Newborn

Chapter 57: Mothers Part 1

Anne Halton

         

The sound of knuckles gently tapping on the wood of my bedroom door shakes me from my groggy stupor.  For a moment, I had almost forgotten all of my pain.

“What can I make you for breakfast?” my mother asks peaking her head inside my childhood bedroom.

“I’m alright,” I say.  I’m used to going without a morning meal.

“Are you sure you don’t want some scrambled eggs?”

“Those sound good,” I say.  I should probably stay for breakfast.  Plus, some eggs sound satisfying.

“Is fifteen minutes good for you?” Mum asks.  She sounds worried.  I’ve never just stopped by in the middle of the night to sleep over before.

“Yeah,” I say and she closes the door.

It’s kind of funny, waking up in my parents’ house.  Everything is the same as I left it.  I have the same posters on the wall and my old clothes in the drawers.  It’s nice that they kept it this way, but it’s been a while since I thought about this place as home.  My home has been with Jess.  Now I don’t know where it is. 

All I can think about is that look she gave me and I feel dirty.  Not just dirty for what I did with Liam, dirty for what I am.  I’m a demon.  I’m a monster.  I’m the God of Destruction, and I’m starting to understand why I deserve that name.

Last night, once I had finished with Liam, I left him.  I ran for what must have been hours, just trying to get away from myself.

At some point, I started getting hungry.  I found a convenience store that was open all night.  I just walked in, completely naked, grabbed a box of energy bars and some juice and walked out.  The cashier didn’t say anything.  I don’t think he knew how to respond.

As I traveled in the shadows, consumed by the flames inside me, I wanted to go home, but I knew I couldn’t go back to Jess, so I came here, to my parents’.  It wasn’t hard to get in.  I know where they keep the spare key.

I changed into some old clothes and knocked on their bedroom door to ask if I could spend the night.  I knew I could, but I didn’t want to surprise them in the morning.  I think I almost gave my Dad a heart attack.

I get dressed and go downstairs.

My parents are waiting for me.  My Dad’s sitting at the kitchen table and my Mum’s cooking some eggs.

“Good morning,” Mum says.

“Ah, there she is.  The stranger in the night,” Dad says.  He thinks he’s funny.

“Sorry about that,” I say.  I don’t really know how to explain why I’m here.  I can’t say I couldn’t go home because I’m a demonic bitch who cheated on her girlfriend.  “There was a conference not so far from here.  The reception went really late, and I was too tired to head back downtown,” I say.  Sometimes it’s just easier to lie.

“This is still your home,” Mum says.  “You can always come here.”

“And it’s better you come here than take the buses late at night.  Did you hear about that guy with a gun last week?” Dad adds in.

As it happens, I was there with the guy with the gun.  I heard the shot and followed it to the bus.  One person was shot in the leg.  I managed to get the gun away from the shooter before anyone else was hurt.

“That’s not representative of the buses in the city,” I say.

“I’m just saying, I’m glad you came here,” Dad says.  “Plus it’s nice to see your face once in a while.”

“Although, next time, would you mind calling first?  I think your father almost had a heart attack.”

“I knew everything was alright as soon as I heard her voice.”

My mother comes over with a plate with eggs and toast on it.

“Thanks,” I say.  I kiss her on the cheek.  “It looks delicious.”

“See,” my Mum says.  “That’s how someone should act when you make a meal for them.”

“Well, of course she’s happy.  She comes here in the middle of the night and you make her whatever she wants.  Me, I get the cold cereal.”

“I ask you what you want.  You always say cereal.  Do you want me to make you eggs?”

“I can’t eat them,” Dad says.  “I’m trying to watch my cholesterol.”

“So what do you want me to do?”

“Make me twenty again.”

“At this point I would settle for forty.”

“You don’t look a day over thirty-five,” I chime in.

I swear they’ve been having the same conversation since I was twelve.  I eat my eggs and my parents talk some more.  They ask me a bunch of questions.  They ask how my dissertation is going and I lie and tell them it’s going well.  Eventually my Dad has to go to work.  He leaves.

As my Mum comes to clear the table, I see the scared skin on her arm.  It’s from the fire I started as a child.  I didn’t mean to, I just couldn’t control myself.  At least that is what I tell pretend, but it’s hard to convince myself that I mean well when I know how it good it feels to make things burn.

“Does it hurt?” I ask.

“What?” my Mum asks.

“The burns.”

“No, they’re just scars.”

It’s quiet for a moment.  “I’m sorry,” I say.

“Not this again.  The fire wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it was.  I don’t know how to explain it, but I know now, it was.”

“No,” she says, “it wasn’t.  I know you’re special, but it wasn’t your fault.”

“Special?” I ask.  Does she know something?

My mother goes into a drawer in the kitchen.  She takes out a stack of cut out newspaper articles.  They’re all about the Scarlet Lady.   “Why don’t you tell me?” she says.  “I bought you that scarf for Christmas.”

Seeing the articles in front of me, I break down, tears rolling down my face with reckless disregard for the image I want to maintain.  My Mum puts her arms around me. 

“Everything’s broken, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Everything will be alright,” she says.

I take her arms off of me and I look into her eyes.  “No,” I say, “it won’t.  I’m not special.  I’m a monster.”

My mother’s face gets very serious.  “You are my daughter.  You are good, and I love you.  I don’t know who’s telling you that you’re a monster, and I don’t care why they think that.  You’re special, and good.  You’re the girl I raised.  Don’t forget that.”

“You don’t understand,” I manage to say between tear filled gasps, “I’ve ruined everything.”

“Nothing is ever so broken that you can’t try to fix it.”

“What if it won’t do anything?” I ask.

“Then you’re young and you can make something new.  If you ever need a place to stay, you will always have a home right here.”

Moving into my parents’ house isn’t exactly something I want to do, but I can’t go back to Jess.

“Thank you,” I say to my Mum.  I kiss her on the cheek. 

“I love you, and I will always here if you need to talk.”

Talk, it’s what me and Jess should have been doing this whole time.  “I love you too,” I say.