Home On Time
Ironically the day had been going really well up until this point. School had been uncharacteristically fun today and the driver was actually on time for a change when he came to pick me up. I smiled to myself as i held firmly to my math folder which held the first A i had recieved on a test in the hated subject for the last two years. As if that was not reason enough to celebrate, Enrique had actually spoken to me today and i was prancing around in seventh heaven. I could not wait to get home and call Tabia and gloat over things actually going my way for a change. I should have known better. Thing were going a little too well all at once. It should have been a premonition that something bad was going to happen, but i was too far in my fantasy world to notice.
I walked in the house as usual, slamming the door behind me. The moment i stepped through the threshold, something felt different. I was frozen in time for a plit second, half knowing that something was amiss, but it was only for a split second. I walked into the kitchen as usual, and there was Teresa making dinner.
"Change your clothes," she said without even looking up. We constantly had a battle over getting me out of my school uniform before i got it dirty, and as always i pretended she was a figment of my imagination and went on to the fridge and got a soda and a piece of cake.
" It will ruin your dinner Claudia," we both said simultaneously, with me rolling my eyes dramatically. With my book bag still hung over one shoulder, i walked to the family room to find my obnoxious little brother catapulting himself from sofa to sofa while my baby sister sat her plump frame three inches from the television screen with a mass of melted chocolate on a apertowel between her tiny legs, mesmerised by some inane predicament the Rugrats had gotten themselves into. Her little face broke into a huge grin when she saw me walk in and she raised both hands and cluthced at me with her sticky fingers screaming "Puppy," her pet name for me. I crouched down long enough to kiss her chubby cheek and avoid her grubby fingers. I was in such a good mood that i reached over and patted my brother's head, to which he recoiled in horror.
"Relax, i was only going to pet you, you little rodent." His expression became one of defiance and he fixed his hair, stuck out his bottom lip and gave me the evil eye before he resumed his campaign against leather furniture. I walked down the hall to the stairs and bounded up, two steps at a time, to my room. I threw my bag on my bed, kicked off my shoes, switched on my CD player to blast Janet Jackson's latest, closed the door and plopped onto my bed. I was staring up at the poster of Will Smith and daydreaming when i suddenly remembered Enrique. I swtiched off the music and grabbed the phone in my room, ready to hit the speed dial button and fill my best friend in on my amazing luck. Before i could press the button though, i heard voices and put the receiver to my ear to see who was on the phone.
"So they all knew and were sitting there laughing at me. Everytime i went to that damn office, they all knew!" The agonized voice sounded vaguely familiar but i could not quite place it. I knew better than to listen in on a private conversation but there was something about that voice that held me transixed. I recognized the second voice as belonging to my Aunt J.
"Suze, how could they have told you? How do you tell someone something like that?" I knew that my Aunt J called my mom Suze for short but i could not believe that the wounded voice i had heard earlier belonged to my strong, assertive, happy mom, I listened in for a few more minutes until my mother broke down and began to cry. I had seen my mother cry only once before in my thirteen years of existance and that had been over a death in the family. But this wasn't a death, i had picked that much up. I did not know why she was crying but i did know that it made me very uncomfortable. I could not listen to it so i put the phone down, forgetting to lay it softly in it's cradle so they would not know i was listening in. Immediately i was scared. I knew they must have heard it and now mom was going to come into my room. I did not want to see her. I could not face her right now, not the way she was. I knew something bad had happened but i also knew i did not want to know. I did not want anything ruining my day, not now. Please.
I turned my music on even louder and lay down on my bed pretending to be asleep and trying to block everything out. After the third song ended, there was a knock on my door. I ignored it but she came in anyway. My heart began beating really fast and i felt smothered. She closed the door and i opened my eyes and sat up. She didn't have to speak, and neither did i. We both knew that i knew that something had happened that woudl affect me as much as it did her.
"Claude we have to talk." And she did. She told me why she was home earlier than usual. She told me why her eyes were swollen and red. She told me how alone she felt, how she was so angry. And then she began crying. Her tears weren't tears of loss as one would shed when a loved one died. They were not tears of superficial pain shed when one's fingers got smashed in the door. They were not the tears of fear like those i had shed when i was being wheeled into surgery last year. Young as I was, I recognized that these were tears of anguish and disillusionment. These were the tears of someone who had hit rock bottom. Someone whose world was not only violently turned upside down but also wrenched inside out. No, not just someone, but a woman. These were the tears of a woman's pain. The fact that my mother, my happy mother whose sole purpose it seemed was making everything ok, was shedding these tears caused something to snap inside me. I was torn between two people i loved more than life itself, to whom my loyalty was equal and complete. Yet, sitting there on my Lion King duvet with my mother looking so defeated and broken changed something within me. It was at that moment that i can truly say i felt i became a woman. It had nothing to do with physical changes, nor did it have to do with mentality. It was the connection to my mother's pain that transformed me into a thriteen year old woman. I identified with her hurt, her confusion and her fear. I felt what she felt. Her tears had cut deep within me and somewhere the floodgates had splashed open and given birth to that indescribable capacity of a woman to feel pain in its most extreme, and still survive it.
I wrapped my arms around my mother's shaking frame and held on tight. I was afraid, so very afraid of what would happen next. I was afraid for my mom and my tears told her that. She held onto me tight, with my head pressed against he violent heartbeat. She kissed my head and said she felt like i was her best friend in the world.
I would have never guessed that my perfect day could have become one of the worst in my life as i walked through the door that afternoon. Early for a change. Thoughts of Enrique had vanished and my math folder lay abandoned on the floor beside my bag. My CD player was still on and Janet was screaming the words, 'What about the times you lied to me? What about the times you said no one would want me? What about all the sh*t you done to me? What about that? What about that? What about the times you yelled at me? What about the times i cried, you wouldn't even hold me. What about those things? What about that? What about that?" The door was shut and we were both silent. I sat there in my mother's arms, feeling both like a lost child, and an enlightened woman and my heart bled for her. We sat there, listening to the venomous lyrics. And we cried.
I walked in the house as usual, slamming the door behind me. The moment i stepped through the threshold, something felt different. I was frozen in time for a plit second, half knowing that something was amiss, but it was only for a split second. I walked into the kitchen as usual, and there was Teresa making dinner.
"Change your clothes," she said without even looking up. We constantly had a battle over getting me out of my school uniform before i got it dirty, and as always i pretended she was a figment of my imagination and went on to the fridge and got a soda and a piece of cake.
" It will ruin your dinner Claudia," we both said simultaneously, with me rolling my eyes dramatically. With my book bag still hung over one shoulder, i walked to the family room to find my obnoxious little brother catapulting himself from sofa to sofa while my baby sister sat her plump frame three inches from the television screen with a mass of melted chocolate on a apertowel between her tiny legs, mesmerised by some inane predicament the Rugrats had gotten themselves into. Her little face broke into a huge grin when she saw me walk in and she raised both hands and cluthced at me with her sticky fingers screaming "Puppy," her pet name for me. I crouched down long enough to kiss her chubby cheek and avoid her grubby fingers. I was in such a good mood that i reached over and patted my brother's head, to which he recoiled in horror.
"Relax, i was only going to pet you, you little rodent." His expression became one of defiance and he fixed his hair, stuck out his bottom lip and gave me the evil eye before he resumed his campaign against leather furniture. I walked down the hall to the stairs and bounded up, two steps at a time, to my room. I threw my bag on my bed, kicked off my shoes, switched on my CD player to blast Janet Jackson's latest, closed the door and plopped onto my bed. I was staring up at the poster of Will Smith and daydreaming when i suddenly remembered Enrique. I swtiched off the music and grabbed the phone in my room, ready to hit the speed dial button and fill my best friend in on my amazing luck. Before i could press the button though, i heard voices and put the receiver to my ear to see who was on the phone.
"So they all knew and were sitting there laughing at me. Everytime i went to that damn office, they all knew!" The agonized voice sounded vaguely familiar but i could not quite place it. I knew better than to listen in on a private conversation but there was something about that voice that held me transixed. I recognized the second voice as belonging to my Aunt J.
"Suze, how could they have told you? How do you tell someone something like that?" I knew that my Aunt J called my mom Suze for short but i could not believe that the wounded voice i had heard earlier belonged to my strong, assertive, happy mom, I listened in for a few more minutes until my mother broke down and began to cry. I had seen my mother cry only once before in my thirteen years of existance and that had been over a death in the family. But this wasn't a death, i had picked that much up. I did not know why she was crying but i did know that it made me very uncomfortable. I could not listen to it so i put the phone down, forgetting to lay it softly in it's cradle so they would not know i was listening in. Immediately i was scared. I knew they must have heard it and now mom was going to come into my room. I did not want to see her. I could not face her right now, not the way she was. I knew something bad had happened but i also knew i did not want to know. I did not want anything ruining my day, not now. Please.
I turned my music on even louder and lay down on my bed pretending to be asleep and trying to block everything out. After the third song ended, there was a knock on my door. I ignored it but she came in anyway. My heart began beating really fast and i felt smothered. She closed the door and i opened my eyes and sat up. She didn't have to speak, and neither did i. We both knew that i knew that something had happened that woudl affect me as much as it did her.
"Claude we have to talk." And she did. She told me why she was home earlier than usual. She told me why her eyes were swollen and red. She told me how alone she felt, how she was so angry. And then she began crying. Her tears weren't tears of loss as one would shed when a loved one died. They were not tears of superficial pain shed when one's fingers got smashed in the door. They were not the tears of fear like those i had shed when i was being wheeled into surgery last year. Young as I was, I recognized that these were tears of anguish and disillusionment. These were the tears of someone who had hit rock bottom. Someone whose world was not only violently turned upside down but also wrenched inside out. No, not just someone, but a woman. These were the tears of a woman's pain. The fact that my mother, my happy mother whose sole purpose it seemed was making everything ok, was shedding these tears caused something to snap inside me. I was torn between two people i loved more than life itself, to whom my loyalty was equal and complete. Yet, sitting there on my Lion King duvet with my mother looking so defeated and broken changed something within me. It was at that moment that i can truly say i felt i became a woman. It had nothing to do with physical changes, nor did it have to do with mentality. It was the connection to my mother's pain that transformed me into a thriteen year old woman. I identified with her hurt, her confusion and her fear. I felt what she felt. Her tears had cut deep within me and somewhere the floodgates had splashed open and given birth to that indescribable capacity of a woman to feel pain in its most extreme, and still survive it.
I wrapped my arms around my mother's shaking frame and held on tight. I was afraid, so very afraid of what would happen next. I was afraid for my mom and my tears told her that. She held onto me tight, with my head pressed against he violent heartbeat. She kissed my head and said she felt like i was her best friend in the world.
I would have never guessed that my perfect day could have become one of the worst in my life as i walked through the door that afternoon. Early for a change. Thoughts of Enrique had vanished and my math folder lay abandoned on the floor beside my bag. My CD player was still on and Janet was screaming the words, 'What about the times you lied to me? What about the times you said no one would want me? What about all the sh*t you done to me? What about that? What about that? What about the times you yelled at me? What about the times i cried, you wouldn't even hold me. What about those things? What about that? What about that?" The door was shut and we were both silent. I sat there in my mother's arms, feeling both like a lost child, and an enlightened woman and my heart bled for her. We sat there, listening to the venomous lyrics. And we cried.
posted by Sam | 9:53 PM
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