MOTHER: A Novel

by Angel Gelique

  “Well I hope you do lose it, because you look really dumpy,” Emma said, trying to be more honest than hurtful, but hurting Jane’s feelings nonetheless.

  “I didn’t realize I had become dumpy,” Jane said.

  Emma reached over to Jane and grabbed a hold of the fat rolls around her waist.

  “Really, mom, this is disgusting,” she sneered.

  Jane pulled back quickly, feeling disgusted with herself. It was hard to believe that she was once a model. Without saying a word, she walked into the kitchen and pulled out a garbage bag. Emma entered behind her just as Jane opened the freezer and started tossing out cartons of ice-cream and boxes of ice-cream bars.

  “Mom, what are you doing? I eat those too, you know,” Emma yelled.

  “Well, since I’m so disgusting, I’d better get rid of all these tempting sweets so that I won’t gain any more weight and become even dumpier,” Jane said, both angry and hurt.

  “That’s not fair to me—I don’t need to go on a diet,” Emma

  whined.

  Jane continued to grab sugary snacks off the pantry shelves and shove them into the garbage bag.

  “Why should I suffer just because you’re a fat pig without self control?” Emma shouted, and Jane stopped in her tracks. Emma had never in her life been so disrespectful to her and Jane was shocked and hurt. She didn’t even know how to respond and stood there frozen for almost a full minute before dropping the garbage bag.

  “Here, Em, put them all back. I wouldn’t want to deprive you,” Jane said calmly and walked out of the kitchen.

  Emma felt pangs of guilt for speaking to her mother that way, but she also felt something else, something even stronger, more empowering: triumph. She got to keep her sweet treats. She thought about apologizing, but felt she didn’t need to. She was thirteen now, almost a grown up, and her mother was the one who was acting irrationally, after all. She fished out all of the snacks from the garbage bag and put them away. Then she went to her room and wrote in her diary about how good it felt to “straighten out her mom.”

  Jane was in her room as well, looking at herself in the mirror. She could hardly recognize herself and was shocked that she had changed so much in such a short while. No wonder Gregory cheated, she thought to herself. More than anything, she wanted to go back downstairs and grab a bowl full of ice-cream. She knew she had to work on losing all of the excess weight. She thought about the look on Emma’s face as she grabbed her flabby waistline and called her disgusting. Jane fought the urge to cry. She turned on her television, climbed into bed and lost herself in a meaningless show.

  Over the next few months, Jane made an effort to lose the weight. She was eating healthier and even went for walks now and then. She had lost some of the weight; she was down a full size and felt proud of her small accomplishment. It frustrated her how easily the weight packed on and how difficult it was to shed the pounds. She shared her small weight loss victory with Emma, who merely rolled her eyes and said, “whatever.”

  Jane understood that Emma was going through a rough time and had decided to be patient with her. The last thing she wanted on her hands was a rebellious teenager. It was bad enough that Gregory

  barely acknowledged her existence unless someone else was around.

  They had done a decent job shielding Emma from their problems, but lately, it was as though Emma sensed that they were unhappy. She had asked why they no longer did things as a family and they had lied, saying that they were just too busy. It was another reason that Jane allowed her to do just about anything she wanted—she felt guilty for being unable to give her a real happy family. Gregory seemed to work later and later and sometimes Emma didn’t see him at all, except on weekends.

  Jane had somewhat gotten used to the idea that they were “married but separate,” yet nothing could prepare her for the news Gregory bombed her with just after Emma’s fourteenth birthday.

  “Sue’s pregnant,” he said outright, without apology or remorse.

  “What?” Jane asked, hoping she misheard, but knowing all too well what was happening.

  “Sue’s three months pregnant. She wants to keep the baby,”

  Gregory said, as though blaming Sue for his predicament.

  “You barely said ten words to me in a month, and now you’re telling me your girlfriend is pregnant?” Jane asked, trembling.

  Jane felt betrayed all over again. She had known her marriage was over, and she had accepted her role as the “ghost wife” to a husband who simply ignored her day in and day out, yet the news hit her hard. It felt as though a brick wall had collapsed onto her, knocking the air out of her lungs. She struggled to catch her breath. She had to sit down and make sense of it all. After walking in on them, Gregory had promised not to see Sue again, and even though they never reconciled their marital relationship, Jane assumed Gregory had been truthful to her. She never thought that he had continued seeing Sue. She really never thought much about what

  Gregory had been doing. Her only concern had been her job and Emma. She had never forgiven Gregory, but now, knowing that he had impregnated his girlfriend, Jane knew she would grow to hate him.

  “I’ll stay here until Sue gives birth, and then I’m leaving,” Gregory informed her.

  Jane looked up at him, bewildered.

  “So you’ll just leave? Just like that? What are you going to tell

  Emma?” Jane asked, feeling waves of nausea as she spoke.

  “I’ll leave that to you, you can tell her what a bad husband I am,

  I’m sure you will,” he said nonchalantly.

  “I wouldn’t be lying, even if I did, but I wouldn’t do that. She deserves an explanation from you,” Jane said, taking a slow, full, deep breath to ease the nausea and calm her nerves.

  Gregory just shook his head. It was clear that he had no intention of preparing Emma for his abandonment. Nor did Jane feel that it was her place to clean up his mess. She was not going to tell Emma that her father was planning to leave them, and she was certainly not going to reveal the reason why.

  “Why don’t you just leave now, why wait? You’re hardly ever home anyway,” Jane asked, almost hoping that he would agree.

  “I still need to find a place for us to live. You’re not going to throw me out on the street are you?”

  “Have I ever?”

  “Face it, you were right, our marriage is over. There’s no point in continuing on this way,” Gregory said emotionlessly.

  “And whose fault is that, Gregory? Who destroyed this marriage?”

  “It doesn’t matter who’s to blame, it’s beyond repair now.”

  “Not that you ever tried to repair it—even after I found out about your little tramp—”

  “Her name is Sue,” Gregory interrupted, “and she’s not a tramp, she’s a very nice girl.”

  “Girl, yes...at least that part of it is true. How old is she anyway? Sixteen, seventeen?” Jane asked sarcastically.

  “She’s twenty-four, not that it’s any of your business,” Gregory replied irritably. “Besides, what was the point of even trying? You said you’d never forgive me, and I knew it was true. You couldn’t even look me in the eyes. All you care about—all you ever really cared about—is Emma anyway.”

  “So what, you’re jealous of your own daughter now? Of course I care about her. She’s all I have now, isn’t she?”

  “I don’t want to argue, I just thought you should know. I’ll be gone in a few months, no more than six,” Gregory said and turned to leave the room.

  “Well good luck with your new life,” Jane spat at him with contempt as she forcibly brushed past him and walked to the kitchen.

  There were no more thoughts of diet, of losing weight, of eating healthy...all there was now was an emptiness that could only be

  soothed by food. She reached for a box of snack cakes that she had purchased for Emma and her friends. She started to take one, but as she heard the front door slam and saw Gregory entering his car, she grabb
ed the whole box and took it with her to her bedroom. She wanted to both scream and cry, but for some bizarre reason, all she could do was laugh. This was certainly not how her life was supposed to go. She had such potential; she could have been a supermodel. Now she was nothing more than an overweight single mother. She reminisced about her long lost childhood and young adulthood days, all the while munching on snack cakes. When she had finished the box, she walked back to the kitchen to get a drink. Emma was standing there with the phone to her ear, looking through the pantry.

  “Mom, where are the fudge cakes?”

  “I think they’re all gone,” Jane replied, hoping that her despair wasn’t apparent.

  “What? I only had two, how could they be gone? Did you eat them?” Emma said, accusingly.

  “I might have eaten a couple, I don’t know, Em, take something else.”

  “God, really mom, aren’t you fat enough?” Emma yelled back.

  Jane could hear laughter coming over from whomever Emma was speaking with. Emma started complaining to her friend about how pathetic her mother was as she walked back to her room.

  Jane stood there silently, thinking about how badly her life had gotten. She had a husband who didn’t love her and a daughter who had absolutely no respect for her. How did things get this way?

  When had things changed? She and Emma had always been so close. How did she lose her? Jane grabbed a can of Coke and was about to walk upstairs but stopped. There were a couple slices of apple pie left. Why not bring it along? It won’t leave me or criticize me, Jane thought, grabbing a fork and taking the whole pie pan with her. She had no idea what to tell Emma about Gregory’s plan to abandon them—or whether she should say anything at all. Maybe Sue would have a miscarriage or they could break up. Why upset Emma unnecessarily?

  So Jane said nothing and continued living the role of happy wife and happy mother in her make believe life.

  Four months and nearly sixty-five pounds later, Gregory packed up and left as he had forewarned. The worst part was that he said nothing at all to Emma. He didn’t even bother to leave a note offering an explanation, whether true or fabricated. Like a big coward, he packed up while Emma was at school and was gone before she came home. He called Jane at work to inform her that he

  was out of the house and that she could tell Emma whatever she wanted because it was apparent that she had turned their daughter against him anyway. Jane almost laughed at the absurdity of that statement. Emma was a teenager in the midst of physical and emotional changes—she barely spoke to Jane except to criticize her and complain. If Gregory had made even a de minimis effort to be a decent father, he would have known that Emma’s attitude toward him did not stem from Jane. Emma may not even have acquired her ever-present foul attitude if he had been a supportive, loving father. Jane said nothing to Gregory and just hung up on him. At this point, she felt nothing toward him and was almost happy that he was finally leaving. At least there would be no further anxiety over whether he would abandon them and/or when.

  It took Emma nearly two weeks to even realize that Gregory was gone.

  “Mom, is Dad on a business trip?” she enquired one evening before going to bed.

  “Actually, Emma, I think it’s time we had a little talk about your father,” Jane said, not quite knowing where to begin or what to say. Emma glared at her mother, correctly sensing that bad news was about to follow. Jane motioned for Emma to join her at the dining room table and Emma slowly took the seat across from her.

  “Where’s Dad?” Emma asked bluntly, as if somehow she now gave a damn.

  “You may not have noticed, but your father and I have not been getting along—things have been bad between us for a long while,” Jane began.

  “Are you getting divorced?” Emma asked quietly, sounding more like a scared child than the ill-tempered teenager she had been just moments before.

  “I’m sure it will come to that,” Jane said with sigh.

  Suddenly, a violent change overcame the soft-spoken girl who sat before Jane and Emma banged her fist on the table. She stood up so

  abruptly that the chair fell backward onto the floor.

  “How the hell did you screw things up? What did you do?” Emma shouted, enraged.

  “Calm down, Em, and please stop talking to me like that. I didn’t do anything, we just grew apart.”

  Jane was tempted to tell Emma about Sue—“the other woman”—but what good would that do anyway? It would not undo things or make Gregory return home. Jane believed that in time Gregory would explain it all to Emma. It was his burden, not hers.

  “People don’t just grow apart. The only thing that grew is you, you fat, disgusting pig. No wonder Dad left, you’re so freaking gross,” Emma yelled furiously and ran upstairs. She slammed the door to her room while Jane sat with her head buried in her hands, crying. She thought about going up to Emma’s room and trying to talk things out with her, but she figured Emma just needed a little time to adjust.

  Days, weeks, months all flew by and Emma treated Jane as the enemy. She eyed her with hatred and disgust. Every time Jane attempted to speak to her, Emma left the room. Sometimes they ate dinner together, silently. Mostly Emma came and went as she pleased. When she wanted or needed something, she left Jane a note. Gregory never returned to the house. He never called Jane. He never called Emma. All the while Jane hoped and prayed that things would get better, that somehow Emma would talk to her again, befriend her again…be her daughter again…love her again.

  Now, a year and a half later, not much had changed—at least not for the better. Emma had grown even more distant. Her grades in school had dropped significantly and she had started staying out past her curfew. Every time that Jane tried to discipline her, Emma would basically laugh in her face and tell her to get lost.

  Emma was quickly growing into a beautiful young woman. At five feet, seven inches tall, she was an inch taller than Jane now and had an incredible body, although Jane thought she was too skinny. Jane knew it was only a matter of time before Emma found a boyfriend—if she didn’t have one already—and Jane wanted to be able to speak openly with Emma about boys and sex. The last thing she needed was for Emma to get pregnant. Yet, her attempts to talk about even everyday things were always met with hostility and

  Emma always walked away from her. She had once written a note to

  Emma, hoping that it would prompt them to communicate better with one another. She found the note crumpled up in the garbage pail the next day and was uncertain as to whether Emma had even bothered to read it.

  Last week, Jane was delighted when Emma graced her with her presence at dinnertime. She even made “small talk,” commenting about the weather and the “nice” blouse Jane was wearing. Any other person would have been leery and would have seen Emma’s conversation for what it was. Not Jane. She was thrilled that Emma was finally speaking to her; she didn’t care what they spoke about. It was nice to have a moment together without tension, stress, insults and criticism. A moment without angry words and tears and doors slammed at the end. A moment when, Jane hoped, mother and daughter could reconnect.

  It went well for all of seventeen minutes. Then Emma changed the topic to her upcoming birthday.

  “I’m going to be sixteen years old, finally!” Emma exclaimed with a big smile.

  “I know, it’s hard to believe. You may think it took forever but I think it went way too fast,” Jane said, feeling a surge of sadness invade her moment of joy.

  “You know, all the girls have big sweet sixteen parties. What are we going to do for my party?” Emma asked.

  “That’s still over two months away,” Jane replied.

  “Well you’ll need to reserve a place, you can’t wait for the last minute. There are a lot of plans to make,” Emma said cautiously.

  “Em, you know since Dad left, we’ve been living on just my income and it barely gets us by. We really can’t afford—”

  “What?” Emma interrupted in a loud, angry voice. “
There’s no way you’re going to tell me that you’re not having a sweet sixteen party for me,” Emma yelled in a threatening manner.

  “Of course we’ll have a party, it’s just not going to be so fancy,” Jane said calmly, hoping to placate Emma and wishing the subject would change.

  “So what kind of party are you planning? A party here at home with my friends, a bowl of chips and party bags at the end? Are you going to get balloons and have us play pin the tail on the donkey too? For God’s sake, Jane I’m not six anymore!”

  “When are you going to stop calling me Jane? When are you going to be the sweet, respectful girl I once knew?” Jane asked sadly.

  “Never! I’m not a girl anymore. And if you want respect why don’t you try showing some once in a while?” Emma said harshly.

  “When do I ever disrespect you? I give you your space, I don’t discipline you nearly as much as I should, I pretty much let you come and go as you please trusting that you exercise common sense and good judgment. I do your laundry, I give you money you don’t even earn through chores, how exactly is it that I’m the disrespectful one?” Jane asked, defying Emma to find an answer.

  “Don’t try to change the subject,” Emma yelled, knowing that her mother was right. “I’m going to be sixteen...it’s an important milestone in my life,” Emma pleaded in a tone that was more whiney than angry.

  “Don’t you think I’d love to throw a grand party for you and give you everything you want and more? But we have to be realistic. I’m a single mother now and—”

  “That’s your own fault. If you didn’t eat everything in sight and become the nasty fat loser that you are, Dad wouldn’t have left. It’s all your fault and I hate you,” Emma shouted, the words stinging Jane as Emma stood up, shoved her chair aside violently and walked out of the house, slamming the door behind her.

  Jane wondered why she had been foolish enough to think, even for a second, that she and Emma could actually have a decent conversation without it turning sour in the end. She realized that the only reason Emma had even started the conversation was because she wanted something—and not a small something—a big sweet sixteen party. Jane was so hurt and angry at the moment that she wasn’t going to plan anything for Emma’s birthday—not even a party at the house. Emma didn’t deserve anything after all the hurtful things she had said and the hostile way she always behaved. Jane was ready to give up on ever having her daughter back again.