A Matter of Unimportance

3. It

The most unignorable thing was that with Daniel around, she finally had time to do things without me. That was jarring. I'm aware that even though I was a calm child, I found it hard. I hadn't really spent time away from her before. I literally went to work with her. The only time we were ever apart was when she sometimes dropped me at Whayas for short errands. I wasn't used to being left with someone like Daniel for several hours.

But she got her GED. She enrolled in classes at the community college and she started bringing home study books and reading me textbooks in better French than she'd ever spoke before. She started talking about what the future could look like if she continued to flourish like that.

Even though I sometimes cried and whined and stared at Daniel from across the room with an odd sense of contempt for a small child that was far too well acquainted with their father at that point to be acting so cold. She still accomplished all of that despite my attitude about it.

One thing I know for certain is that my mother understood. She knew I relied on her and on the time we spent together. That's why she kept taking me to work with her, even after Daniel offered to keep me when she was gone. She knew I needed things to not change dramatically, and she respected it. I spent just as much time backstage with dancers as I always had before.

Daniel stayed with us for three full years. I was 5 when things got rocky. There were several issues that I wasn't privy to, but they became clear with time, and as an adult I can reflect and understand them better.

My mother was ambitious in a very soft and self determined way. She didn't want to be bathed in riches, but she wanted to feel a sense that she could take care of herself (and me by extension). She worked hard at the club, she studied hard in school, and she made sure I was never innately aware that we lived with just barely enough to get by.

My father was different. He made jewelry and art for the markets, but he didn't care for money, even when it harmed him. He gambled what he didn't have, and he placed blame on societal factors instead of on things he could control. He never paid my mother any rent for his place in our bed.

My mother didn't want anything from him but love and companionship, but I know that she became aware over time that it wasn't exactly enough. She loved him so much it hurt, but when I hadn't warmed up to him even after three years, she couldn't ignore that it wasn't moving in the direction she yearned for. She was moving forward in life with me at her side and he was still staying on the sidelines in the same position she'd found him in.

Then I was old enough to start school and she asked me, "How would you feel about doing school at home, with me?"

And I remember distinctly as he cut in and said, "Why would you do that Florence? We finally have a free babysitter during the day. It would be so much easier to just send him to school."

I think that's when my mother realized they truly weren't on the same page. While she adored me and wanted me around endlessly, Daniel was there for her. He didn't hate me. He didn't resent me. He just didn't understand her endless and overpowering love for my presence. He didn't understand that when everyone in the world including him had left her out there alone, I had been there. I couldn't and wouldn't leave her. I'd changed everything just by existing, and he was fully oblivious to what my presence and love meant to her.

I pity him in a way. I pity everyone that wasn't raised by someone like Florence. Complete and unconditional love isn't something you understand unless you've had someone like her.

She wanted me around and he just didn't get it.

I wasn't old enough to understand why she looked at him like that, but I still said, "Could we still read about flowers with Aunt Whaya?"