39. Chapter 39 #2
“You will never understand how the extent of my upbringing is still affecting me, and that’s fine.” I sigh, taking a deep breath - much like a therapist taught me to do when I feel overwhelmed.
“However, if you have even an ounce of maternal love towards me, then please, please help me understand why you are the way you are, so I can finally move on because I can’t carry this resentment on my back anymore; I won’t.”
I pause, observing her every move.
“I don’t want this to end like last time, and frankly, I don’t have the energy to scream at you anymore.
So please, at least respect me enough to answer one question.
Just one, then we can carry on being civil for Theo’s sake, and you and I can go on to our separate lives.
” I finish, placing my arms on my knees and clasping my hands together, as the room falls silent again.
“Fine,” she replies with a one-word answer. A sad, tiny part of me expected more, but I will take what I can get.
“What happened between you and Mario? Why did you destroy the wardrobe that night? And why was I forbidden to ever talk about him again?” I realise that that was three questions, but I couldn’t help myself; it was likely that she was only going to answer one, though I am glad I voiced them.
Mother takes a quiet, deep breath, boring her gaze into my light grey rug.
“I grew up Amish.” My body stiffens at the sudden reveal as she speaks four words I never expected to come out of her mouth. Nevertheless, I quickly school my surprise for a neutral expression and allow her to continue.
“I had no say in what I wanted to do with my life; I was expected to do everything my parents told me to do, including being married off at sixteen to a man twice my age. Despite all my objections, I had been raised to respect and follow along with what was expected in our society,” my mother recites, still staring down at the floor, gently gripping the arm of the sofa for support.
“Yo-” she stutters, her grip tightening. “Your fa-” she tries again, the word burning her throat. I can see it; however, I fought the urge to reach out and offer her comfort, like I would Theo or Luna.
She clears her throat.
“Your father was the man I married,” she finally gets out, taking another deep breath.
“He was someone far too intelligent for his time, and just like me, suppressing his desires to mould into our society led him to take his frustrations out on me - not physically, but he constantly put pressure on me. Knowing, more than anyone, that being forced into a corner never ends well,” she recites, looking at me for the first time, with a look I’ve never seen before.
Vulnerability.
“Your intelligence and looks, you get from him, but everything else is me,” she smiles, then looks away.
“After years of trying to turn myself into the person he and my parents wanted me to be, and the countless failures of trying to get pregnant, I couldn’t live with the weight of their expectations anymore.
So, I waited until your father fell asleep and left in the dead of night with food and whatever belongings I could squeeze into my backpack and never looked back,” mother declares, composed with her hands clasped together in her lap.
“I decided to restart my life, and after days of walking on foot to the nearest road, I hitched ride after ride and finally made my way to London. Did what I needed to do to land myself a job as a weather girl for a local news station.”
She smiles sadly to herself, thinking back to those days.
“Then, the day I put myself forward and got scouted by a travel company, I found out I was pregnant with you.”
She pauses briefly.
“I had already decided not to look back on my old life. Therefore, once I knew about you, I told the company trying to poach me I had certain demands they’d need to agree with, or I’d go elsewhere.” Mother smirks, crossing her legs.
“I’m aware you aren’t happy with some of the things you went through in your childhood, and you’re right, that’s for you to deal with, but I won’t make any apologies for the choices I’ve made or for how I chose to live my life.”
In that moment, we lock eyes.
“I’ll be honest with you, I’m not sure why I kept you. At first, it was probably because you were a connection to my past, but then again, it could be because, despite my number of failed relationships, you were the man I thought would never leave me, that is, until you did,” she admits.
“I spent the first half of my life living through others, and the moment I left home, I refused to do that again. Yes, that does make me selfish and a terrible mother, but as you said, I do have an ounce of maternal instinct towards you,” she adds, holding out her hand.
I hesitate, staring at it for a beat, then take her hand.
“I hate admitting this, but you are your father through and through. And I have no idea whether he’s dead or alive, nor does he know you exist, and he’d never risk being shunned to find out.” She glances down at my hand, brushing her thumb against my knuckles.
“I don’t believe I was ever meant to be a parent, nor do I ever believe I will ever get it right; however, I appreciate you understanding what good things I have done for you.
I will always make sure yours and Theo’s identity remains a secret.
I can’t remember what Theo likes, nor can I truly apologise for lugging you around the world, but I am the reason you can speak over twelve languages fluently.
” She teases, and this is the first time my mother and I share a laugh, and all it took was a roasted joke about my childhood.
“Though I will continue to protect you and your brother, in my own way, I’m glad you’ve realised there is no need to have expectations towards me. You really are healing,” she adds, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.
“As for Mario, I loved him deeply. I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone the way I did him. But that was the problem,” Mother reveals, letting go of my hand and dropping her gaze to the rug again.
“We were in love. Which is why my travel bug wilted; suddenly being with many other men didn’t work. I only wanted to be with him.” She closes her eyes as we both slip down memory lane.
Thanks to my eidetic memory, I easily relive that night Luigi and I woke up to the sound of banging and a loud crash.
Luigi was the first to leap out of the room to investigate, and by the time I had caught up to him.
I saw my mother using a sledgehammer to smash the wardrobe Mario had been hired to make her into pieces, and our bags were packed and waiting by the door.
It was the moment I realised my most wanted happy ending was never going to happen.
“That night, while Mario was visiting his cousin in Piacenza. I was putting his clothes away when I found a ring.” Mother reveals, recalling a week before we fled, my mother’s birthday was coming up.
Mario was making all kinds of preparations in town, but it was all a secret he asked to keep.
I had no idea… he was going to propose; he wanted the four of us, including Luigi, to be a family.
Suddenly, I’m grateful I wasn’t aware of this.
I would’ve hated my mother more if I did, knowing we left for such a cruel and selfish reason.
“I’m still married to your father, and the ring was a wake-up call. A reminder that I didn’t want to be tied down, and wanted to continue living with my freedom, so I panicked.”
This is the first time I’ve seen my mother cry, and she doesn’t try to hide it either, allowing the single tear to stroll down her cheek before she swats it away.