We Rip the World Apart

Kareela

I sit and listen, imagine my mother in that moment, after all she’d been through. Knowing what she needed to do, should have done, being strong and brave enough to do it, and then being told—even if it was only a tactic on Gran’s part—that she didn’t matter, only Dad and I did. That she needed to forget, move on from what had happened.

For us.

I pull my hand from Gran’s and shift away as she speaks, tells me the rest of the story. The police at the hospital, ready to help. The doctor suspecting. How Gran dismissed their concerns. Whether she meant to or not, dismissed my mother—her pain, her need for justice, for validation of this trauma.

When she finishes, Gran raises her gaze. “Me thought me was doin what was right. For yuh, yuh fatha. Yuh motha, too. Most of all, yuh motha. Me thought me needed to stress it be for yuh, ’cause she so determined. And she had no idea what woulda come. How bad it could be for a woman. De aftermath. Worse, maybe, than de actual assault, when everyone know. How it make yuh relive it, again and again. Make yuh question every choice yuh made to lead yuh to it, every choice during it.” She wrings her hands. “Truly, me was tryin to protect her.”

The pressure in my head is a thousand knives battling to force their way out. I stand, distancing myself from Gran, this woman who is more of a mother to me than I have any clear memory of my mother being. This woman I’m about to change my life for.

My eyes close. I want to yell, tell her this wasn’t her choice to make. That it should have been my mother’s, only my mother’s. That she did wrong. That I didn’t ask for this protection or want it, and neither did Dad. That it wasn’t the type of protection my mother needed.

Instead, I choose my words carefully, make my voice as even and calm as I can. “I need to see Mom.”

I stand, aware of all Gran’s done, all she’s been—for me—aware that nothing she’s told me erases that. I caress her shoulder as I walk past and hope my barely there touch conveys the love I can’t speak.