway.
“Is there anything else to say?” I ask the woman who brought me into this life.
I watch as she searches my eyes for an answer. A lump has formed in my throat and I struggle to swallow. She tears her eyes away from me seeing I won’t give her a hint and looks around at the house we used to call a home. The paint is chipped and everything is covered in dust. Spider webs lay in every corner and I see little footprints from rodents and insects. The windows don’t hold any glass in their frames making them look barren, ugly.
She makes eye contact with me and slowly shakes her head, signaling her defeat. I sigh and nod before I walk away.
“Wait Lizzie,”
I stop at the doorway and glance back at her. She looks so vulnerable, just an old woman who messed up a lifetime ago. She reaches out her hand which shakes slightly and she says so softly I have to strain my ears to listen,
“Please don’t leave again, I-I love you.”
The tears I've been holding back finally break free and pour down my face. A small smile plays at my lips and I walk slowly back to her. A smile forms on her face knowing she picked the right words and she holds open her arms.
“I've never heard you say that to me, mom.”
“I know Liz, I know. I’m so sorry, I love you so much.” She’s crying openly now and holding onto me tightly never wanting to let me go.
“I want to forgive you but I can’t right now, not yet.”
“I know honey, I know.” She mumbles.
Ahhhh thts nice and sweet nd rele powerful! :) its rele good writing! keep it up :):):)
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