MOTHER: A Novel

by Angel Gelique

  On Monday morning, Jane woke Emma for school as she usually did. Emma said nothing as she slowly sat up on her bed. Jane walked downstairs to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Twenty minutes later, she set two dishes full of fluffy scrambled eggs and sausage links down upon the table and placed four slices of bread into the toaster. Moments later, Emma entered the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. She pulled out a bottled water and turned to leave.

  “Breakfast is ready,” Jane advised, as she placed two slices of buttered toast on Emma’s dish.

  “I’m not hungry,” Emma said pointedly as she walked out of the kitchen. Jane followed her.

  “If you don’t want to eat with me, you can take your food up to your room but you need to eat,” she demanded.

  “I’m not hungry,” she repeated sharply and continued walking up to her room. Jane followed persistently.

  “Emma, you need to eat,” Jane began and was cut short when Emma abruptly stopped near the top of the stairs.

  “Why would I eat when I’m not hungry? You think I want to turn into you?” she yelled and ran the rest of the way up to her bedroom, slamming the door shut after entering.

  Jane knew she was fighting an uphill battle. She walked back down to the kitchen and started eating her breakfast. When she had finished everything on her plate, she pulled Emma’s plate in front of her and started picking at the scrambled eggs. Why waste good food, she thought, finishing everything on the dish.

  At 7:35 a.m., Jane walked up to Emma’s room and knocked on the door. Emma did not answer. Jane turned the doorknob, attempting to enter, but the door was locked. She knocked again, slightly louder this time.

  “Emma? It’s time to leave,” she said.

  Emma said nothing. Jane got another sick feeling in the pit of stomach. She had been getting them too often in the past few months, in anticipation of Emma’s hostility. This past weekend they had gotten even worse. She banged on Emma’s door.

  “Emma, open this door,” she ordered.

  Still, Emma said nothing. Jane took a deep breath struggling to stay calm. She was tired of Emma treating her like garbage. She was tired of being yelled at by her teen-aged daughter, disrespected, and cursed at. She was tired of being ignored by her. She pounded on the door with her fist.

  “Open this door right now,” she demanded loudly.

  “Just go to work, Jane, I’m getting a ride with Sarah’s mom,” Emma replied apathetically.

  “How long are you going to keep this up, Emma? Do you always have to be so hurtful?” she asked, losing her resolve.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Just go,” Emma said.

  “Emma, we need to talk, I can’t live like this,” Jane pleaded, long tears rolling down her face.

  “You’re going to be late for work Jane,” Emma said coldly.

  “Open the door Emma...please,” Jane begged, overcome with grief.

  “I don’t have anything to say to you. Just go already!” Emma shouted.

  Jane sat down in front of Emma’s door, crying like a lost child as she heard Emma’s cell phone ring. She could hear Emma’s muffled words—“I’ll be right there,” she had said, to Sarah, presumably.

  In less than a minute, Emma pulled her door open and nearly tripped over Jane on her way out. She had to grab on to the wall to keep herself from falling.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she yelled down to Jane, who didn’t bother looking up.

  “You’re pathetic, Jane,” she said scornfully as she stepped around her mother and ran down the stairs and out of the house.

  Jane sat there crying for a few minutes longer before gaining enough strength to get up and wash her face. No matter how badly she was feeling, she couldn’t miss another day of work. It was bad enough they were looking for any excuse to get rid of her. The last thing she needed now was to lose her job.

  For the next two days, Jane tried desperately to talk to Emma whenever she was home. Each time, Emma either snapped at her that she didn’t feel like talking or she ignored her completely. Either way, Jane got nowhere.

  At work on Thursday, Jane’s co-worker, Zachary, approached her. Zachary had been working for the company for nearly as long as Jane had and the two were good friends. Their families had often gotten together for dinner and barbecues or just to hang out. They had even vacationed together a few times. That seemed like ages ago to Jane, years back when she and Gregory were still married—well, married for real. Now her life had fallen apart and Zachary was going through his own set of difficulties with his wife Colleen.

  “Hi Zach, how are things going?” Jane asked flatly.

  “Same old crap,” Zachary answered. “How are you doing Jane?” he asked.

  His simple question almost caught her off guard. It had been a long time since anyone was genuinely concerned with how she was.

  She smiled narrowly.

  “I’ll survive,” she said.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like shit,” he said, not intending to be mean. Nor was Jane offended. She knew that Zachary was not trying to be hurtful. She had lost all interest in wearing makeup and fussing over her appearance. She had trouble sleeping at night and had dark circles under her sagging eyes. Lately she just pulled her hair back in a loose ponytail. She barely even cared whether her clothes matched.

  “I love you too, Zach,” she joked, and smiled in spite of herself.

  “Why don’t you and Emma come over for dinner?” he offered.

  Jane thought about it for a second. She would have loved that, but who was she kidding? Emma never ate with her anymore. She would never accompany her to Zachary’s house. The last time the two of them had been over for dinner was more than a year ago.

  “Thanks, Zach, but we can’t,” Jane replied gingerly.

  “Well why not?” Zachary asked pryingly.

  “Well, let’s just say that Emma and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms,” Jane answered.

  “She’s a teenager, that’s perfectly normal,” Zachary said. There was no way he could comprehend the magnitude of the situation. Yet, even though Jane knew deep down that it was not “perfectly normal” at all, hearing Zachary’s words restored some hope that one day she and Emma would be friends again.

  “We can’t, Zach,” she insisted and quickly added, “how’s Colleen?” before he could protest any further.

  “We’re splitting up,” he answered stoically.

  “Oh, Zach, I’m so sorry,” Jane responded, and was sincerely upset for Zachary.

  “Don’t be, you know we’ve had a lot of problems for a long time. It’s better this way, then we won’t end up hating one another. Colleen’s moving to New Jersey with Scott at the end of the school year.”

  “Are you getting divorced?” Jane asked.

  “I’m sure we will in time. For now, we’re just separating. I’ll see Scott whenever I can,” he said.

  Scott was thirteen years old and had a mild form of autism. He was a sweet boy and Zachary adored him. Jane couldn’t imagine how he could be happy with such an arrangement.

  “How’s Scott accepting everything?” she asked, thinking about how badly Emma had dealt with Gregory’s abandonment.

  “We both talked to him and explained that we love him and that we’ll both be here for him. He seems okay with it, I guess.”

  “Emma still blames me for Greg leaving,” Jane said and looked downcast.

  “That’s because she doesn’t know the whole story,” Zachary said, placing his hand on Jane’s shoulder. He had always felt terribly about what happened to her. While she had been forthcoming about Sue and the baby, she had never spoken badly about Emma. All she ever told Zachary about Emma was that she was hurt and angry about the breakup.

  Jane always seemed sad. Zachary had just assumed that after all this time she still harbored feelings for Gregory. Little did he know that Emma was actually the cause of Jane’s misery.

  “Don’t you think she’s old enough t
o know the truth now?” he asked.

  “What good would it do, it wouldn’t change a thing now,” Jane answered somberly.

  “Does she really believe that Greg left because you gained weight?”

  “Yep,” Jane nodded slowly.

  “That’s asinine,” Zachary added. “You have to set her straight, Janey.” Jane’s eyes began to mist. Zachary was the only person aside from Gregory who called her “Janey.” He was like a brother to her and Jane often thought about telling him how truly bad things had become between her and Emma.

  “Maybe I will one day,” Jane said unconvincingly.

  “Come over tonight,” Zachary urged. “Colleen and Scott will be there, it won’t be a date,” he teased and Jane grimaced mockingly.

  “I’ll try,” she promised.

  “Speaking of dates, when are you going to start dating again?”

  Jane looked at Zachary in amusement. Last year she had contemplated dating a new co-worker, Kevin. She had approached him one morning and asked if he wanted to go to lunch with her.

  “There’s a new place down on Thorpe Street,” she had suggested. Kevin looked horrified at the thought of going anywhere with her. He fumbled with papers on his desk as his mind raced to find a good excuse to decline her offer.

  “Oh, well, I...I...you see, oh, well, it’s just that...the thing is....”

  The thing is, you just don’t date repulsive fat women, Jane thought, and let him off the hook, figuring she’d made him squirm long enough.

  “Don’t worry,” she interrupted his stuttering gibberish, “I didn’t mean it as a date, silly,” she lied. “I thought maybe you and I and

  Zachary could catch a bite to welcome you to the office.”

  Jane could almost hear his sigh of relief. By this time his face had turned beet red and he was visibly sweating.

  “Oh,” he chuckled, “that sounds nice.” So Jane had treated Zachary and Kevin to lunch that afternoon and sat around listening to the men talk about sports almost the entire time. Zachary had tried to include her in the conversation at least, but it was readily apparent that Kevin wanted nothing to do with her. Jane nearly shuddered at the memory as she thought about the absurdity of Zachary’s question.

  “I don’t think so,” she replied, almost shyly, and attempted to change the subject.

  “Why not Janey?” he persisted.

  Jane sighed heavily.

  “Well, for one thing I’m still married,” Jane answered.

  “So? Did that stop Greg?”

  Jane shook her head.

  “Do you still love him?”

  “No, of course not,” Jane said without hesitation, and she meant it.

  “Then why not, Janey?” he asked, expressing genuine concern for her happiness.

  Jane shook her head in disgust.

  “In case you haven’t noticed Zach, I’m not exactly Miss America,” she said sorrowfully, as she lowered her eyes.

  Zachary smiled and gently lifted her chin up so that she would look him in the eyes.

  “I’ve known you forever, I’ve seen you at a hundred pounds when you were too skinny and I see you now, overweight, yes, but as beautiful as ever.”

  Zachary’s voice was gentle and loving and Jane lost her battle to hold back her tears.

  “I mean it, Janey. You’re the most beautiful person I know,

  inside and out. If I didn’t think of you as a sister, I’d date you myself!”

  Despite the heavy flow of tears, Jane smiled as she looked gratefully into Zachary’s grey eyes. Zachary had always been so wonderful and kind to her, even when Gregory would put her down in front of everyone, Zachary would always stand up for her.

  “Thanks, Zach,” she said as she stood up to hug him.

  Zachary pulled a chair over to sit by her side and the two talked for a while longer. Before returning to his office, Zachary renewed his dinner invitation.

  “Please try your best to come, with or without Emma,” he said. Jane had not mentioned how badly Emma had been to her.

  “I really will try. I have to pick up Emma’s dress for her party.”

  “Hey, I almost forgot about Emma’s birthday, you know, since we weren’t invited....” he said, half-jokingly. “When and where is the party?”

  Jane shrugged and then looked embarrassed.

  “Emma made the plans, I honestly don’t know when it is, let alone where it is or how she’s even paying for it.”

  “Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said the two of you weren’t speaking! Are you saying she hasn’t invited you?” He asked, hoping that wasn’t the case.

  Jane shook her head sadly. In an instant, her brief retreat from sadness ended and she sat there looking pitifully distraught, though she did not cry.

  Zachary wanted to stay and talk some more, but Jane had some calls to make and a meeting to get ready for.

  “I’ll talk to you more tonight,” he said obstinately as he left, shaking his head in disbelief.

  Jane pulled herself together and continued her day. Only a few more hours, she thought, eyeing the clock. She did not think about Emma or the party for the rest of the afternoon.

  ~5~

  On her way home from work, Jane went to the seamstress and picked up the dress. It truly was a stunning dress. The peach color was soft and feminine. During the drive home, Jane wondered how Emma would react to having her dress back. Would she be the least bit grateful? Jane already knew she wouldn’t be. She could imagine her shouting, “it’s about time!” as she snatched it out of Jane’s hand and rolled her eyes. Jane had a feeling of sheer dread as she drove closer to her house. If Emma wasn’t home, she would just leave the dress on her bed. It was probably best to avoid all contact with her. The less interaction, the less chance there was that they would argue. Or rather, the less chance that Emma would insult and criticize her.

  Jane pulled into the driveway and slowly walked to the front door. Her stomach felt as though someone had plunged a knife into it. She could barely walk. She managed to make her way to the kitchen, dress in hand, and propped herself up against the closest breakfast bar stool. Emma seemed to appear out of nowhere, arms flailing wildly as she rushed toward Jane.

  “Really?” she shouted, as she yanked the dress out of Jane’s hand. “You were just going to take a nap on my dress?” She looked at Jane with revulsion.

  “I wasn’t going to take a nap, I’m in pain,” Jane tried to explain.

  “You probably ate too much...again,” Emma said, insultingly and walked up to her bedroom, dress in hand.

  Jane was in too much pain to feel hurt or sorry for herself. It hurt to take full breaths. She thought about driving herself to the hospital, but decided against it. She hated hospitals. She was only twelve when her mother had died of breast cancer. She remembered the long, sad days she had spent at the hospital during the weeks before her mother’s death. Her mother had told her to be strong, to be brave; that she would always be with her. She said that she would always watch over her. Where is she now, Jane wondered, feeling a wave of resentment flood her emotions.

  Yet, unlike Emma, she could never truly be angry with her mother, even through the painful years that followed her death. Jane knew her mother didn’t choose to die. She had always been a sweet, loving mother and Jane had worshipped the ground she walked on.

  Jane had grown up believing that somehow her mother was, in fact, watching over her and gently guiding her along. She had always thought that her mother had been the reason she met Gregory. Now she questioned everything she believed. Why would her mother want her to experience such pain and anguish? Had she grown too old...or fat...for her mother to continue watching over?

  She could no longer even think. The pain intensified as she fell off the stool and onto the floor. Without even thinking, she called for Emma. She called and called and waited and waited, hoping that Emma would come to her assistance. Emma either did not hear her or intentionally disregarded her cries for help. Jane had a si
ck feeling that the latter was the case. She propped herself up on her elbows, praying for the pain to subside. It seemed to only get worse. She closed her eyes and drifted off.

  About an hour later, she awoke to Emma kicking her side. She felt disoriented, but at least the pain was mostly gone. She wondered what time it was and looked groggily at the digital display on the microwave. It was already 7:22. Had she really been on the ground for over an hour?

  “What, are you drunk?” Emma asked degradingly. “Thank God my friends aren’t here,” she said and opened the refrigerator.

  “No I’m not drunk,” Jane said, as she pulled herself up. “I was in pain. I fell off the stool and called for you.”

  “Well you’re fine now, right?” she answered, showing absolutely no concern.

  “I guess...it would have been nice if you had helped me, or at least shown a little bit of compassion.”

  “I didn’t even hear you,” Emma lied. She had heard her mother pleading for her help but chose instead to turn her music up. She figured her mother was fine. It was probably just a ploy to get some undeserved sympathy.

  Jane didn’t push the issue. She felt much better now.

  “You didn’t even make dinner,” Emma whined, as she slammed the refrigerator door shut.

  Jane could hardly believe her insolence. How was she supposed

  to make dinner when she had passed out on the floor? She almost said as much but held back. She was in no mood for another shouting match.

  “What would you like to eat?” she asked, instead.

  “Nothing, I’m not even hungry anymore,” Emma said bitterly.

  “What? You just said—”

  “I just said that you didn’t make dinner, not that I wanted to eat,”

  Emma interrupted angrily. “Besides I don’t want to get fat,” she added cruelly.

  Jane looked at Emma. She looked even thinner than the last time she recalled Emma giving her five minutes of her time. She was pale and her usually plump, rosy cheeks seemed sunken in. She looked unhealthy.

  “My God, Emma, have you lost more weight?” she asked, concerned.

  “Yes I have,” Emma said proudly, smiling for the first time in months. The short-lived smile contorted into a scowl as she added, “you should try it sometime.”