MOTHER: A Novel

by Angel Gelique

  “That’s ridiculous...just listen to yourself, you’re just assuming your mom kept your dad away. Was your dad that much of a coward?” Sarah said angrily.

  “What? No! Of course not. Why would you say such a thing?”

  “Well that’s pretty much what you’re saying if you think your mom made your dad stay away—like he was too scared to stand up for himself...like he just listened to her at your expense. Does that sound right? Think about it Emma.”

  Emma did think about it, as she had thought about it several times during the years, especially the first couple of months after Gregory left. She had hated him, despised him for leaving her. She couldn’t understand how he could just pick up and leave and never look back. Worse, she couldn’t understand why. At first she blamed herself. Maybe her grades weren’t good enough. Maybe she was getting too sassy. Maybe she was too short, or too tall, or too fat. No, it wasn’t

  her, though...it was Jane. It had to be Jane. She was the reason her dad left. He couldn’t take it anymore, having to share his life with such a worthless sack of fat. Surely he was disgusted by her. It must have been so embarrassing for him. Emma couldn’t imagine how ashamed he must have felt to have to introduce her to someone as his wife.

  The more Emma thought of it, the more she could empathize with her dad, because she, too, had grown incredibly ashamed of Jane. She didn’t want to be anything like her. She hated Jane for making her father leave. She hated Jane for ruining her life. The hatred grew and grew, festered like a gangrenous wound and embedded itself deep within Emma’s heart. For so long she was driven by just one goal—turn eighteen and move far the hell away from Jane. Each day she grew more distant from Jane, but her anger and hatred culminated when she found out that Jane didn’t even care enough to plan a special sweet sixteen party for her. That’s when she no longer made any effort to conceal her feelings from Jane. If Jane didn’t care, why should she? She became downright rude and disrespectful and found that Jane did nothing but accept her abuse and mistreatment...because Jane was weak...she was weak. But if she was the weak one...then was it really her father’s own decision to leave? To stay away?

  Emma trembled as tears flooded to her eyes. She didn’t know what to believe. Who was responsible? Jane? Her father? Or was it herself? She knew without a doubt that she had been bad to Jane, absolutely bitterly cruel. But did she deserve it? Or had she been wrong all along?

  “Emma? What’s on your mind?” Sarah asked. She could sense the mental dilemma haunting Emma’s mind.

  Emma was speechless. She felt distraught. She wasn’t sure who to feel sorry for, but she knew now that all that time hardening her heart and hating Jane was wrong. What did it really accomplish anyway? It only served to make them both miserable. The only one her hatred hadn’t affected was Gregory.

  She thought about how he never wrote her a letter or mailed her a card. No birthday cards, no Christmas card, no gifts...except the party, and she had to make him feel guilty to get that. Even if Jane had told him to stay away, he still could’ve mailed her notes, cards, gifts, emailed her, called her—for God’s sake—he could’ve picked

  up the damn phone and called her. The phone number remained the same all these years. He could have maintained a relationship with her, he could have...if he had wanted to.

  And when she wanted to move in with him, he had flat-out rejected her! He finally came clean about his girlfriend and new baby. He might as well have said, “no Emma, I have a new daughter now, I don’t need you in my life.” Baby, Emma thought. Just how old was this baby? The wheels in Emma’s brain were turning fast, piecing together the truth.

  Emma wiped the tears from her face and pulled her cell phone out of her purse. She turned it on and waited for it to initialize. It had been a long time since it was used. “3 missed calls” was displayed on the screen. She disregarded it. There was something she needed to do.

  “Who are you calling?” Sarah asked. She was worried about Emma. She looked crazed, but intent on some unknown mission. Emma did not answer her. Sarah listened to Emma’s side of the conversation. Her tone was cold and serious.

  “I need to speak with my dad...yes, I’ll hold...no, interrupt the meeting, it’s extremely urgent.”

  After a short pause, she resumed her conversation. “Dad? How old is Katie?...Katie, my sister. How old is she?...I just want to know…she’ll be two on April 21st? Two already, huh? That’s what I thought. No, nothing, nothing at all.”

  Emma abruptly disconnected the call and returned her phone to her purse without checking her messages. She looked directly at Sarah, teary-eyed and trembling slightly. She looked pale and waif-like.

  “Katie is almost two,” she said, sounding defeated.

  “Who? Your sister?”

  Emma nodded slowly.

  “Do you know what that means?” Emma asked softly.

  “What?”

  “It means my dad had a girlfriend while he was still living with us. He was cheating on Jane the whole time. His girlfriend was pregnant before he even left home.”

  “You see,” Sarah said, “it had nothing to do with your mother or her weight. Your dad was just a scumbag.”

  “I feel sick,” Emma said, and she ran to the restroom where she

  threw up a vile mixture of water and stomach acid.

  As a true friend, Sarah was two steps behind her. She knocked on the stall door.

  “You all right in there?”

  Emma hesitated, catching her breath.

  “Better,” she panted. She flushed the toilet and walked to the sink. She rinsed her mouth and washed her hands.

  Emma and Sarah returned to their table silently. Sarah knew it was a turning point for Emma. She actually looked at peace. Even her body language was calm, relaxed. Her former tense, angry self seemed to vanish. Good riddance, Sarah thought. She hoped to never see that side of Emma again.

  Sarah needed to be sure. If her theory was correct, Emma wouldn’t flip out when she asked her about her mother.

  “So what did your mom do for your birthday?”

  “Nothing,” Emma said softly.

  “C’mon, I know better than that,” Sarah said.

  “Seriously, she didn’t do anything or give me anything. Well, she did turn my phone back on.”

  “It was off?”

  “Since Sunday, but I guess you wouldn’t know that since you didn’t try calling me,” Emma teased.

  She was still upset about her father, confused about Jane and angry at herself for being so ignorant. Yet somehow she felt better than she had in...well, just about two years. It was funny how all of her previous birthdays seemed like every other day to her; she passed from twelve to thirteen, thirteen to fourteen, fourteen to fifteen with no discernable difference from one day to the next. Today was different. The transition from fifteen to sixteen was momentous. She actually felt more mature, more intelligent. It certainly wasn’t the birthday she envisioned months ago, it was more of a bittersweet sixteen than a sweet one, but it was one she would never forget. She knew it was time to stop acting like a child and start confronting her problems productively. She knew she had to stop pushing her friends away. She knew she had to stop pushing Jane away. She had a lot of apologizing to do.

  “Speaking of my phone,” Emma said, as she retrieved her cell phone from her purse. She was curious to see who had tried to call her. She dialed her voice mail and entered her pass code.

  The first message was from Taryn, the chubby girl she had insulted at her party. Taryn said “I’d rather be a fat bitch than a mean, stupid one any day!”

  Emma realized that it was in response to her email reply. She supposed she deserved it. It embarrassed her to think of how badly she had treated her friends. Why had she been so unable to control her anger? She hadn’t checked her email account since that one time after the party. She could imagine how much hate mail she had accrued.

  The second voice message was just the click from a hang up call.


  The third and final message, received at 3:43 p.m., just over an hour ago, was from Jane. Emma frowned as she listened to it. It sounded extremely urgent. Jane sounded so upset. It troubled Emma enough to prompt her to call home. The phone rang and rang, five times until their message played. Emma hung up. She tried calling Jane’s cell phone, but that, too, rang until the voicemail played. Maybe it wasn’t as big an emergency as she feared.

  Sarah had noticed the concerned expression on Emma’s face.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked.

  “I guess so. Jane left a message asking me to call her back. She said it was very, very important, but she didn’t answer when I tried calling. I even tried her cell phone.”

  “That’s odd. Maybe she’s trying to get you to go home so that she could surprise you with birthday gifts.”

  “Somehow I doubt it,” Emma said, knowing she didn’t deserve it. Yet, it did sound like something Jane would do.

  “You’re probably right,” she said, smiling. She had decided that she needed to mend her ways quickly, especially with Jane. She thought about all the cruel things she said and did to her. I slapped her, she thought. It was a sickening thought. It was as though her common sense and reason had been kidnapped and was now being returned. Looking back on all of those heartless moments mortified Emma beyond comprehension. She had become a stranger even to herself.

  Sarah finished the last of her cider, which had gotten cold by now.

  “Do you think she could ever forgive me?” Emma asked in a small, childlike voice.

  “Who?” Sarah asked, then realized that Emma was talking about

  her mother.

  “Jane,” Emma replied, her voice cracking.

  “She’s your mother, Emma, of course she’ll forgive you. She loves you, and you know it.”

  “I know she does, but I can’t imagine how she’d ever forgive me. I called her so many horrible names and did so many bad things to her. I broke her laptop, I smashed her favorite picture frame, I threw away food from the refrigerator and pantry...and worst of all....” Emma became choked up.

  “It’s okay,” Sarah said compassionately.

  Emma shook her head slowly.

  “I slapped her...I slapped her and called her a bitch.”

  Sarah gasped. She couldn’t help it. Destroying property—even expensive property like a laptop—was one thing. But slapping your own mother? Calling her a bitch? It was unheard of. It was tantamount to a heinous crime. Emma was like the Hitler of teen-aged kids.

  “Oh my God, Emma! You didn’t!”

  “I did,” Emma said, nodding her head as tears rolled past her cheeks.

  “What were you thinking?”

  “I don’t know, I was just so angry. I felt like I hated her, I wanted to hurt her. I wasn’t thinking of anything else but causing her pain. I don’t know why, Sarah, I really don’t know why....” Emma whimpered.

  “What you did was cruel and awful, but even so, your mom will forgive you. I know she will. C’mon, let’s get out of here,” Sarah suggested.

  Emma nodded in agreement, not so much about being forgiven, but she was ready to leave the donut shop. She needed some air.

  “I need to apologize to Jane,” she said nervously. “Can you come with me?”

  “Of course,” Sarah said. She was thrilled that the Emma everyone knew and loved was back...hopefully for good. She gave Emma a tight hug and they left the donut shop.

  ~20~

  Sarah and Emma walked all the way to Emma’s house, while Emma continued to tell Sarah about all of the vicious things she had said and done to Jane and their friends. Sarah listened intently, horrified by most of what she heard.

  Emma barely had the physical stamina to walk all the way home, while Sarah barely had the mental strength to process all the terrible things Emma had done. They were both exhausted by the time they arrived. Sarah could tell that Emma was extremely nervous. It had to be hard to face Jane and apologize. Yet, it was long overdue and Sarah was proud that Emma had finally regained her senses.

  “It’ll be fine, you’ll see,” Sarah assured her as Emma reached for the doorknob.

  Sarah and Emma dropped their backpacks on the floor in the foyer and kicked off their boots. They walked quietly into the kitchen, then the dining room. Sarah and Emma stared up at the brightly-colored balloons and streamers.

  “Really?” Emma said, growing embarrassed. “I’m not ten!”

  “Remember, be nice,” Sarah reminded her.

  “I know, I’m just antsy.”

  Emma looked at the small box and card on the table. She wanted to open them up but decided it would be best to wait for Jane. She didn’t want to ruin any more of her plans. She felt bad enough for everything she had already done.

  “I wonder where your mom is,” Sarah said, as Emma wondered the exact same thing.

  “Probably in her room. Maybe she didn’t hear us come in,” Emma said. The two girls began walking upstairs. When they were about a third of the way up, Sarah looked over to her left—to the living room area. She could see Jane asleep on the couch. She stopped walking.

  “Oh, there she is,” Sarah said, pointing to the couch.

  “Why is she sleeping?” Emma asked, surprised to see Jane lying

  there so early in the evening. By now, Jane should have been nearly done with dinner, or at least getting started on it.

  “She probably got tired of waiting for you to get home,” Sarah teased. They began walking back downstairs.

  “She usually has dinner started by now.” Emma sounded worried. Sarah thought it was cute. It was certainly in stark contrast to the way Emma had acted the last time she had seen them together.

  “Maybe she wants to take you out to dinner tonight.”

  “Maybe...I’m sure you can come too,” Emma said as they entered the living room. They walked right up to Jane. She lay motionless on the couch. Didn’t she hear them approaching? Talking?

  “Jane?” Emma called. Still no movement.

  “Mrs. Winston?” Sarah said quietly.

  Emma placed her hand on Jane’s shoulder and rocked her softly.

  Jane did not respond. She did not move at all.

  Emma panicked. She shook her violently.

  “Wake up,” she begged. Jane remained still. Something was wrong. Emma felt sick to her stomach with worry and fear. She didn’t know what to do.

  “Why won’t she wake up?” she cried, tears streaking across her face.

  Sarah was worried too. Jane looked dead.

  “Jane, please...please wake up,” Emma cried, still rocking Jane. She hugged her tightly. “Pleeeeassse,” she sobbed.

  While Emma clung to Jane, Sarah pulled out her cell phone.

  “I’ll get help,” she yelled as she quickly dialed 9-1-1.

  Emma knew her mother was not dead yet. She could hear her heart beating. Yet something was definitely wrong. Otherwise she would wake up. Emma knew she was dying. While Sarah frantically explained the nature of her emergency to the dispatcher, Emma reached for Jane’s hand. Something fell to the floor.

  Emma’s eyes shifted to the floor where the small plastic bottle had fallen—her diet pills! Emma’s eyes widened and she left Jane’s side briefly to retrieve the bottle.

  “What is that?” Sarah asked.

  “They’re diet pills,” Emma answered anxiously, shaking the bottle.

  “Oh my God!” Sarah exclaimed, “did she overdose on them?”

  The thought had crossed Emma’s mind. All the times she had

  called her mother fat, she had wondered if she drove Jane to commit suicide, and by all methods, overdosing on her own diet pills. Yet the bottle seemed to be as full as she had remembered them from yesterday. Emma opened the bottle. She couldn’t remember how many pills she had taken since she had swiped them from the pharmacy a few weeks back. She didn’t take them every day, they sometimes made her sick. But she took them when she felt especially fat and when she was exhausted. They he
lped to keep her awake.

  “I don’t think she took any of these,” Emma cried.

  “How would you know?” Sarah asked.

  “There’s about the same amount left in the bottle.”

  “You knew Jane was taking these pills? They’re dangerous,” Sarah said worriedly.

  “She wasn’t taking them…they’re my pills.”

  “What? You’ve been taking them?” Sarah’s eyes were wide and her mouth dropped open.

  Emma nodded.

  “This is all my fault,” Emma said frantically. “She probably found out I was taking them and worried so much that she had a heart attack or something. God, where’s that ambulance?”

  “Emma, you’ve been taking diet pills?” Sarah asked again, unable to believe it.

  Emma nodded. She put her ear to Jane’s chest again to make sure that her heart was still beating.

  “Do you know how dangerous that is?” Sarah yelled.

  “I’m fine,” Emma yelled back anxiously. For once she was more concerned with Jane than with her own well-being.

  “Why would you take diet pills anyway? Are you nuts?”

  “Not now,” Emma begged, she could barely think straight. She felt dizzy and nauseous. “Where are they?” she screamed out loud.

  Emma felt helpless and all alone even though Sarah was there with her.

  “I should call my dad,” Emma whimpered. She walked into the kitchen and dialed the number for Gregory’s office, praying that he was still there. He often worked late, or at least he often had said he was working late. Emma now had a clear idea what he was probably doing.

  Just when Emma was about to hang up, Gregory answered.

  “Dad? Thank God! Something’s wrong with Jane, she won’t wake up, I think she had a heart attack, I think she’s dying, Dad, I don’t know what to do, I—”

  “Emma?” Gregory interrupted, feeling instantly annoyed. “Stop talking so fast, I don’t know what you’re saying.”

  “It’s Jane, she’s sick or dying,” Emma blurted out. She was crying hysterically again.

  “Jane? You mean your mother? What happened?” Gregory asked.