by Ada Winder
More hollow group laughter.
Alice would have felt the sting of ridicule had what Megan said not been so ridiculous itself.
“Of course there are ups and downs, you feel like doing new things…”
“Exactly! I always feel like doing new things, things that involve learning, discoveries, skills…”
“But you have to appreciate the everyday new things Alice. A new tooth growing in your child’s mouth or a new word said, a new recipe to try…”
“You guys aren’t getting it. What I mean is—okay, for example, I had gotten a scholarship to…”
“Oh. Well, what good is a scholarship when you husband’s going to be the one putting education to use?”
“But I have a brain too! I need to feed it; I can’t just let it go to waste. It’s just so difficult sometimes—I have needs too.”
“Of course you do. But it’s your job to make sure your husband’s needs are met. That’s your real job—taking care of your family. Women are always responsible for the next generation—we have the greatest responsibility of all. You really think we can take on more?”
But I’m not made of the same stuff as you! I don’t think I can live this way! her thoughts screamed. But Alice knew it was useless to try to further explain how she felt. These women were all resigned to their roles and perhaps, saw no way out.
She sighed.
“I hope it gets easier. I’m really not sure I can do this, but I’ll try,” her mouth said, as she hoped to erase the dissension she had created.
They seemed to smile at her words without their mouths moving.
You will learn, their eyes said.
***
Alice wondered why it was that her unhappiness was not enough of a reason to want out of her marriage. What did George have to do for her to be excused in wanting to leave him? Did he have to cheat on her? He cheated her out of her zest for life—was that not enough? Even then she knew other wives would insist she stay, or at least, silently applaud her for sticking it out if he did cheat on her—even if he had an affair with a different woman every now and then. Like Helen’s husband. And Helen stayed; she was a loyal wife. She was doing what she was supposed to be doing even if her husband wasn’t, and that was admirable. A proper lady and wife must follow the rules.
So did George have to beat her in order for her wanting to leave him to be excusable? He pummeled her spirit—why was that not enough? Even then she knew they’d approve if she stayed, especially if him hitting her was seldom and the injuries were minor—a slap here, a push there. Joanna’s husband did it, and she stayed. She knew that sometimes she made him do it by being slow to understanding his needs at times, and sometimes he was just drunk and he was an angry drunk—easily irritable.
Alice wondered if they wanted her to wait until he killed her. She had already been dying a little every day; he was killing her slowly, choking her to death. Why couldn’t she want to leave because he was sucking her lifeblood dry? Why did her happiness not matter?
Alice remembered a classmate of hers from high school. Leslie seemed a charmed girl—pretty and slim with shampoo-commercial-like blond hair and big blue eyes. People thought she was even prettier than Farrah Fawcett. She also scored well academically, an honors student. On top of that, she was a good person—friendly, sweet. People wanted to dislike her—they wanted her to be a bitch or a snob so they could think she was full of herself and they could in turn, turn up their nose at her, gossip about her, rip her to pieces, but she did not give them the chance.
She dated a popular, handsome guy at school, a guy with honey-colored wavy hair, kind brown eyes and a dimpled smile. It was a storybook romance. They ended up marrying and having two children, a boy and a girl. A perfect family. They were as happy as could be according to everyone’s perception, seeming to live a charmed life together. But when one of their children died of pneumonia, Alice remembered the way some of her old fellow classmates relayed news of the tragedy. She was amazed that it seemed some of them could barely contain their satisfaction. While their mouths expressed their condolences and how terrible it was to lose a child, how sorry they felt for her, their eyes and tones seemed to say something else. Alice thought she saw and heard in them something along the lines of: Welcome to real life sister. It’s about time you’ve joined us in misery/unhappiness/ill-fortune at last.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Saturday, July 1st 2006
Alice surveyed the family room. By the time she had gotten home, a few people had already left, or not shown up at all. But the immediate family, George’s college friends, and some other folks were still there.
Everyone was mingling and mixing, save for David who sat on the couch eating a sandwich. One of his little girls sat there talking to him for a few moments, but then she bounded off.
Alice watched Elaine and Miriam as they chatted with each other, her eyes staying on Elaine for a few seconds.
Elaine was smiling—a rare sight to Alice, her eyes bright and wide with interest as she talked with Miriam.
Alice had forgotten the two were pretty close.
Miriam had kept in touch with Elaine over the years, checking on her even after Alice was able to take on the mothering role alone. Miriam would call Elaine on the telephone and vice versa.
Alice often wondered what they talked about.
Seeing her daughter occupied and David currently by himself she seized the opportunity to find out more about Elaine.
Alice went over and sat next to David, convinced they would have a few minutes to themselves. David looked over at her in surprise, but it seemed to be pleasant surprise.
“Well, hello, Mrs. Owens...”
“Oh, please. Call me Alice. How many times do I have to say that?”
Alice smiled at him, trying to let him know it was truly all right to do so. She hoped he would listen.
“I’m not sure I’d feel right about doing that seeing as how you’re my mom’s age and all. I’m sorry ma’am. Hope you’re not offended. I don’t mean nothin’ by it.”
Alice thought his manners and the way he looked as he said his apology were adorable, even if she found his Texan drawl a bit annoying. She could forgive him this one offense for being so cute.
“Goodness, whatever suits you David. So tell me, what did you think of the service?”
David paused a moment.
“Well, I think y’all did a pretty good job of putting it all together.”
“And the food?” She indicated a nearby tray.
“Real good. Nice of y’all to arrange this here get-together, give everybody a chance to talk to each other, remember Mr. Owens and…”
“David, tell me about my daughter,” Alice interrupted, impatient to get to the real reason she wanted to talk to him.
David looked at her with a puzzled expression.
“What do you mean, ma’am? Don’t you know your daughter?”
“Not as you do,” Alice said.
“Well...I’m not sure you can ever know her as I do ma’am, just as I could never know her the way you do; people tend to be a little different to different people. But tell me what you want to know, I’ll see what I can do.”
His expression still reflected slight confusion.
Surely he knew about the relationship between her and Elaine, and therefore, he must know they did not have one.
Was he assuming mothers knew their daughters regardless of whether they were best friends or strangers? Or had he only heard part of the story?
“Tell me everything you can. Her likes, dislikes. What does she like to do for fun for example? And how is she at work? How much does she like her job? I want to know my daughter as a mother, a wife, a person. I want to know if she’s happy.”
He looked away, a pensive look creeping onto his face for a moment.
“Well, she likes to go running…actually, I’m not sure she likes it, but she certainly does it every day. And she loves our daughters, no question ‘bout that.
”
“Did she want boys?”
“She didn’t seem to be particular but she was pretty thrilled when each girl arrived. She wanted to be a great mom, and she thought she could especially do that with little girls.”
Alice nodded for him to go on.
“She loves Doritos so it’s hard for her because she’s pretty disciplined and won’t indulge herself. It’s her treat—just one small bag when she accomplishes something.”
“That must be quite often.”
“Well, not just any old accomplishment. More like when she stays away from them for three months or something.” He laughed. “And the day she eats them, she exercises a little more than usual. On the treadmill, or hiking a little longer…”
“So she’s a fitness nut. A health nut.”
“Well, not exactly—I wouldn’t say she’s crazy about it. But she’s certainly serious and pretty consistent about it. She eats pretty healthily, works out all the time whenever she can. That’s her only weakness, those Doritos. Other than that, she reads a lot. Brushes up on old cases, keeps up with new ones. She sings to our daughters when they cry…”
“Can she sing? Does she have a good voice? What kind of songs does she sing to them?”
David laughed.
“She can’t really sing worth a lick, but she’s not unbearable. And the girls like it. And that’s all that matters to her.” He chuckled. “There was this one time though, Amber said…”
As much as Alice’s original intention was to find out about her daughter, she found David’s words drifting away from her comprehension as she ended up watching him instead. She watched him as he smiled when he thought about various aspects of his wife that he found funny or cute. She watched as he searched his brain to appease her request, digging up as many tidbits that he could, things he remembered about Elaine that made her uniquely her. She watched as he was able to successfully speak extensively about her, finding nugget after nugget. She watched his excitement grow. But most of all, she watched how he loved her daughter, how he admired her, respected her. Knew her. And she loved him for it.
Alice smiled at what she realized must have been an inappropriate point in his sentence because he stopped what he was saying and looked at her, his expression reflecting worry.
“Something wrong, ma’am?” he asked cautiously.
Alice shook her head.
“Nothing. Just—she sounds wonderful. You sound very happy with her.”
David’s smile was wide.
“Oh, ma’am. That ain’t even the half of it. She’s a real dedicated mom, and she’s passionate about her work. I love her focus and determination. And on top of all that, she still manages to be a great wife. A great person. She’s talented, smart, and she’s loving. I always believed she’s what I needed to complete my life. And she is. She’s all I need. All I’ve ever wanted.”
Alice squeezed his hand.
“I believe you.”
***
“Don’t be so hard on your mother.”
Miriam stared at Elaine, unblinking.
Elaine was surprised, caught off guard not only because the conversation they’d been having had nothing to do with her mother in the least, but because Miriam had never outright told her how to feel about her mother before; she had never really taken sides. For as long as she had known her aunt, Miriam stayed away from the topic for the most part. Elaine was usually the one to bring up her mother for discussion and Miriam would only listen, saying nothing. She just let her vent.
Furthermore, the words that had gone through her mind just a few seconds ago were: So help me Alice, if I find out you had anything to do with my father’s death, I will prosecute you myself.
“What are you talking about?” Elaine asked, and she felt a slight fear, one that told her she was about to be asked to confront something she was not yet ready to or perhaps would never be.
“No time for games, Elaine, you know exactly what I mean. Don’t be so hard on her. She’s had a rough time.”
There was no way Miriam could have known what she was thinking right before she gave her command so she figured Miriam could only be referring to one thing.
Elaine felt her usual bricks start joining together to build their wall around her.
She distracted herself by looking at her shoe.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that was an excuse.”
“What do you know about your mother?” Miriam asked.
She did not ask it in a rude way at all; it was a genuine question, and Miriam’s pale eyes reflected her curiosity, as if she was wondering about it just now for the first time. Still, Elaine knew that no matter what she said, it would not be enough. Miriam had a plan. In any case, she could easily admit to herself that she knew nothing, and the realization of how little she really knew about her mother struck her with a force that she was sure it caused the look of satisfaction that crept onto Miriam’s face.
“You don’t know a whole lot do you? Do you know anything about her life growing up?”
Miriam’s eyes pierced hers.
“That’s hardly relevant to anything…”
“It’s not? Then why are you so mean to her? If she did anything to you while growing up it can’t be relevant then, can it?”
Elaine silently conceded her point but patiently waited for her career skills to jump in.
Miriam still did not let her get away.
“Well? Tell me what you know…”
“So I don’t know anything. All I know is that she was a horrible mother. She was never there for me!”
Elaine knew she was on dangerous ground. She felt something in her start to break, and she knew she was dangerously close to tears. After years of bottling up her hurt and anger, she was on the verge of having the cap pop off. Like a balloon—one pop and the air released, leaving a deflated shrunken piece of latex. She struggled to find a change in subject but it was too late; Miriam had her in her trap. She gritted her teeth and held her tears at bay, promising herself Doritos if she made it.
“This is all I want to say,” Miriam began, “you can’t close yourself off when you have insufficient information. Let me ask you this—do you know your mother’s own mother died after giving birth to her?”
Elaine shook her head. She knew her grandmother had died a long time ago, but she had never questioned the cause.
“Do you know that her father sent her to his sister to raise?” Miriam continued, “For about four years? Do you know that he r-married when she was five, had another child, then sent her off to one of his sisters again when she began puberty? Do you know that it also coincided with the birth of his third child? His second child with her stepmother? Do you know that her father never sent back for her?”
“I still don’t think that’s any excuse. She’s my mother for Christ's sake!” But Elaine now felt she was partially lying to herself.
“She’s a human being first. Those might not be excuses, but they are reasons—and although not necessarily directly related to her relationship with you, they are in the background of her choices. And don’t think that’s the whole story because it’s not; people usually have a lot more going on, a lot more baggage than they ever let on. As you know very well, there’s usually a reason for the way people are, the things they do, how they react to different situations—whether we think they’re justified or not. Your hatred for her—the events that led up to it, are they excuses or reasons? Are you excused from loving your mother?”
“I should think so,” Elaine mumbled.
“Well, then, as you feel justified, having reasons or excuses for why you feel the way you do, do you at least understand that there might be reasons why she was not the mother you wanted her to be? Can you at least understand that?”
Elaine did not answer.
Her curiosity was piqued; her mother had never mentioned any siblings, but then again, they hadn’t exactly been on speaking terms. In any case, she could change the subject at last.
>
“These siblings of hers—did she keep in touch with them?”
Miriam shrugged.
“I doubt it. I do know that they all went to her father’s funeral about fifteen years ago. I’m not sure they spoke much before or after that; in fact, I’m not even sure they spoke then.”
Elaine looked over at her mother, finding herself wondering about her life for the first time. She could not imagine living life without the close relationship she had with her brother and father. And now she realized they had something in common: growing up without a mother. Elaine had had Miriam who was in and out of the role, while her mother was also reared by an aunt or two.
Furthermore, what were those other things that happened to her Miriam had been hinting at? What could possibly be worse than parental rejection? What else could have helped to make her the seemingly detached, indifferent person she was? A despicable mother—at least to her?
For the first time in her life, Elaine started to wonder if that wasn’t the person Alice was born to be after all.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Elaine’s girls were adorable, and one even looked like Alice when she was that age.
As she watched her granddaughters, she thought about the time she nearly drowned Elaine.
She was giving her a bath when she got the idea—although it was not so much an idea as it was an impulse.
Elaine was fussing around as usual and she was soaping her up, holding the back of her head and neck as she did so. She released the baby’s head and let her go under the water, assisting her by placing fingertips to her tiny chest. The baby flailed her arms, her large blue eyes looking up at her, bubbles coming out of her mouth as she cried, her muffled ‘wah’ almost making Alice giggle. Alice watched her for a few seconds then pulled her up, helping her get the water out. The child coughed and choked and cried as soon as she could.
Afterward, Alice felt nothing but wonder—wonder that she had done such a thing, wonder at what had stopped her; after all, she had not been thinking about what would happen to her when George found out, how he would feel, nor had she thought of what she would say in her defense after, what story she would have to make up, whether or not she could be charged with murder. Alice did not wonder about any of those things. She only wondered what it would be like to see her child finally go limp.