Lavender | Wakatoshi Ushijima

35 | I Hope

Her face twists with disgust. Her eyebrows furrow and her face scrunches like there's an awful stench in the air. She points and puts in all her might to express her shame.

It doesn't feel like she's looking at her daughter. Not one bit. Her eyes are burning with fury and hatred. I want to scream until that expression disintegrates, because it's not fair. The way her face is red and her eyes want to get rid of me is an expression I'll never forget.

It doesn't feel like she's looking at me. I want to snap her out of this moment and remind her I'm the little seven-year-old daughter that brought her an award. The girl that had galaxies of stars in her eyes, wanting to hear her say, 'I'm proud of you.' 

Don't you know me at all? It's me, Mother. It's me. It feels like she's looking at a piece of filth. And she is. She's looking straight at me. Yet still, I'm confused.

I never knew my Mother had such feelings of repulsion for the child she birthed. The child she carried in her womb and nurtured with the food she ate. The child she raised, kissed, bathed, clothed, and loved so tenderly. Who knew my Mother had it in her to say these things?

It doesn't feel like I'm her daughter. I think she let go of me somewhere along the way.

Is that how she sees me and thinks of me? Am I that horrid?

She continues to shame me. I can't hear anything. All I can see is her expression. My armor is destroyed. I'm not a shell anymore.

She lets go of her grip on me. I feel her hot breath in strong exhales, and soon enough, there'll be a flame coming out to burn me. My hair covers my face and its sides, and I'm glad it is, it's hiding the shame I feel. I've ruined my family, I've ruined their name, I've ashamed everyone. My father is sitting, staring at the floor. I feel he's ashamed, but a part of me is hoping he didn't hear anything, somehow.

I can't move, I can't breathe. Frankly, I don't want to do both. I don't dare do both until she excuses me in the most repulsed tone. 

I know she wants to keep going. I know she wants to keep screaming and shaming me until I fall to the floor and beg her for forgiveness at her feet. 

Each step I take after that is like walking on nails with the weight of an elephant. It's torture. I walk past my sitting father and tuck my fingers under the sleeves of my hoodie. The last thing she needs to see is my red fingertips. I don't explain or tell them about the ongoing spins in my head and the physical pain I've felt these past weeks. They don't need to know and I don't dare burden them. They have enough on their shoulders. Papers, documents, and meetings. 

I know that seeing their daughter betray their trust and waste her future hurts them enough, so I should suck it up and stay silent. I'm about to go up the stairs with the words disgust and shame written in my vision, when she says something I've been fearing she'll say for the past eighteen years of my existence. The past eighteen years of my hard work and academic excellence.

That little thought of mine, that held on to the hope that she loved me, perishes. It's dragged, burned, and buried somewhere so deep in my heart that her words won't ever find it. She says, "I've never been more disappointed I have to call this filthy liar I raised my daughter. You won't ever be worth that title, or this family's name either. Don't think for a second you'll ever be sufficient."

Disappointed. Disappointed. Disappointed. Disappointed. Disappointed. Disappointed.

I hear a sharp ring in my ears, a bell in my head, and a laugh in my chest. I freeze in my tracks and look at her for the first time since she started yelling. The tears flood my eyes, my fingertips burn once more, and I don't do anything about it. 

Betrayal. You were supposed to be proud of me.

I deserve to feel pain. I deserve to feel shame. I'm a disappointment. I'm a disgrace. I've shamed the noble Takahashi family. I've been irresponsible with my future. I will be a bigger disappointment when I become an adult. I'll achieve nothing, because I am nothing. I've wasted the life they've given me.