“Emma?” she called out as she reached the last step. Emma did not answer. She entered the kitchen and found Emma looking in the refrigerator.
“I didn’t expect you home so early,” Jane said.
“Don’t we have any more bottled water?” Emma asked, ignoring Jane’s comment.
“I guess I forgot to pick up another case,” Jane replied.
“I see you didn’t forget the donuts though,” Emma remarked callously.
“I’ll buy more tomorrow.”
“Don’t bother, I won’t be home,” Emma sneered.
“I know, you have your fancy party to attend.”
“No thanks to you.”
“Just remember I had a great party planned for you, you wanted me to cancel it.”
“I don’t need two parties.”
“You don’t even deserve one,” Jane added and was pleased to see the shock on Emma’s face. It was about time she stood up for herself.
“You’re just mad that you can’t come to my party,” Emma said, sounding incredibly childish.
“I’m not mad, I’m disappointed,” Jane replied honestly.
“Maybe if you weren’t a thousand pounds you’d be invited.”
“Is that all it’s about? I’m too fat to go to your party?”
“You’re fat and disgusting,” Emma said hurtfully.
“So only skinny people can go to your party?”
“Well Taryn’s chubby, but that has no effect on me,” she responded.
“So what effect does my weight have on you?” Jane asked.
“People will think I’ll get just as fat and gross as you are,” she said resentfully.
“So you’re just ashamed of me? I didn’t do anything to you personally, just my weight gain?” Jane asked, already knowing the answer. Emma was growing impatient. It was the longest conversation they’d had in days. She rolled her eyes.
“That’s enough don’t you think?” she asked petulantly.
“I think one day you may regret it,” Jane said sorrowfully.
“I doubt it.”
“I forgive you,” Jane said softly, turning to leave.
“I don’t really care,” Emma called out. Jane continued to walk upstairs. She wouldn’t let Emma bother her. She turned the water back on and filled up the tub, adding some bubble bath. She disrobed and stepped in. The warm water and bubbles felt amazing. She leaned back and closed her eyes. She thought about Emma as a child—the happy days that went by way too quickly. She didn’t think about how Emma felt about her now. She didn’t think about how ashamed Emma had become of her. For tonight, she was content to live in the past.
Saturday arrived like every other morning with the exception of Jane’s splitting headache and severe abdominal pain. It was barely eight in the morning. Jane pushed down on her stomach, trying to alleviate the pain. She knew it correlated with the anxiety she was feeling over Emma. If she could have gotten away with it, she would have stayed in bed all day. Instead, she got up slowly, wincing in pain, and walked carefully downstairs.
She thought about having her usual cup of coffee but decided against it. It would only exacerbate the pain. She was barely able to tolerate it as it was. She didn’t even feel hungry despite the fact that she ate nothing the night before. She poured herself a glass of milk and drank it slowly, hoping it would coat her stomach. The pain would not subside. She began to sweat. She could feel her heart racing in her chest.
She walked to the living room to lie down on the couch. She turned on her side, hoping and praying that the pain would just go away. Instead, it intensified. She felt a sharp pain that made her cry out and gasp. It felt worse than the pain she had experienced the other night. She tried to sit up, but couldn’t. She tried to curl up into a fetal position, but there wasn’t enough room on the couch to support her that way and she fell onto the floor with a loud thud. With all the pain she was already in, she didn’t even feel the fall. She tried to get up, but couldn’t. She quickly curled up into a fetal position, as much as her bulky stomach allowed, and cried quietly.
Between the physical pain and mental exhaustion, she welcomed the
oblivion that gently embraced her.
“What the hell?” she heard Emma scream out as her eyes slowly fluttered open. Jane could see Emma standing above her, looking down in disgust. Emma’s friend, Sarah, stood by her side, looking perplexed.
“Is she drunk?” Sarah whispered quietly to Emma, but Jane heard her nonetheless.
“No, she’s just fat and lazy,” Emma said scornfully. “Let’s just go back upstairs.”
“I thought we were getting lunch, I’m starving,” Sarah said.
“I’ve lost my appetite,” Emma said, glaring hatefully at Jane.
Jane propped herself up on her elbow and looked at the clock on the wall. It was just after twelve thirty.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t feel well. I think I passed out,” Jane said.
Sarah looked at Jane with genuine concern as Emma rolled her eyes and started to walk away.
“Oh my God, are you okay?” Sarah asked. Emma turned to look at Sarah.
“Come on, she’s just looking for attention, she’s fine,” Emma said, pausing to wait for her friend to catch up to her.
“But she—”
“She’s just trying to ruin my party because she’s not invited,” Emma shouted angrily. “She’s always pulling crap like this.”
Jane slowly got up, using the couch as support.
“I was in pain, Emma, worse than the other night,” Jane tried to explain. Emma walked further away as Sarah looked worriedly at Jane.
“Are you okay now, Mrs. Winston?” Sarah asked. Jane nodded, grateful that at least someone was concerned.
“Let’s go!” Emma yelled to Sarah. “Let’s just get our stuff and get out of here.”
Sarah looked at Jane with eyes full of pity, not knowing what she should do. When she heard Emma let out an exaggerated huff, she turned and followed her upstairs. A few minutes later, both girls returned downstairs.
“I’m so sorry, Sarah. I didn’t even hear you come in,” Jane said, embarrassed about what had happened. Before Sarah could answer,
Emma interjected.
“She spent the night here, genius,” she yelled.
Sarah looked at Emma in disbelief, then back to Jane, expecting her to discipline Emma. Jane just looked away, embarrassed.
The two girls left the house and started walking down the block in silence. As they crossed the street, Emma started complaining about how much of a slob her mother was.
“Aren’t you worried about her?” Sarah asked her in a serious tone.
“Are you kidding? She’s only faking it anyway. And if she’s not it’s only because she’s stuffing her face too much,” Emma said in disgust.
“I felt so sorry for her,” Sarah said softly.
“Gimme a break! She’s a lazy, fat pig. I wish she was sick. I wish she’d drop dead already.”
Sarah gasped as her mouth hung open. She stopped walking and faced Emma.
“You don’t really mean that,” she said, more as a statement than a question.
“Yes I do. I hate her. I wish she wasn’t my mother,” Emma said angrily.
The girls continued walking.
“If I spoke to my mother the way you speak to yours, she would kill me...or at least ground me forever,” Sarah said.
“She can’t tell me what to do anymore. She tries, I just ignore her,” Emma boasted proudly.
“You really didn’t invite her to your party?”
“Nope. I don’t want her ruining things for me.”
“How would she ruin things?”
“She would embarrass me. She’s disgusting,” Emma said, contorting her face.
“Is that why you won’t let Claire or Kerry come to your to house?”
Emma nodded.
“I won’t let anyone see her, except you, of course. You already know she’s a slob.”
&nb
sp; “I like your mom. She’s always so nice, Emma. You shouldn’t treat her so badly.”
“That’s easy for you to say, your mom is normal,” Emma said.
“Normal? I guess, she’s a typical mom,” Sarah replied.
“She’s not a thousand pounds,” Emma said under her breath.
“So what? What does that have to do with anything?”
“You don’t know what it’s like to have a fat, dumpy mom. It’s embarrassing.”
“Who cares?”
“I do,” Emma said emphatically, “and I’ll never be anything like her,” she vowed.
~7~
Emma returned home just minutes before five o’clock that evening. Jane was in the kitchen preparing some tuna salad for later.
“Yuck, it stinks in here,” Emma whined, as she passed by.
“It’s tuna fish. Would you like a sandwich?” Jane asked.
“No way,” Emma answered, as she continued on her way up to her room.
Jane had no idea what time the party started or how Emma planned to get there. She assumed that she would get a ride with one of her friends’ parents, as she had been doing for the past week. She mixed the mayonnaise into the bowl full of tuna fish as she tried not to think about the party.
She thought about calling Zachary and accepting his dinner invitation. She wasn’t sure if she felt up to hanging out with him and his wife. Maybe it would be best to spend a quiet night watching a movie as she had planned. She thought about renting a good, scary one.
She added some minced onion to the bowl and stirred until everything was well blended. She covered the bowl and placed it into the refrigerator for when she felt hungry.
She then walked to the living room, turned on the television and began watching an old sitcom. It was just the distraction she needed. She laughed at the dry humor. When it was over, she searched the channels for something else to keep her mind occupied. She didn’t find anything interesting and decided that it was a good time to run out and rent the video. As she reached for her car keys, the telephone rang.
“Hello?”
“Jane? Aren’t you supposed to be at my house?”
Jane smiled. It was Zachary.
“I said I’d try...I didn’t commit,” Jane said with a laugh.
“C’mon Jane, we’ve ordered Chinese food, and enough of it to feed a small army,” Zachary pleaded.
“Honestly, I’d feel a little out of place there,” Jane said.
“Nonsense! Colleen and I would love having you here,” Zachary said, and in the background Jane could hear Colleen insisting that she join them for dinner.
“Do you hear Colleen? She says she’s going to drive over there and get you if you don’t come over on your own,” Zachary joked.
Jane smiled.
“Alright,” she said, “I’ll stop by for a little while. What can I bring?”
“Just bring yourself, and hurry...the food will be here in about a half an hour,” Zachary said before hanging up.
Jane ran up to her bedroom quickly to change into a nicer pair of pants and a soft cotton blouse. She brushed her hair, put on a little lipstick and walked back downstairs. She grabbed her car keys and a bottle of wine that a coworker had given her last Christmas. She thought about telling Emma where she was going but left without saying anything to her. Why should she go out of her way? Emma wouldn’t extend the same courtesy to her.
On her way to Zachary’s house, she stopped off at the bakery and bought a cherry cheesecake. She was at Zachary’s house fifteen minutes later. The food had just arrived.
At Jane’s house, Emma had been calling out to Jane. She grew frustrated when, after hollering at her five times, Jane did not respond. Emma figured she was purposefully ignoring her since she was still calling her “Jane.” She walked downstairs and searched the kitchen, then the dining room and living room. She became anxious as she walked up to Jane’s bedroom. She was wearing her peach colored gown and cursed under her breath about having to walk up and down the stairs.
“Jane?” she called as she opened the bedroom door. Jane was not in her room, nor was she in the bathroom. She was not home at all. Emma began to panic. Her mother never left home without telling her where she was going. Not that Emma was the least bit concerned about Jane, but she needed a ride to Sierra Gardens. She looked at the alarm clock on her mother’s nightstand. It was already 6:33 and Emma needed to be there by 7:00.
She grabbed the phone in her mother’s room and quickly dialed her mother’s cell phone number. At Zachary’s house, Jane was
seated at the table when her cell phone began to ring. It was stuffed near the bottom of her purse, hanging from a rack in the foyer, and nobody heard it. Emma frantically tried calling Jane three more times before slamming the phone down violently onto the cradle. She didn’t know what to do. She had already told her friends that she didn’t need a ride since she wanted to arrive earlier. Here she was, running late as usual. She was sure her friends had all left for the party. Sierra Gardens was a half an hour away.
Without thinking, she called her father at his office. There was no answer. She didn’t have any other way to reach him. She didn’t have his cell phone number. She didn’t even know where he lived. He’d probably be on his way to the party anyway, she reasoned, as she hung up. She walked out of her mother’s room and back downstairs.
Emma sat at the dining room table as she fished for the cell phone in her purse. She dialed her mother’s number again. There was still no answer. As before, Emma hung up without leaving a message. She began to frantically call her friends, hoping that someone could give her a ride. Most of her friends had already left for the party and were near Sierra Gardens. A few of them were already there. Emma ran back up to her room and turned on her computer. She looked up the phone number for a local taxicab service. She dialed the number and requested a cab to take her to Sierra Gardens.
“About forty minutes,” the dispatcher said, after getting her address.
“It’ll take forty minutes to get there?” Emma asked naively.
“No, the cab will be there in forty minutes,” the dispatcher clarified.
Emma gasped in fear, feeling a wave of nausea hit her instantly.
“But I need a cab now,” she whined nervously.
“Sorry, it’s always busy on Saturday nights. You still want the cab?”
“Yes,” Emma sobbed, tears streaking down her face. Even if she left the house now, she would be late. Now she had to wait forty minutes just to get going. She was going to be very late for her own party. She cursed her mother and blamed her for making her late.
She did this on purpose, Emma thought furiously. “I’ll never forgive her for this,” she said to herself as she put her head down on her desk and wept like a wounded child. At that moment, she hated Jane with
every fiber of her being. She wished she would truly drop dead.
The cab pulled up to Jane’s driveway thirty-four minutes later. Emma was waiting at the curb in her pretty peach colored gown. Her eyes were puffy from crying. Her makeup was a mess. She climbed into the cab quickly and asked the driver to drive as fast as he could to Sierra Gardens. He explained that traffic was always heavy on Saturday nights, but seeing how upset Emma was, he promised to do his best. Emma was a bundle of nerves. During the trip, her friend Marcy called her cell phone.
“Where are you?” Marcy asked frantically, “everyone thinks you’re going to bail out on your own party.”
“My loser mother didn’t give me ride...I had to wait for a cab. I just left fifteen minutes ago,” Emma said explosively and she began to cry hysterically.
“Oh my God!” Marcy exclaimed. “That sucks! It’s already almost 7:40. It’ll be around 8:00 when you finally get here.”
“I don’t need you to tell me the obvious,” Emma snapped.
“Hey, it’s not my fault your mom abandoned you,” Marcy retorted.
“She’s not my mom, she’s dead to me,” Emma said venomou
sly. The cab driver looked at her in the rear-view mirror. She was sobbing again as she hung up on Marcy and put her cell phone back in her purse.
“I’m sure your mother didn’t mean to forget,” he said softly.
“What the hell do you know? You’re a loser just like she is,” Emma shouted.
The cab driver said nothing more. He could have gotten to Sierra Gardens within ten minutes but after that comment, he took his time and even went out of his way a bit. At 8:09, Emma finally arrived. She threw a twenty dollar bill at the driver to cover the $19.50 fare and quickly ran out of the car. The driver was glad she looked as bad as she did. He didn’t usually think badly about people, but he found himself hoping that Emma would trip and fall on her way in. When she made it safely inside the building, he drove off. He was ashamed of himself for making her even later and for thinking such terrible thoughts. Surely something awful must have happened to make such a young girl so bitter. Maybe her mother really was a loser. She certainly hadn’t done a good job teaching her daughter
manners.
Emma rushed to make her entrance without even stopping to check her appearance. She was livid. As she entered, she could hear full gasps and bursts of laughter. She was too angry to be embarrassed. Her friend Sarah walked up to her and led her to the bathroom.
“Oh my God!” she exclaimed.
“It’s all Jane’s fault!” Emma yelled, tears welling up in her eyes again.
“Who’s Jane?” Sarah asked, puzzled.
“That fat bitch who calls herself my mother,” Emma said angrily, struggling to hold back her tears. Sarah looked shocked. She knew
Emma didn’t get along with her mother but she had no idea how much she detested her.
“I’m sure she didn’t mean it,” Sarah said. “What time did you tell her you had to leave?”
“I didn’t tell her what time, but she knew my party was tonight,” Emma said as she fussed with her hair and dress in front of the mirror.
“You didn’t tell her what time? Did you tell her you needed a ride?”
“How else would I get here?” Emma yelled impatiently.
MOTHER: A Novel Page 7