The Eye Unseen

by Cynthia Tottleben

  “Pay attention!” She backhanded me.

  “Yes, Ma’am. I’m sorry.”

  “When you get task #5, you will find all of the materials you need in the pantry cabinet.”

  I scanned the list and discovered that Mom wanted me to bake and decorate Brandy’s birthday cake.

  Wow! I couldn’t believe she was turning eighteen. How had I forgotten?

  “No problem. Thank you.” I wanted Mom to know that I had this one covered. For a nanosecond I even felt a sense of camaraderie with her, but that passed the instant I looked at her face and saw the same rigid features that greeted me every day.

  “We’ll be home at the usual time.”

  With the addition of my exciting mission, time flew. The materials Mom purchased were fabulous: a pan shaped like a butterfly—Brandy’s favorite—and a cake-decorating kit to match.

  I got to work early on it. The cake hit the oven at nine o’clock sharp, allowing it ample time to cool and be ready to ice in the early afternoon.

  I had just started cleaning the black specks from the refrigerator seals when Mom came home for lunch.

  The second I heard the tires crunching gravel, my heart jumped. The car sounded just like Mom’s, but what if someone else came by? What if one of the church ladies was bringing a gift for Brandy? I couldn’t answer the door.

  I couldn’t even be seen. Everyone knew I had moved to France.

  I put my cleanser in the sink and scurried to the hall closet. Claustrophobia entered alongside me, clutching my legs like a small child wanting to play. I batted the fear away, but it bit in deeper. Shutting the closet door opened up too many memories of my time in the shed. I almost started screaming. When a coat sleeve touched my arm, I jumped, certain the devil himself had shown up, ready to ram his horns into my side.

  “What are you doing in here?” Mom yelled when she found me.

  “Hiding.” Relief flooded my body as I stepped out. “I didn’t know who was here. I didn’t….”

  She placed her high heel on the top of my foot and pressed down.

  “You didn’t what, Lucy? You didn’t want to get caught slacking?”

  “No, no, no…I didn’t know it was you. It could have been anyone….”

  Mom grasped my hair and pulled my head to the side, marching me into the kitchen.

  “I gave you a very specific list this morning, didn’t I?”

  Spittle hit my face as Mom dragged me toward the list sitting innocently on the counter.

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you follow it?”

  She shoved me backward, into the table. My rear end hit the edge and almost toppled the heavy oak.

  “I did. I am. Right now I’m on the seals….”

  “I don’t care what you’re doing right now. Right now all you’re doing is sniveling. Right now you’re trying to figure out how you can get out of trouble. Right now you’re annoying the crap out of me. But right now you’re not doing what I told you to do.”

  I stared at her, blankly. What rationality she had drained from her face with every word. I couldn’t fathom what she wanted from me.

  “You weren’t supposed to bake that cake until this afternoon, were you?”

  When the pounding began I lost sense of time. She hit my ear viciously, and the explosion that followed muddled my vision. Constant action flipped into slow-mo for me, the battering a clumsy waltz in which Mom spun me to and fro and I kept tripping over my own feet. The second time I bounced against the table, it spun and landed on top of me, protecting my torso from Mom’s shoes.

  “When I give you direction, Lucy, I expect you to follow it. Look at how much time you’ve wasted. You can count this as your lunch break.”

  In my daze I could barely comprehend her words. They sounded as far off as the chanting Brandy and I heard coming from her bedroom at night.

  “I expect a great party for your sister tonight. You had better not ruin it.”

  She left as quickly as she came.

  My senses were all askew, but I did not breathe until I heard the tires crushing the gravel on their way back to the main road.

  I eased a Kleenex into my ear while I cleaned the refrigerator coils, hoping that by the time I decorated the cake it would stop bleeding.

  * * *

  Brandy burst into the room and halted the moment she saw my face.

  “Oh, no. Lucy….”

  She was cut short as Mom entered behind her, carrying several big bags.

  I had hidden the new scuff marks on the table with the pink plastic cloth Mom had purchased for our party. Streamers and balloons decorated the kitchen, the railing on the stairs, even the toilet handle. Since it was way too early for dinner I had put together a fruit and cheese tray for our appetizer.

  “Well, ladies, shall we get this party going?” Mom asked.

  Brandy and I exchanged glances. Sometimes we referred to the Mom of the last few months as New Mom, the woman we loved and cherished as Old Mom. The woman in the kitchen was definitely Old Mom, come for a visit.

  “Honey, did you put any ice on that bruise?” She asked, touching the side of my face in an amazingly gentle fashion. “I swear, you need to be more careful or one of these days you’ll do permanent damage to yourself.”

  I didn’t know whether she was slipping me a secret threat or if Old Mom really had no idea what had transpired between us today.

  Part of me didn’t want to find out. I stayed silent until she finally walked away.

  “I can’t believe you’re turning eighteen!” I congratulated my sister. “Wow. You’re so old!”

  “Now I can vote! Well, tomorrow I can…why are we having this party today?” Brandy turned and asked our mother.

  “Because tomorrow I have to work late and we have a meeting at the bank that will run forever. I didn’t want to ruin the festivities!” Mom answered.

  She opened the junk drawer in the kitchen—now fastidiously organized, thanks to my cleaning—and pulled out the deck of cards.

  “Gin?” Mom handed the cards to Brandy and went to fetch a pad of paper.

  “Lucy, I love the cheese, but let’s break out the cake!” Mom had candles in her hand and slid them into mine.

  I pulled my masterpiece from the oven so she could admire it. Mom kissed the top of my head and whispered that it was beautiful. My fingers shook while I lit the match, I was so excited by the sudden change in Mom’s demeanor.

  We sang while Tippy danced around us and barked. Brandy was quick with the candles, blew out the flames with her eyes closed and a formidable wish left hanging in the air.

  If she hadn’t asked for Mom to be like this all of the time again, Brandy would have made a dire mistake.

  Mom kicked our butts at Gin and then gave us some pointers at poker while dinner sizzled in the oven. I was thrilled not to be cooking, but also excited about the menu Brandy had chosen for her special night; frozen pizza and Doritos, a rarity in our home.

  We gorged off pink paper plates and at one point remembered to get the Birthday Princess tiara out of the closet for Brandy, a tradition we had carried on since she was seven and Mom found it at Kmart.

  Another round of cake brought us misery in the form of stomach aches, but Mom egged us on to continue with the party. At eight o’clock she presented Brandy with her gifts and together we sang again.

  “This has been the best night, Mom. Thanks for the party. And the cake—wow, Luce, you could go pro with that!” Brandy said as she sat in front of her unopened presents.

  Jealousy struck as my sister opened her largest gift first. She gasped, “Mom!” as she pulled back the tissue paper, beaming. Brandy held up the new winter coat, and it hit me hard that in it she would be leaving the house, going out with the kids from church, attending school, and running errands with Mom. In that coat, Brandy would have a life.

  Here, in this house, I would inherit her old clothes and shoes, study the homework some faceless teacher had already graded. Brandy co
uld go sledding down the hill in our front yard, attend bonfires and hayrides, bike to school if she missed the bus. And I would remain in the kitchen, waiting for her to return home, hiding when someone else came to the door.

  I had always heard that life in France was much more fascinating than this.

  “It’s beautiful, Brandy.” I complimented her. I did not want to let my sister feel the envy that vined through my heart.

  “Oh, my goodness! I just love it!”

  Mom made us all hot chocolate while Brandy continued to open gifts. She picked up a small box from Tippy and unwrapped it to find matching accessories for her coat: a faux fur hat-and-glove set.

  “These are going to be great when it gets colder! Can you imagine how warm these are?”

  I held a glove to my face and cherished the softness on my cheek.

  “Lucy? You got me something, too?” Brandy winked, grabbing the last package.

  “Of course. I’m an excellent shopper.” I would have winked back but for my swollen eye.

  The gift was rather hefty, fatter than the coat box, but a bit narrower. I raised my eyebrows in anticipation and was excited to see that I had given my sister a new backpack. Bulkier than the one she used for school, this pack looked ready for a camping trip or a hike across Europe. France, even.

  “This is excellent, Luce. Thanks.” Brandy said and then turned her attention to Old Mom. “It’s all fantastic.”

  “Well, don’t bother putting it away. We’ve only got three and a half more hours until you’re emancipated. You’ll probably want to start packing.”

  She pulled the mug of cocoa to her lips, but I could have sworn I saw Mom smiling.

  New Mom. Back again. Or had she ever left?

  “I’m sorry, what did you say?” Brandy asked. I had never heard such panic in her voice.

  Even Tippy let out an exhausted groan.

  “You have three and a half hours until you’re eighteen. My contract is up the second that clock hits midnight. I suggest you start packing.”

  The air in the room shifted as Mom’s demeanor changed. Brandy looked to me, back to Mom, at the clock. Mom never even blinked.

  The hair on the back of my neck slowly crept up, as if the house teemed with ghosts and they had all just joined us at the table.

  “I don’t get it.” Brandy shook her head. “Is this a joke?”

  “No, Brandy, it is not. We’ve had our giggles here tonight and that’s your grand farewell. But this is the deal: at midnight I am done with you. You are no longer my child, you are no longer welcome in this house, you are no more burden of mine.” Mom sat her mug down hard. “This is what is NOT going to happen: as of midnight I am changing the locks on the doors and you will not be inside this house. Nor will you ever be again. If you don’t leave willingly, I will take you out by any means necessary.”

  Mom had just threatened her life. Brandy might not have understood New Mom, for she had had so few dealings with her. But I did. Her threats were not to be taken lightly.

  “This is what WILL happen: you and your sister are going to pack your new bag. I would suggest taking some extra tennis shoes, because you’ll probably be walking quite a bit. If you are done by eleven I will personally drive you to the Amtrack station and buy you a ticket anywhere you want to go, as long as you end up at least one thousand miles from here. I will give you three hundred dollars. And then we will be done with each other.”

  Neither of us had seen this coming. Brandy sat like a popsicle, stick-straight and frozen solid. The three of us sat in silence while Mom nursed her cocoa.

  “Hey, Brand, let’s get moving. We don’t have long to get you ready.” I pulled her arm, took the backpack out of her hands, and dragged her from her chair.

  “I don’t get it.”

  I led my sister to her room, watched her fold up on her bed.

  “Brandy, this isn’t a game. You’ve got to snap out of it. Please.”

  I opened her dresser and started picking through her underwear. Brandy was always cold, so I grabbed her thermals and thickest socks first.

  “But, Luce, she likes me. Why would she get rid of me?” Brandy broached one of our unmentionable subjects. We rarely discussed Mom’s favoritism.

  “Who knows? She’s not right anymore. Just get up and get moving. Don’t upset her. She seemed pretty serious, and after my problems with her this afternoon I don’t think you want to push her buttons.”

  “Where will I go?” My sister clutched her pillow to her chest and let the tears flow. “I don’t know anybody. I’ve never had a job. I haven’t even finished high school!”

  “Winter’s coming. Go someplace warm, like Arizona or California. Mom gave you the winter gear for a reason, but you need to make an excellent decision right now about where you’re going to live.” I hated taking the role of the responsible sibling. All of my internal alarms were screaming, and I kept promising them I would attend to their concerns once my sister was taken care of and on the road.

  Neither of us even suggested bringing in the authorities. We had spent so long following Mom’s rules and reacting to her fire drills that Brandy and I didn’t consider contacting outsiders.

  “Lucy, I can’t do this.”

  “Yes, you can. Now tell me which jeans are the most comfortable. Ones you can get long johns under and still fasten.” I held open her pants drawer and yanked out some denims.

  She finally came over and helped. We shoved as many clothes as possible into the bag, found a flashlight in my room, and rolled up a blanket that we tied under the pack. While Mom sat in her room casting spells, or whatever her constant muttering produced, I snuck into the kitchen and loaded Brandy up with some food.

  “I’m sorry, Luce.” Brandy wrapped her arms around me.

  “No, Brandy, don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything.”

  “I’m sorry you’ll be here alone with her.”

  I stared at my sister. I had been in such a race to get her going that I hadn’t even considered this consequence.

  “When she came home tonight I really thought that she had changed again. How stupid am I?” Brandy said.

  “We haven’t done anything wrong,” I reminded her.

  “Yeah we have. We were born!”

  “What else can we do?” I asked, still looking to Brandy for advice.

  “Kill her?” My sister suggested, crying.

  Despite the gravity of our situation, Brandy’s idea made me chuckle. Which in turn made me start bawling.

  “Or is it too soon for that?” Brandy muttered, glancing at her watch.

  I could barely hear her over our sniffling, Brandy’s words so inexplicable I knew I must have misinterpreted them. But Tippy jumped on the bed, joined us in a group hug until Mom yelled for us to come downstairs.

  They left the house a bit past ten, Brandy bundled for a Canadian winter, Mom humming a hymn as she opened the back door.

  When she spoke to me her black eyes forced me to look away. “You can sit outside with the dog.”

  I held my hand out to Brandy, a last wave, a goodbye, a desperate attempt to drag her back inside with me.

  “But don’t get used to it,” Mom snapped as she slammed the door.

  My insides dropped as I bid my sister farewell.

  * * *

  Mom returned within the hour. I met her at the back door, helped usher in the bags from Menards, and set them on the kitchen table.

  We didn’t mention Brandy.

  Just like that, my sister was gone. Erased. Eradicated.

  Escaped.

  Mom lilted about the house, singing to herself, petting Tippy, occasionally letting out a muffled chuckle. Once when she laughed I caught sight of her eyes and instantly felt her claws reaching through my back to rip out my spine.

  I wondered if Brandy had actually left the area. What if Mom had hurt her? Could she be in the cornfields somewhere between here and town? Would she run immediately to some authority figure and let them know I
was left behind? That France was simply the confines of these walls and Mom’s dwindling grasp on reality?

  My heart deflated. Brandy was proud and kept our family secrets to herself. She had too much loyalty to Mom. She would never turn her in.

  When Mom ventured back outside I put Tippy in my lap and prayed. For some reason I felt dirty inside, whispering to God. Talking behind Mother’s back, the fear crawling along my skin as though I was covered in thousands of scorpions. But Brandy needed help, and I fretted that she didn’t have the strength to ask for herself, let alone me.

  While I loved my sister, she had never understood the gravity of my situation. Because she had survived a few whippings and knew that eventually the bruises healed over, Brandy ignored a lot of the badness in our house. She went to school but never revealed our dirty secrets. Even at church, when she left for Sunday school or youth group, she could have suggested that someone look into my unexpected trip to Dad’s.

  My sudden visit with a father who didn’t exist.

  Brandy was hot headed. She would be freaked out and fuming, concentrating only on herself and the dilemma her birthday had created for her.

  For us.

  I listened while Mom installed the locks. Stood ramrod straight, staring out the open kitchen door, Tippy at my feet. My fists flexed open, closed. Mom crouched outside, hanging onto the brass knob, the door a giant eye exposing the moon-drenched yard.

  I stretched my fingers. Held my breath as the wind strode in to caress my hair, the fragrance of autumn filling the kitchen. Looked at the cornfield. Dared not look at my mother.

  My legs twitched, and I could feel myself making a run for it. Grabbing Tippy by her collar and yanking her into the curve of my arm. Slamming the door with my right hand as I leapt over the threshold, knocking Mom backward and onto the concrete. My head start would be small, but my agility and speed would nurture it.

  Over the sidewalk, into the backyard. Past the shed and old swing set. Into the corn. Into the darkness.

  “Done!” She said, curbing my getaway before I ever took a step. Mom checked her handiwork, then walked around me without a word to fix the front door.