Possession (Editing)

Second Epilogue

The sunlight coming in through the window is what woke me out of my sleep. Usually the sound of my children or my husband stirring out of bed would wake me up so I was slightly curious what the four were up to.

I stretched my legs and on mornings like these, I see the ways I grow older. After my first child, my back and hands seemed to have a mind of their own; cracking and tightening up at the worst possible times.
Still wearing Eli's shirt from the night before, I put back on the shorts he so carelessly tossed in one of our midnight sessions.

Still as I walked through the house, there was silence. I quickly racked my brain for the date and realized it wasn't my birthday so they couldn't have been trying to surprise me and if they had left out, Eli would have notified me on a note on his pillow like he usually does.
I checked Gabby's and my youngest 4 year old daughter room, Leà and found it empty. I frowned and proceeded to Evans and it too had no children running amuck.
The kitchen, living room and dining room. Nothing. Nobody.
My heart began to race and I half ran to the front door.
All of the cars were still here.
I grabbed the phone and began dialing Elliot's number, biting the inside of my cheek (a bad habit I kicked before having Evan) as I patiently waited for him to answer.
Nothing. I called three more times before calling Amy.
Nothing.
Javier.
Nothing.
Just as I was going to call Elliot's mother, I turned around to sit on the couch, brace myself almost and there I saw my mother.
Not my mother in love who I lost at age 27. But the woman who birthed me and committed suicide. The mother I never got to meet.
I froze, naturally. Her face was young, curved and tanned. Her hair was shorter than the pictures I've seen. Not in the long brown layers but collar bone length, almost a bob.
Her eyes, oh her eyes, a chestnut color that radiated as if the sun was shining upon her.
I didn't say anything. I was confused and shocked and emotionally overcharged.
"Rayleen." It's when she said my name at that moment, I realized this had to be real. I've heard this tone, that voice. Once probably as infant and my mind locked into that sound forever- never to hear again until now.

Did I call her mommy? Mother? Mama?
"Mama... mama." It didn't sound like my voice but it was and it was cracking. I dropped to my knees in front of her and that's when she stretched out her hands to grab my arms and stand me back up. Then she stood as well and smiled at me.
She cradled the back of my head and allowed me to fall into her embrace in which I cried. I sobbed like it was the first cry in over 30 years.
My children and their whereabouts still flooded my brain but the safety of them was a given. I felt it. Just like I felt this hug.
"How are you here? Why?" I was finally able to gasp and she only pulled away to hold my face in her hands.
"To see you, of course." Her tone was so easy going that it made me smile. I felt the warmth of her- the sun I felt- was her.

"Sit down next to mama," she said in a cheerful tone and I brought myself to sit on the couch. But still, she held my hand. I didn't want to lose any contact. I didn't know how long this moment would last.

"You're doing your damn thing Rayleen." She said after some time. I couldn't help but stare at her. She was everything I imagined and yet different. I noticed a mole by her ear that a photograph could not capture. A mole that my youngest daughter shares with her.
"You're married to a worthy man who cherishes you. You have 3 beautiful....such beautiful children. A friend you trust. In addition to that, you have reunited with your father." She wiped my nose again and it felt so odd being a grown woman, having the snot being wiped off my face as I do to my own children.
That's when I remember that I too had a mother, and I too am a child.

"You run your own business and follow your heart. And yet..." her voice trailed off and the fear of disappointment began to set in.
Had I not been doing the right things?
"Why do you still seem so unhappy?" She finally adds.
The question puzzled me because I never had a moment where I felt that I was unhappy with my life since I got married.
"You have put your life and love into your family and career which is a very positive and just way to live. However, you can be happy with your life but not satisfied with the things it took for you to get there." My eyes widened the entire time she was talking. Still feeling such mixed emotions about this whole ordeal, it made sense... she came to talk to me.
"Things happen but it's how I deal with them that I think that matters." I said it like it was rehearsed, in a tiresome tone.
"My sweet daughter, I do believe that.. but... what else? That's a positive answer but is it a solution? You deal with the issue but what about the effect it had on you? The things you've been through... that I wasn't there for..." her voice trailed off again and her eyes for the first time, filled with hot tears and she let them run down her face. She didn't fight the funk or the feeling. Her voice trailed off but it didn't shake or waver.
The images of the men in my room. The hands on me... staring at the ceiling and wanting to come out of my skin and my body. Wanting to be anyone but me, be anywhere but there.
Then my father who abused me.. the words he would speak...the broken trust.. selling his daughters innocence for sport.
Then André and the vivid bloody rape I had to once again endure...
Everything. The memories were so clear that I could hear and see the younger version of myself going through it again and again. Night after night. The eating disorders, the self destructive tendencies all of it.