MOTHER: A Novel, Page 4

  “Listen Jane, you should have told me about the party sooner, I already planned a nice party and sent out the invitations and that’s that,” Emma said and turned away from Jane.

  It took all of Jane’s willpower not to slap Emma. She lunged forward and reached out to Emma to stop her from walking away. She grabbed on to the back of Emma’s dress as Emma forcibly pulled away. The sound of stitches ripping open seemed amplified by the dead silence in the room. Fearing that her new, expensive dress was irreparably damaged, Emma abruptly tuned to face Jane. She shoved her back violently then slapped her mother across the face.

  Jane stood frozen, unable and unwilling to comprehend what had just happened. Her cheek stung, but the only pain that concerned her was the anguish in her heart knowing that she had truly lost her daughter for good. Emma just stared at Jane with intense hatred in her eyes. She showed no fear of Jane, no respect. When it was clear that Jane would not say or do anything to her, Emma turned and walked toward her bed on the other side of the room. She looked at Jane with utter abhorrence.

  “I hope you’re happy for ruining my dress, just like you ruin everything. Get the hell out of my room—I HATE YOU!” Emma yelled and threw herself on her bed, sobbing loudly.

  Jane’s motherly instinct told her that she should go over to Emma and console her. She should tell Emma that the dress could be easily re-stitched. She should assure Emma that everything will be fine. But Jane knew better. Nothing would ever be fine between them again.

  In sorrowful resignation, she slowly turned and left Emma’s room, closing the door behind her. She walked to her bedroom, straight to her bed and, just as Emma had done, threw herself on her bed and sobbed. She sobbed herself to sleep, not caring about the plates of cold food left on the table—wasted—all the money that she had spent on Emma’s party—wasted—all the time and energy she used in preparing for Emma’s party—wasted. None of that mattered to her now. Instead, she drifted off to thoughts of Emma as a little girl and the days when she loved and needed her.

  ~3~

  Jane awoke at 5:43 a.m. even though it was Saturday morning. She could not sleep any longer. The events of the previous night were still fresh in her mind and she felt sick to her stomach with grief. She had no desire to leave her bed at all. She was lying across her bed, staring up at the ceiling, reliving memories of Emma’s childhood.

  In her mind, Emma was a toddler. Jane was pushing her on a swing and Emma laughed in delight with her chubby cheeks so rosy, her hair flying in the wind. Her sweet little voice begged for more, “high mama, go high.” Jane could see herself in her mind walking to the front of the swing and tickling Emma’s tummy as she rocked forward. Her laughter was music to Jane’s ears. Jane waited for the swing to stop before gently lifting Emma up. She hugged her closely before putting her down next to her. She held her hand as they walked toward the field where a picnic basket on a large blanket waited for them. They ate sandwiches, munched on apple slices and then napped lazily on the blanket, snug in each others’ arms.

  Emma was five and nervous about the first day of school. She had been anxious all the way up until they arrived at the school building. She looked like a little doll in her plaid jumper dress and patent leather shoes. She had two perfect ponytails with shiny red ribbons tied in perfect bows. She clutched her little school bag closely as her grip on Jane’s hand tightened.

  “Mama, what if the teacher doesn’t like me?” she asked nervously.

  Jane smiled warmly and crouched down to look straight into Emma’s eyes.

  “Em, your teacher and all the kids in your class are going to love you. You’re going to have a wonderful day, I promise you,” she said and kissed Emma softly on her cheek.

  Emma’s eyes were wide and Jane knew that she was afraid, but she courageously let go of Jane’s hand.

  “I know, Mama, it’s going to be lots of fun,” she said, and kissed her mom quickly before joining her classmates on the line. Jane stood and watched as the teacher took the students into the building. Emma’s eyes were on Jane the whole time, and she smiled and waved to her mother until she could no longer see her. Emma had been brave and didn’t shed a single tear. Jane, on the other hand, fell apart the moment Emma was out of sight. She cried all the way home that day and stayed in bed until it was time to pick Emma up.

  When they got home, they baked chocolate chip cookies together while Emma chatted on excitedly about her day.

  Emma was seven and came from school upset because a boy kept calling her “teacher’s pet.” Jane told Emma that he was only teasing her because he liked her. Emma looked up at Jane, puzzled. Her deep blue eyes and lightly freckled face made Jane smile.

  “Why would he be mean if he likes me, Mama? That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Boys are like that, Em, they’re pretty silly. Don’t let it bother you. If you just ignore him, he’ll get tired and stop.”

  “You’re the smartest mommy in the world,” Emma said, and hugged Jane tightly.

  “And you’re the smartest, prettiest daughter in the whole world,” Jane replied, wishing she could shield Emma from every harsh word, every dirty look, every broken heart.

  Emma was nine. She had the starring role as Dorothy in her school’s production of “The Wizard of Oz.” Jane had volunteered to help out as “stage mother.” Emma was starting to feel nervous just before the show started. She said her stomach hurt.

  “You just have butterflies in your tummy,” Jane said, confident that Emma would be fine.

  “Really, Mom? Butterflies?” Emma asked, doubtingly. “How’d they get in there then?”

  Jane laughed at the imagery Emma’s literal meaning of the phrase evoked.

  “It’s just a figure of speech, silly, there aren’t real butterflies in there. It just means that you’re nervous. You know all of your lines, you’re going to do a great job,” Jane assured her.

  “But what if I forget something?” she asked quietly.

  “Did you ever forget your lines during a rehearsal?”

  “No,” Emma answered, shaking her head.

  “Then you won’t forget any lines tonight either. You have to be confident,” Jane said.

  Emma nodded. The show was a huge success and everyone performed brilliantly, for fourth graders, at least. After the show, Emma, Jane and Gregory all went out for an ice cream celebration.

  It was one of Jane’s fondest memories of the three of them together.

  Emma was eleven and graduating from elementary school. Jane had the day off, but Gregory was unable to take time off from work. Jane bought Emma the prettiest dress and Emma felt like a princess in it. Before they had even left the house, Jane used an entire roll of film taking pictures of her and had to reload her camera. She had also purchased a pretty corsage made of pink and white carnations for Emma to wear on her wrist. Jane could still almost smell the sweet, light fragrance from the delicate flowers.

  As they were leaving the house, a neighbor commented on how beautiful Emma looked. Jane asked her if she would mind taking a picture of the two of them together. It was a lovely picture of Emma and Jane. Jane still had it in a pretty frame on her bureau. Jane glanced over at it, tearfully, for just a brief moment before returning her thoughts to the sanctuary of the past.

  Emma had just turned twelve and was taking a cooking class at the middle school. She enjoyed it so much that she had asked Jane if she could cook dinner one night. Jane took Emma to the market to get all of the ingredients. On the way home, they stopped off at a department store and purchased matching aprons. They put on their aprons, washed their hands and Emma prepared the meal, with little help from her assistant, Jane. She even set the table using their fine china. Dinner was delicious and even Jane, who usually ate small portions, took seconds. From then on—at least until she turned fourteen—Emma often helped Jane prepare the meals, and sometimes cooked dinner on her own.

  Cherished moments from Emma’s childhood flashed within Jane’s mind as she lay in b
ed. She replayed the joyful scenes in her mind: bicycling through the park trails; playing tennis at the country club; relaxing at the beaches; singing karaoke at the beach club; playing miniature golf; enjoying day trips; vacationing at fun spots in Maine, Disneyworld, Myrtle Beach, Virginia, Cancun, the Bahamas and Montreal.

  Even everyday moments like watching television together, eating

  meals together and playing board games seemed so special now. Jane wondered if she had taken those simple pleasures for granted. She thought of a time when Emma was about ten years old and wanted to play a game of Scrabble with her, but she was too busy at the time. What she would give now to have that opportunity again.

  How did things get so bad? How did she ruin everything, she wondered sadly. She searched her mind for the moment when things turned sour. Emma had always been a good, well-behaved, respectful girl until she was about thirteen or so. But that was typical, right? Teen-aged girls go through a lot of physical and emotional changes—they all acquire bad attitudes, right? Sure, Emma had her little outbursts and snapped back a bit, but she wasn’t all that bad. She was never downright rude and disrespectful until...until....

  Jane focused on Emma’s teenaged years. Like pages flipping in her mind, she sorted out the times when Emma was a good, sweet girl from the times when Emma became cruel and uncaring. The answer came to her quickly. Emma’s insolence started around the time Gregory was having his affair and worsened when Gregory abandoned them. She had blamed Jane outright for Gregory’s departure. A tear rolled down Jane’s cheek as she remembered Emma’s hurtful words calling her a fat, disgusting pig and accusing her of screwing things up. It all made sense now.

  As Jane tried to give Emma space and time to adjust to all of the changes, Emma’s hatred festered. Jane always believed that Emma would come around on her own—that she would realize the folly of her ways as she matured. She thought Emma would return to the sweet pre-teen girl she had been and those miserable times would become distant memories, not worth thinking about. Little did she know, until today, that she had been completely wrong. The sweet and innocent Emma was the distant memory now, replaced by the petulant, hostile Emma and it was clear that she was here to stay.

  This realization was too much for Jane to bear. At least before she had some hope to cling to, now all hope was lost. Emma hated her, period. There was nothing she could say or do to change that, no amount of money she could spend, no fancy party to transform her. Her daughter hated her. All of the sweet memories Jane had spent her morning hours dreaming about were tarnished by the bleak image that now burned like fire in her mind. All she could see now

  was Emma’s anger and disgust—her eyes devoid of all love, empty of all feelings but hatred. She could still hear her screaming “I HATE YOU!” It was the absolute truth and she knew it now. They weren’t just words spoken out of anger, as she had often rationalized Emma’s hurtful outbursts. It was the venomous expression of Emma’s contempt and loathing toward her.

  Jane felt numb. Even her grief had left her. She had no idea what to do. Should she just start ignoring Emma? Should she just pretend nothing ever happened and go about living the way she had been before last night’s fiasco? Should she try once more to talk to Emma, to reason with her? Maybe if she told her about Sue, maybe then Emma wouldn’t blame her for Gregory leaving them. A thousand fragmented thoughts and concerns haunted Jane’s mind, leaving her dizzy. It was almost 11:00 a.m. now and she hadn’t gotten out of bed at all, nor did she have any intention of doing so any time soon.

  Jane was adjusting her pillow on the bed when her bedroom door flew open with a loud bang as it hit her bedroom wall. Jane jumped, startled by the noise and unexpected entrance. Emma entered the room cradling her dress in her arms.

  “It’s going to cost you $85.00 to fix this dress,” she shouted furiously.

  Jane said nothing, still in shock, still in mourning.

  “Hello? Anything in that fat head? Can you hear me? You have to fix my dress, you broke it,” she said maliciously.

  Jane ignored her. It was as though she were frozen in place, as if she were just an observer watching someone else’s miserable life in a horror movie.

  Emma walked toward Jane, stomping angrily, putting her face just inches away from her mother’s own tear streaked face.

  “Listen Jane,” she yelled loudly, “you might have time to lie around eating bonbons all day but I’ve got things to do. You have to get this dress fixed before my party and you’re paying for it cause it’s your fault. Where’s your purse?”

  Jane looked deep into Emma’s eyes, searching desperately for any glimmer of love, finding nothing but the same vile hatred she had seen the night before.

  Emma sighed deeply, growing increasingly impatient. She started looking around the bedroom for Jane’s purse. Her anger

  intensified when she couldn’t find it. She hastily walked back to Jane and violently shook her.

  “Are you alive? Quit being such a bitch and give me the money!” she shouted.

  Jane sat up in bed so abruptly that even Emma was taken aback by her sudden movement. Emma had said awful things to her before but never before had she cursed at her. Now, in less than twenty-four hours, Emma had slapped her and was calling her a bitch. It was all too clear that Emma felt that she could say and do whatever she wanted without any consequence. Jane knew that it was her own fault for never really disciplining Emma from the onset of her transgressions, but enough was enough. How much more abuse could she take?

  “I’m mom, not Jane,” she yelled back, “and I’ll get your damn dress fixed, just leave it on the chair and get out of my room.”

  Emma was shocked. Her mother had never spoken that way to her before. For just a split second, Jane saw Emma’s face soften just a bit, as though maybe she had hurt her daughter’s feelings. She felt terrible for speaking so harshly to Emma. She was just about to apologize when Emma threw the dress on the nearby chair and yelled, “make sure it’s ready by Friday, Jane,” before storming out of the room.

  Jane felt like crying again but she was all out of tears and besides, she reasoned, what good would it do anyway? It would be better to just accept the fact that her daughter simply didn’t love or need her any more. She would just go to work, take care of the house and Emma’s basic needs and the two could coexist by ignoring one another. She could manage. After all, she had already lived through one betrayal. She and Gregory had coexisted relatively peacefully for almost a year and a half in a loveless, empty shell of a marriage. How different could it be with a resentful daughter?

  Jane’s mind wandered to Sue and thought about how old the baby would be now. She estimated that he or she would be about a year and a half now. Gregory had never contacted Jane at all since leaving the house. He never offered to help support Emma, let alone contribute to the household expenses. Jane had been left entirely on her own. Fortunately, the mortgage was nearly paid off and Gregory knew that Jane earned a decent salary. Still, it would have been good of him to at least offer. He never sent cards, failed to

  acknowledge Emma’s fifteenth birthday and didn’t even call on Christmas. It was as though Sue and the new baby had completely erased them from his memory. She wondered where they lived now. Were they happy? Did they have another child? It was odd to think that after all this time, they were still technically married. During the first several weeks after he had left, Jane expected to be served with divorce papers. She had dreaded the mere thought of being divorced from him, despite his infidelity and subsequent abandonment. She had experienced months of anxiety and depression. She had started feeling better until their sixteenth anniversary arrived and brought back the feelings of anger and betrayal all over again, albeit to a lesser extent.

  Now she had no feelings at all for Gregory. All of the hurt and anger she had once felt so strongly had faded entirely. She was strong enough, she persuaded herself. In time, the anguish she felt over Emma would subside as well. All the hurtful words and actions
would become a mere memory, perhaps forgotten altogether, she thought. She had survived losing a husband, she could survive losing her daughter, she concluded, making an effort to find some strength.

  Deep down, however, she knew it was not the same at all. She would always be there for Emma, do anything for her, give her anything she needed and most of what she wanted. She would love Emma forever—it didn’t matter that Emma hated her in return. She may not be mother to Emma, but Emma would always be daughter to her.

  ~4~

  True to her word, Jane took Emma’s dress to be repaired the following morning. She would have the dress back by Thursday and it would cost her $55.00. At this point, she didn’t even care about spending another $55.00 when she had already wasted over thirteen thousand. After dropping the dress off, Jane cancelled the party plans, hoping that she could get at least some of her money back. Of the $13,378.09 she had spent, she was able to recoup $5,280.00. It was not much, but it was more than she had expected.

  Later on that day, Jane pulled out a pretty small box from her top dresser drawer. She opened it and held up a beautiful gold bracelet. It was an expensive charm bracelet that she had custom-made for Emma’s birthday. She looked at the “daughter” charm that dangled delicately. It was truly a beautiful bracelet. The question was, what should she do with it? Should she still give it to Emma as planned? It was meant to be a special, cherished gift. Now it wouldn’t mean anything to her. Should she just hold on to it? One thing was certain, she could not take it back to the jewelers—it was a custom order—she was stuck with it. She gently placed it back into the box and hid the box in the back of her dresser drawer. As Emma’s birthday drew near, she would figure out what to do with it.

  Emma ignored Jane for the rest of the weekend. She either stayed in her room or went out with friends. Although Jane had prepared meals for the two of them, Emma was never home to eat. Jane figured that she had been eating out with her friends.