You Can't Break Her

Eight| My property

June 1994

I received a gold bracelet from my Mom's friend. It was my first real piece of jewellery - the first possession I had ever had, and I was completely enamoured by it. I was a grown-up in it, and I never wanted that feeling to go away.

Three days later...

"Ama, run a bath. Don't forget to take your bracelet off!" My mother called me from her bedroom.

"Okay," I lied. I snickered to myself as moments later; I bathed with my gorgeous chain on.

Two weeks later...

The metal began to luff off its gold-paint exterior, but it still sparkled far more than all the stars in the sky. This was my property, my belonging, a value I never gave anything before. This was mine.

Three weeks later...

Is your arm starting to blister, Ama?" My mother put down her coffee cup on the kitchen table, butting her cigarette in the ashtray. Walking over to where I sat in the living room just across from her. She snatched my arm into her hand, pulling it close to her face. She paid no attention to my groan from the pain of bending in ways one shouldn't.

She inspected my swollen, near festering wrist, slapping the back of my head so hard I choked on my saliva. "What the fuck did you do to this? My friend paid good money to get this for you."

"I don't ever want to take it off, mom," I admitted, my head lowered so I couldn't see the anger in her eyes that I felt drilling holes into my arm. It killed me that I couldn't be the perfect child she hoped to produce. No matter how much help I offered, my childishness always offended her.

She dug her fingers into the inflamed area surrounding the clasp. After a few gauging attempts, she sighed, letting go. "It won't come off." She cursed her way to the telephone across the room.

After dialling, a second of silence, then she answered, Hey, Darryl?" She fidgeted with the phone cord. "I have a problem."

I moved closer to a chair at the kitchen table, choosing to colour a cigarette pack. "What's wrong, Mom?"

She waved off my question without so much as a glance back. " I need you to get it off of her. She can't stay like this forever!" She slammed the phone down on the counter, beginning to pace the kitchen's tiled floor.

"Is something wrong, Mom?" I peeked up from my artistic attempts on her cigarette pack.

She glared at me, taking broad steps to my side.

I inched back in the seat, nearly toppling off. I covered as much of myself as I could with my arms. Tears queued in my eyes.

I uncovered to be face to face with my mother. Her brow furrowed. "How can you ask that? You have a bracelet growing into your arm, Ama!"

I covered my ears, shaking in my chair as my mother continued on her verbal assault.

"You're so stupid sometimes. You know that?" Lighting a cigarette, she took a long drag, holding it in for a moment. "You just never think."

A thundering double-knock on the door brought me back to a comfortable place, relaxing I was safe from punishment and her fury. Still, I knew I'd pay when no one was around.

I uncovered my ears, settling into the chair.

My mother answered the kitchen door that was mere feet from my seat. "Darryl, thank you so much for coming." She wrapped her arms around the large bearded man that stepped into the apartment.

"You didn't really give me a choice, Jess," he said as he returned the hug.

He noticed me and a smile lit up his face making his cheeks appear rosy. Messy shoulder-length salt and pepper hair and jagged teeth gave a scary twist to his appearance. "Amaris, you little troublemaker. Did you get stuck in your bracelet?"

"No." I cradled my arm with the other and stuck my tongue out at him.

He walked up to the table in two giant man steps. Next to me, he was a behemoth, a mountain of a person. "Yep, it's not going to budge without cutters of some sort."

I cried to hear my only possession would be destroyed because I hadn't taken it off in a month. My mother and her friend found a set of bolt cutters. My heart broke when the clink of metal on the table struck me. My beautiful piece of jewelry was now just a broken chain on the kitchen table.

My heart was broken. How could something go from being the most essential thing in a person's life to useless metal links in such a short time? Tears streaked my face as the adults around me lit cigarettes, and my mother offered him a beer.