35
“Elena, I have to go to work.” My mother shakes me gently and I open my eyes heavily. “I’ll be back in the afternoon.” She powders her nose in front of the mirror and I watch her quietly and yawn. She’s wearing a blue pencil skirt with a white blouse and high-heeled shoes. Her hair is pulled back neatly. Even in the midst of our biggest nightmare, she is still standing up straight, not allowing anything to bend her over. “Well,” she turns to me, scolding, “are you going to waste your entire day in bed?”
“Oh, Mom,” I groan and smile. “You’ll never change.”
“Why should I change?” she asks with an offended expression, and I laugh and sit up.
“You’re perfect,” I say as I go to the bathroom.
“Don’t go outside,” she calls through the door. “I’m locking you in, but there are keys in the dresser.”
“Fine,” I shout back and when I hear the front door close I put on some jeans and a T-shirt and go downstairs to the kitchen. I make myself a cup of coffee and turn on my laptop. My phone is ringing. I walk over to the dresser, see Liam’s number and silence it.
“Stinking karma,” I shake my head in despair. This is my punishment for choosing his corrupted world. For thinking that achieving my dreams, makes all means of getting there legitimate. How many women like my mother have had visits from his men? How much blood has been spilled upon his orders? Drugs, prostitution, alcohol, gambling… it’s all the same shit and that shit is now lying at my front door.
I surf the web, looking for ways to get large amounts of money. I reach some online gambling sites. Out of the question. I find poll-taking, writing letters of recommendation and other ridiculous offers that might get me a few hundred dollars after hours of hard work. My phone rings again and I turn it off angrily. I need my brain to stay sharp, the only thing that will help it stay focused is my schoolwork. I go into my email and see that Johanna has come through for me. She sent me summaries of all the classes I missed yesterday as well as a task-list. I clear my head of every annoying thought and settle for several hours of pure joy. The door lock rattles, and I stand up nervously. “Elena, I’m back,” I hear my mother’s voice and help her carry the bags of groceries. “Did you eat?” she asks and glances at the sink.
“I didn’t have time, I was busy.”
“You're awful,” she says angrily and starts putting the groceries away. “You must take care of your body. I don’t look this way at fifty because of plastic surgery, its thanks to good nutrition.” She starts preparing lunch.
I turn off my computer and watch her. “Mom, we need to sit down and think about what we should do.”
“What can we do?” she asks, without expecting an answer. “The bank refused to give me a loan, I had a yard sale and made one thousand dollars, and I got an advance on my salary. Now I have the enormous sum of two thousand dollars.” She chops vegetables and rubs her neck. “So how much do we still need?” she laughs bitterly.
“We’ll talk to them when they come back.” I’m biting my nails, and she puts down her knife, walks over to me furiously, smacks my hand, and goes back to the chopping board.
“Biting your nails…” she grumbles. “Nobody will believe that I raised you.”
I put my hand down. “Did you hear what I said? We’ll talk to them when they come back, and explain that if they kill us, there’ll be nobody to pay them back. It would be better for them if they leave us alone and let us pay in installments.”
She puts the knife down on the chopping board and turns to me with a smile. “I knew my smart daughter would have a good idea.” She comes over and kisses me on top of my head. Suddenly she looks at me as if she’s seeing me for the first time. “You don’t have your braid,” she says in a trembling voice. “You never go anywhere without your hair in that damned braid.”
“I’ve been through some changes recently,” I say dryly, “and had to deal with some demons from the past.”
“I’m glad,” she smiles at me sadly. “I thought it would never happen. You have such beautiful hair.”
“Mom,” I muster the courage to confront her, “I need you to know that I’m still angry with you.” I curl my hands into fists. “Very angry, actually.”
“I know.” I'm not prepared for her answer. “I know that you're angry with me.” She sits down across from me and touches the tiny wrinkles around her eyes. “We should have talked about it years ago.”
“All these years you’ve made me feel like it was my fault!” I erupt at her as the vault in my stomach which guarded all my repressed emotions explodes. “I knew that that man was doing something wrong to me and I had the courage to come and tell you. I expected you to protect me, to hug me, to encourage me, to make sure that scumbag spends the rest of his life in jail. But you were ashamed of me and told me not to tell anyone. You even blamed my hair.” I feel like I’m choking but I can’t stop talking. “You were the reason I grew up thinking that it was my fault, because I bragged about my pretty hair. I’ve only recently understood that it had nothing to do with me.” I burst into tears, and she looks at me in distress.
“Is that what you thought?” she yells, stands up, her entire body shaking. “You thought that I was ashamed of you? You thought that I blamed you? You thought that I hid it all to avoid embarrassment?”
“Yes,” I stand up before her with blazing eyes.
“Then you do not know your mother!” She bangs on the table.
“Then make me understand who she is!” I bang the table as well. “Because right now I neither respect nor love the one I know.”
“Sit down,” she orders and pours two glasses of water. I remain standing. “Sit!” she raises her voice, places the glasses on the table and sits down.
I try to control my shaking body and sit down on the edge of a chair.
“When you told me, my whole world came crashing down,” she says, trying to steady her trembling voice. “I didn’t know how to deal with such a terrible thing, so I did the first thing that came into my head. I hid your beauty.” She takes a sip of water from the glass in her shaking hand. “But that wasn’t the end of it. I waited until you fell asleep and went down to the kitchen, took a knife from the drawer and went to their house. He and his wife were sitting in the living room. I told him I had a little problem and that I would like to talk to him privately. He came out to the yard with me and walked so naturally with me into his garage. When I saw that chair you told me about, the one he sat on when he did what he did, I lost my mind. I pushed him down on the chair and shoved the knife into his stomach. I twisted it and laughed hysterically.”
I open my eyes wide in astonishment, and she continues as if she has been waiting to unload her burden all these years. “His wife came out when she heard him screaming. She shouted she was calling the police, and I explained quietly to her what he had done. Suddenly I felt very calm, and while he was squirming on the floor, I told her that she had two options. One was to take him to a hospital, say that it was an accident and then leave town for good. The other was to press charges, and I would go to jail, but I would make sure that pictures of him, her, and their daughters would be hung on every tree in town with all the details of what her husband had done.” She smiles to herself and I can’t breathe. “She made the right choice.”
“I thought they moved because he got a new job,” I murmur.
“Well, not exactly.” She is still smiling to herself. “And then I told your father everything. He said that if we made a big deal out of it, we would ruin your life. That everyone would always look and point at you. He thought we should make you forget it.”
“You don’t forget something like that,” I say sadly.
“I should not have listened to him.” She shakes her head from side to side in disappointment. “I should have sent you to therapy or at least talk to you about it, but I was so upset by what it made me do, I decided to listen to your father, and that's when I started losing you” she sighs regretfully, and I look at her and realize that she actually is a lioness.
“It seems we both like knives,” I mutter and smile at her. She squints in confusion and I stand up and gesture her to rise. When she is standing, I put my arms around her and hug her tight. “You didn’t lose me,” I hold on to her body. “I’m here and we’ll fight for our freedom together.”
“Maybe I needed to go through all of this to get you back.” She kisses me on the head and goes back to preparing lunch. “Now I can come to terms with it. And strangely, now that you are here with me, I am not afraid. I understand that I can deal with this calmly.” I help her set the table and we eat quietly, each of us deep in her own thoughts.
Evening comes and we watch a movie together on the old television. We are huddled together under a blanket, sharing a large container of ice cream. We go upstairs to the bedroom to sleep and when I toss and turn, she sings me a French children’s song. I want to tell her that she’s being ridiculous, that I’m a big girl that you can’t really turn back time, but my eyes close and I feel safe and protected.