MOTHER: A Novel

by Angel Gelique

  The secretary wondered how Emma would react. She had never met Emma and had only spoken to her a few times, but she had a feeling that Emma was one of those snotty kids who were used to getting their way. She could hear Emma sigh heavily.

  “Can you tell him to call me at home before 5:30?”

  “Sure, I’ll be sure to give him the message as soon as the meeting ends.”

  “Thank you,” Emma said and hung up. She sounded like a small child when she said it, not like the loud-mouth teenager she actually was.

  The secretary scribbled the message on a pad of paper. She knew Gregory would be tied up with his “meeting” for most, if not all, of the morning. She also knew that he and the new blonde associate he was “meeting” with were not discussing investments. Nonetheless, she would pass on the message as soon as he finally emerged from his important “meeting.”

  Unlike Gregory, Jane had actually been doing work in her office. She spent most of the morning drafting policies and mailing documents to policy holders. Her phone had been ringing all morning. When it rang again just before noon, Jane was expecting it to be a policy holder named Douglas Alden who was supposed to call her back with some information. To her surprise, it was Eric.

  “I know you probably never want to hear from me again...I really screwed up, didn’t I?” he asked anxiously.

  “Well…,” Jane replied dryly, not quite knowing what to say.

  “I’m sorry Jane, I got so overwhelmed once your daughter started mouthing off at me and accused me of being a child molester.”

  “What?!” Jane replied in disbelief.

  “I figured there was no way things could possibly work out with such obstacles, but....”

  “But what?”

  “I kept thinking about you. It wasn’t fair of me to just storm off like that. I should have taken you out to dinner instead of walking out on you like an idiot.” Eric said apologetically.

  “Who could blame you, really. You arrive at my house and get cursed out by my wicked witch of a daughter, then I show up late, all fat and smelly, a huge mess—”

  “Don’t say that, Jane,” Eric said softly, “that’s not why I left.”

  “It was a really rough night. I was stupid to suggest that you come over for dinner. I stopped off at the store for a few things and left my debit card behind, which I realized after I tried to buy some wine. Time was ticking and I panicked—I literally got sick in the liquor store. I drove back to the grocery store to get my card and it wasn’t there. I sat in traffic the whole way back, finally got home and you were already there. You looked mortified. I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

  “Not at all. Please let me make it up to you,” Eric begged.

  “I don’t know Eric, maybe things happen for a reason,” Jane said, reluctantly.

  “I can make it up to you...we’ll start fresh.”

  “I think I need to sort a few things out first, Eric. I’m sorry,” Jane said, hoping she was making the right decision and not just sacrificing her chance at happiness in vain.

  Eric grew quiet. Jane could tell that he was sincerely remorseful. She needed to break the awkward silence.

  “It doesn’t mean we can’t hang out once in a while at your brother’s bar,” she added.

  “I guess,” he mumbled. “I just hope you know how truly sorry I am. I think the child molester comment did it for me.”

  “Did she really call you a child molester? Why?”

  “She really did, after I asked her if it would be okay to come in and wait for you. I followed her into the living room and she flipped out. I should have just waited in my car as I was going to at first.”

  “Don’t take it personally, Eric. Maybe one day I’ll hire an exorcist and get my real Emma back,” Jane said jokingly.

  If only it were that easy. Eric chuckled.

  “I know, I guess I’m just not used to kids, especially teen-aged girls.”

  “And by the way, my home isn’t usually that messy—Emma took it upon herself to clean out my refrigerator and pantry. I guess she’s trying to help prevent me from gaining a thousand more pounds.”

  “Your house was fine, beautiful actually...except for the banana in the living room...that must be modern decor,” he teased.

  Jane grew embarrassed thinking about it again. She didn’t tell him that it was still there on the carpet, decaying. She didn’t look forward to cleaning it up. In a perfect world, that would be Emma’s responsibility, but Jane knew better than to even ask. She was back to walking on eggshells with Emma, for fear of retaliation. She didn’t want to come home from work and find more things broken or thrown away.

  “Thank you, yes, I guess Emma should cross interior designer off the list of possible careers,” Jane said, laughing quietly.

  There was another phone call and Jane had to put Eric on hold for a couple of minutes. She apologized when she returned to his call.

  “No problem, I know you’re at work. I would have called you last night, but since you still never gave me your house number....”

  “Oh, I’m sorry...I meant to. Grab a pen,” she said.

  Eric indicated that he was ready to write down her phone number and Jane told him the numbers slowly. He repeated it back to her for confirmation.

  “Now I can call and harass you to forgive me whether you’re at home or at work,” he joked.

  “I forgive you, let’s just forget it,” Jane suggested. It was one night she was surely willing to wipe clean from her mental slate.

  “Agreed,” he said, “but I really hope you’ll give me another chance sometime soon.”

  “I will, I promise. You know how crazy things are for me right now,” she explained.

  “Which is exactly why it would be perfect—I can help keep you sane.”

  “Or drive me further insane,” she said with a chuckle.

  Eric laughed. He loved her sense of humor.

  “Fair enough, Jane,” he said, “I won’t bug you...I’m the one always calling you. When you’re ready, you call me,” he said softly.

  “You never bug me,” Jane said.

  On the contrary, he always made her feel better...at least when he wasn’t walking out on her, but that only happened once and it was completely excusable, especially now that Jane had more insight as to why he had done so.

  “I promise I will call you soon, Eric, I won’t blow you off or keep you waiting too long,” she said solemnly.

  “I’m going to hold you to that promise,” he said warmly and Jane smiled. She hoped they could take things slowly. Maybe their friendship would blossom into something more.

  “Thanks for calling and for apologizing. I really appreciate it.”

  “And thanks for understanding. Have a great day at work, I’ll talk to you soon...I hope.”

  “You will,” Jane promised.

  She smiled as she hung up the phone. It was a nice surprise hearing from Eric. She had been extremely tempted to take him up on his offer and go out to dinner with him. Yet, after all that had happened, she thought it would be best to take things really slowly. All the nonsense Emma was putting her through was more than she could deal with. She didn’t need to chance a heartache on top of it.

  Jane glanced at the clock. It was already lunchtime. She thought excitedly, “wow, it’s already 12:40!”

  “It’s already 12:40,” Emma grumbled to herself, simultaneously, while sitting on the couch in front of the television. Gregory had not returned her phone call. She had impatiently waited all morning and now it was after noon. She gave up waiting and reached for the phone. In no time, the secretary had answered her call.

  “It’s Emma, didn’t you give my dad the message?” she asked abrasively.

  The secretary, Anna, was about to give Emma a piece of her mind, but held her tongue. After all, she was still just a child.

  “Actually, Emma, I did give your dad the message. He tried calling you but said he kept getting a recording about your phone being out of
service,” she replied patiently. She could hear Emma click her tongue in frustration.

  “He’s supposed to call me at home, not on my cell phone. Stupid

  Jane disconnected my cell phone,” she said belligerently.

  “I’ll let him know,” Anna said dryly. She was starting to really dislike Emma, irrespective of whatever difficulties she may be going through. There was no reason to be downright rude. She waited for a response or acknowledgement from Emma. Instead, she heard a click. Emma had just hung up on her again.

  Anna felt like disregarding the call and message entirely. Anyone else would have thought, “screw her, who cares if her dad ever calls her again?” But despite being thoroughly annoyed, Anna was a good-hearted, caring person. She reasoned that the young girl must be going through a difficult time. Besides, it was her job to relay messages. Once again, she scribbled a note to Gregory, this time informing him to call Emma at home. She would give him the message when he returned from lunch, with the blonde girl, of course.

  Hours dragged by and before Emma knew it, it was nearly time for Jane to return home from work. She cursed her father for ignoring her. All day she had waited for his call, drifting in and out of sleep in front of the television. She felt groggy and her body still ached. She didn’t bother to take a shower or even change out of the same nightshirt she had been wearing the day before.

  Since the nibbles of baby carrot she had eaten earlier in the morning, Emma hadn’t eaten a single thing. She still had the same glass of water, which was almost empty now. Emma turned off the television and stood up, feeling dizzy. It took all of her concentration to stabilize herself and keep from falling as she slowly walked upstairs, taking her glass of water with her.

  Emma wished she had the strength to do her sit ups. She hadn’t exercised in days and was feeling “fat.” Yet, in the condition that she was in, she knew better than to attempt even a single one. She felt like passing out. Her head hurt and she needed to rest. She drifted off with bitter thoughts, first of Gregory, then Jane. It was entirely her fault that she was getting so fat.

  ~16~

  Emma was asleep so soundly that she didn’t even hear Jane knocking on her bedroom door an hour later. Jane assumed Emma was still ignoring her. Her bedroom door was once again locked.

  “Well if you want dinner, let me know,” Jane said before walking away. She went into her bedroom to change out of her work clothes. She was thrilled to be home. The last hour at work had been dreadful. She spent the whole time exerting pressure on her abdomen, in a futile attempt to extinguish the fire within. She thought about going to the doctor, but didn’t have an appointment. It was too late now to call and make one. She planned to call her doctor’s office during work the following day. She hoped to get an appointment on Saturday since the office was open for a few hours in the afternoon.

  Jane’s pain, which had been relatively fleeting at first, had upgraded to constant agony. Even in the shower it didn’t seem to let up. It was starting to make her nervous. She wasn’t eating well or sleeping well. Her head hurt frequently and she felt weak and dizzy too often. By this hour, she was normally ravenous, yet today she had no appetite. She had forced herself to eat half of a turkey sandwich at lunchtime just so that she would have some food in her stomach when she took two acetaminophen tablets. She had no intention of eating dinner. If she was lucky, she’d shed some more pounds.

  Jane was tired, but it was too early to go to bed. Instead, she turned on the television in her bedroom and watched a rerun of one of her favorite television shows. One episode turned into two, then three, and before Jane knew it, it was nearly nine o’clock. She was starting to feel a little hungry. She walked down to the kitchen.

  It was obvious that Emma hadn’t eaten anything while at home. There were no dishes in the sink other than the one Jane had used for breakfast. Jane thought about how thin Emma had become and she began to worry about her. She didn’t know if Emma was buying

  lunch or eating meals at friend’s homes. In fact, it was unusual for Emma to be home so early in the evening. It seemed that lately Emma practically lived at her friends’ houses or the mall—anywhere but home. Jane hoped it didn’t have anything to do with the party. It would only add to Emma’s hatred toward her.

  Jane didn’t know if she should cook something for Emma and bring it up to her room or whether she should first ask Emma if she wanted something to eat. Perhaps she should just trust that Emma would have sense enough to either make herself something to eat or ask Jane to cook something for her when she felt hungry. Jane hated the ambivalence she always felt every time she had to make a decision regarding Emma. She was damned if she did, and damned if she didn’t.

  It was no surprise that every time Jane thought about Emma, her anxiety level escalated and her stomach pains intensified. After going back and forth in her head as to what she should do, Jane finally decided not to bother Emma. When she got hungry enough, she’d get herself something to eat or, more likely, order Jane to prepare a meal for her.

  Jane looked at the meager contents of her refrigerator. There really wasn’t much of a choice. She hoped that her debit card would arrive soon so that she could do some much-needed grocery shopping.

  She would just have to get creative with dinner tonight. She set the oven temperature to 350 degrees. She pulled out some chicken from the freezer and placed it in the microwave. She set it to defrost for fifteen minutes. Then she pulled out the bag of potatoes she had bought the night before (which she had only brought into the house hours ago). She set a pot of water to boil, added some salt and began peeling three medium potatoes, rinsing them off and setting them into the pot when she was done.

  When the chicken had defrosted, she trimmed off the excess fat from the pieces of skinless thighs and drumsticks and coated them with barbecue sauce. She placed them onto a shallow baking dish, lined with foil, and carefully shoved the dish into the oven.

  While Jane waited for the chicken and potatoes to cook, she ventured into the living room with a rag and a spray bottle full of carpet cleaner. The banana mush, which had turned a sickly black, was easier to clean than Jane expected. She returned to the kitchen,

  discarded the mess, rinsed the rag and washed her hands. She washed the dish, fork and pan that was in the sink and placed them on the dish drainer to air dry.

  Ten minutes later, Jane mashed the potatoes and heated up a can of corn. Shortly thereafter, the chicken was ready. There was enough food for three or four people. Once again, Jane considered taking a plate up to Emma. This time, maternal instincts and nurturing prevailed over common sense. She placed a chicken drumstick and thigh on a dish, along with a heaping scoop of mashed potatoes and some corn. She prepared a similar plate for herself and left it on the counter. She picked up Emma’s plate and walked upstairs.

  She paused in front of Emma’s room, having second thoughts. She knew Emma wouldn’t even answer her. She had ignored her all day. She turned around to walked back downstairs, then stopped. Emma was so skinny, she needed the nourishment. She turned around again, took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Her stomach clenched immediately. There was no answer—no surprise to Jane. She knocked again loudly. She heard Emma stirring on her bed.

  “Emma, I have some dinner for you,” Jane said loudly.

  Emma was groggy and disoriented. She opened her eyes slowly. She just wanted to go back to sleep. She barely heard what Jane had said—something about dinner.

  “Go away,” she tried to yell, but it sounded little louder than a whisper. Jane didn’t hear her at all.

  “Emma?” Jane repeated. “Please unlock this door.”

  Emma cleared her throat. She needed a drink of water.

  “Leave me alone,” she managed to call out loudly enough for Jane to hear.

  “Just open the door,” Jane demanded.

  Emma, still disoriented, tried to sit up. It took every bit of her energy. By the time she was upright, she lost the strength to hold herself up a
nd crashed back down upon her bed. She felt exhausted. She needed to sleep.

  Jane pounded on the door. She had made up her mind. She wasn’t giving up so easily.

  “I’m not leaving until you open this door,” she insisted.

  Emma moaned softly. Her head hurt. The pounding made it

  throb. Each strike against the door felt like a drill boring into her skull.

  “Go,” she murmured. It was barely audible; Jane heard nothing.

  She continued pounding on the door furiously. She would not stop until Emma opened the door. She’d stay there all night if she had to.

  The loud pounding was too much for Emma to bear.

  “Stop!” she called out as loudly as possible. She clapped her hands over her ears.

  “Not until you open the door,” Jane said adamantly.

  Emma forced herself back up, fueled only by rage. She needed to get rid of Jane. She stood up on shaky, wobbly feet, wondering if that’s how it felt to be drunk. She stumbled forward, holding on to nearby furniture for support from falling. She was sure she had the flu. She barely made it to the door, crashing against it to keep upright.

  The thud made Jane jump.

  “What was that?” she yelled. “Did you just throw something?”

  Emma slowly turned the lock on the door knob. She turned the knob and pulled the door open, walking backward slowly while bracing herself against the door as much as possible. She opened the door about a foot, just enough to keep Jane from pounding further. Her head hurt so badly she almost wished she would die from this dreadful flu.

  Jane stepped forward and peered in. Emma was propped up against the door, mostly hidden. Jane could only see her head and left shoulder.

  “I’ve brought you dinner,” she said calmly, examining Emma’s face. She looked awful. Her cheeks were so sunken in that her cheekbones jutted out in an unsightly way. He eyes had dark, puffy circles underneath and were only half-open. Her pale face was blank, devoid of all expression. She didn’t look anything like the Emma Jane had known just weeks before. She looked like a scary zombie version of Emma.