Renata

Chapter 8

Serena

Change is inevitable.

With every tick of the clock, something different, something new happens. Which then sets motion to a chain of predetermined events.

In the 18 years of my life, ironically, change has been constant for me. Good or bad, every time things remained the same, it would change track. Nothing was constant except for change.

I had only met one person till now that I thought was immune to it. That no matter what, they were incapable of bringing out a better version of themselves. That they were incapable of change.

Catherine. My mother.

Everytime I talked to her, I believed it more and more. But I was wrong because suddenly, one day, I realized that people don't change. It's the circumstances, situations and everything around us that changes, but never us. All we do is grow. When things take a turn we adapt and we grow, sometimes to be better, some to be worse.

As John C. Maxwell said, 'Change is inevitable. Growth is optional'. It was true. My mother had many opportunities to grow. I had tried to help her time and time again. But she was so immersed in her self loathing and her hatred towards the world, that she got stuck in a loop of endless agony.

My mother sabotaged herself. If she had caught on to even one tiny branch of the countless I had held out to her over the years, she could have been saved.

Her circumstances changed, her surroundings changed, yet she couldn't find it in her to even try. Not for herself. Not for me. Not for anyone because she was a selfish woman.

Now as I stand in front of my mother's grave in London, the slightly cold February wind adding to the growing numbness, all I could feel for her was pity. Pity for what she lost. For what she missed out on.

Pity for who she could have been.

She was a knowledgeable woman. Most of the time. When she wasn't drunk or high, she had all the traits that was deemed to be smart. But she concentrated on her flaws more.

I wondered how my life would have been if she had seeked help or even accepted the help I lend her. She might have been a good mother and I would have loved her to the end of the world. But she wasn't a good mother and I still loved her. But not anymore, atleast not for the last 3 years. I still remember how the last thread of empathy I had for her shredded away into nothing.

How I had gone out of my way to ask her help for the first and last time, and how she showed me who she was, once again. How selfish she truly was.

3 years ago

I walk through the dimly lit hallway, until I reach the metal doors. The gaurd let's me in after the security clearance. The room I enter into has a chair and a phone in front of the huge see through glass wall. There is another set of chair and phone placed on the other side of the glass.

I take the seat and wait. A buzzer goes and she walks in with another gaurd. In a grey hoodie and white sweatpants, her black hair in a ponytail. As soon as she sees me, she puts on one of her rare smile on her face and quickly sit on her chair and bring the intercom to her ears. I trace my eyes on her features that seemed to have a lit more colour to it than when I last saw her when I was 11. I pick up the phone and place it near my ear too.