MOTHER: A Novel

by Angel Gelique

  “What are you doing here?” she yelled out at the top of her lungs.

  “I just wanted to make sure you were okay...I noticed you had tried calling me,” Jane said nervously.

  “And who’s this?” the photographer interrupted. He had seen how Emma had acted toward her friends all night and didn’t want to miss an opportunity to embarrass her. He was grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

  “Hi,” Jane said softly with a thin smile, “I’m Emma’s mother.”

  The photographer snapped a picture of Jane and was about to suggest a mother-daughter shot when Emma abruptly stood up, pushed the table forcibly away from her and into Jane and shouted, “THAT FAT BITCH IS NOT MY MOTHER!”

  The music stopped playing. The room was so silent you could hear a pin drop. All mouths, except Emma’s and Jane’s, dropped open in shock. After ten long seconds that seemed like an eternity to Jane, the whispering started. Everyone was crowded around them. Emma just stared at Jane with eyes that were so venomous, Jane

  couldn’t bear to look at them. Even the photographer looked concerned as he stood frozen, with his camera to his side.

  Jane didn’t want to cause any further scenes. She turned to leave. Emma picked up a small vase full of flowers and flung it violently at her. It struck the back of her head and knocked her down to the floor as everyone gasped incredulously, horrified at what they were witnessing.

  “What is wrong with you?” Kelly yelled out from somewhere in the crowd, which by now had grown louder. The photographer helped Jane up as he leered at Emma, making sure that she kept her distance.

  As if to justify her actions, Emma shouted “she wasn’t invited, she shouldn’t be here.”

  The whispers grew to agitated chatter and several of the kids retrieved their belongings and left. Even the dee jay stopped playing and started packing away his equipment. Emma looked at the photographer who was talking quietly with Jane. To Emma, Jane looked pathetic, rubbing the back of her head and crying softly. She was shaking her head as the photographer spoke. Emma was sure Jane was saying something like, “my daughter is no good,” when actually, Jane was declining the photographer’s offer to drive her to the hospital. He was certain she must have suffered a concussion.

  Emma stormed over to the two of them. Instinctively, the photographer stood in front of Jane as if to protect her. Jane was touched by the gesture and at the same time mortified that her abuse had now become such a public display.

  “Oh, what? Like I’m the monster? She’s the one who weighs a thousand pounds,” Emma yelled, sounding childish and ridiculous. The shocked, angry stares she received made her retreat back to the head table where she sat down, burying her head in her crossed arms and sobbing loudly for sympathy. No one was moved by her theatrics.

  “I’m okay, really,” Jane tried to assure the photographer who was genuinely concerned. His evening had gone from dreadfully dull to frightfully chaotic in a matter of minutes. He led her to a more quiet area and offered her a seat. Jane sat down. She was still trembling from all of the excitement. As she glanced over at Emma, she felt terrible for ruining her evening and thought about approaching her again. The photographer gave her a look that warned her that she

  should just stay put. He felt responsible for what had happened.

  “Stay right here,” he ordered, “I’ll be right back.”

  Jane watched as he strode off, careful to keep her eyes off Emma, who was really over-doing it with the crying act. As kids walked past Jane, most of them conveyed their sympathy and apologized on behalf of Emma. Kelly went so far as to give her a quick little hug.

  “I’m sure she didn’t mean it, Mrs. Winston, she’s been like that with all of us lately,” Kelly said softly.

  “Thank you,” Jane said and lightly squeezed Kelly’s hand to emphasize her appreciation. Kelly was a familiar face to her, as were most of the kids there. She had known many of them for years. Some of them she hadn’t seen in years, and others had been frequent guests in her home, at least until Emma’s bizarre behavior started.

  The photographer returned carrying two cups full of fruit punch. He handed a cup to her and she thanked him. She took a small sip and then set the cup down in front of her. She looked over at Emma who was still crying, though not as loudly now since her attempt at sympathy drew no one to her side.

  “She’ll get over it,” the photographer said with a half-smile.

  “I don’t know what to do—whether I should try to console her or just leave,” Jane replied.

  “Give her time, she’ll be apologizing to you in no time.”

  “Huh!” Jane involuntarily exclaimed, thinking that it would be more likely for Emma to stab her with a kitchen knife than apologize to her.

  “I take it you two haven’t quite seen eye to eye in a while,” the photographer said.

  Jane nodded. She was hesitant to open up to this stranger, no matter how nice he was being to her...and....Jane took a close look at the photographer, surprising herself as her cheeks began to slightly redden and warm up. He was really handsome. Jane hoped that her blushing wasn’t too obvious in the dim lighting. The photographer laughed.

  “I’m Eric,” he said, extending his hand out to her.

  “Jane,” she said, feeling too embarrassed to add, ‘nice to meet you.’

  “Let’s get out of here, get a real drink,” he offered.

  Jane was perplexed. Why was this handsome guy asking her out?

  Of course, she rationalized, out of sympathy. She pulled herself

  together, feeling a bit insulted, and began to stand up.

  “Is that a yes?” Eric joked, following her lead.

  “No...um, Eric...thank you for the punch and for helping me tonight. I have to get home,” Jane said flatly.

  “Don’t rush off,” he pleaded. “I’d really like to take you out for a drink. Just one drink—I won’t keep you out late.”

  Jane looked into his deep, dark eyes, then at his warm smile.

  She could not resist. Even if was just out of pity, what else did she have to do tonight?

  She smiled and nodded as they walked out of Sierra Gardens together.

  She started walking toward her car when Eric motioned to his mid-sized SUV and suggested that they take his car instead.

  “I’ll drive you back to your car, don’t worry,” he said, when Jane suggested that she follow him in her car instead. Once again, she gave into him and followed him to his car. He opened the passenger side door for her and she entered, thinking that he was quite the gentleman.

  Eric started the car and began driving. Jane did not notice that Emma had followed behind them and was staring out at them from the window.

  “I know this great little place not too far from here,” Eric said. He was glad that he left and pleased that Jane had accompanied him. Jane was silent. She was lost in thoughts of Emma and how terrible things had become...just when she thought things couldn’t get worse.

  “I’m not a psychic but I bet I know what you’re thinking about,” Eric said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood.

  Jane smiled. Eric had been a Godsend. She had no idea what she would have done if he hadn’t been around. And who knows what Emma might have done if he wasn’t around.

  “It’s hard not to think about it,” she said and looked down quickly. Even in the dark car, Eric’s eye had an intense brightness that made her feel like a shy schoolgirl on her first date.

  “We can talk about it, if you’d like. I’m a good listener. Or we could just talk about other things.”

  “It’s a long story. I wouldn’t even know where to begin. I’m sure it’s just an awful phase she’s going through.”

  “I’ve been to a lot of sweet sixteen parties and the birthday girls are always thrilled to be photographed. Your daughter acted like I

  was bothering her the whole time. I didn’t get many good shots, if any. I don’t think she even cracked a smile.”

  “She was so excited about this p
arty, I have no idea what put her in such a bad mood,” Jane replied. “Probably me,” she added.

  “You didn’t do anything but show up. Or is that what it’s about—you were late?”

  Jane let out a small chuckle as she listened to detective Eric piece together the puzzle of her screwed-up life.

  “I wasn’t even invited at all,” she confided.

  “What?” Eric asked in disbelief. “Wow, I guess there are major issues between you two.”

  “Yeah, she hates me,” Jane said, with quiet resignation. She put her guard up. She had cried enough in front of her new friend. She was determined to be strong and keep her emotions at bay.

  “I hope I’m not being too nosey...where’s her father?”

  “He left us a couple of years ago,” Jane answered.

  Eric nodded.

  “I figured he wasn’t around...since you’re not wearing a wedding ring,” Eric commented.

  Jane smiled again, mostly to herself. So, he checked to see if I had a wedding ring on, she thought, greatly amused. Eric saw her smiling, which struck him as a bit odd, given the topic.

  “I guess you’re over that,” he smiled back.

  “Oh yes, definitely so. I walked in on him and his little fling—right on our bed!” Jane exclaimed. It didn’t bother her at all to talk about it, as it used to, long ago. She was the victim, he was the unfaithful one, the one who destroyed their marriage.

  “Well, for what it’s worth I’m sorry, you seem like a really nice lady,” Eric said, sincerely.

  Jane was deeply moved. She could hardly believe that in the midst of all her pain and suffering, a knight in shining armor had emerged to safeguard her sanity. Even her abdominal pains had been reduced to little more than a nervous feeling.

  “Thanks, Eric,” she said. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you helping me through this mess.”

  “I’m sure everything will work out for the best,” he said optimistically.

  “I feel better already,” Jane said, and for the moment, it was the truth, though she knew that alone at home, she would feel quite

  differently. For now, she relished the reprieve.

  “So Jane, I hope I won’t make your boyfriend jealous, taking you to a bar and all,” Eric said as stoically as possible.

  Jane laughed to herself. Why couldn’t he just come out and ask if I’m in a relationship, she wondered.

  “No more than your boyfriend will be,” she answered jokingly.

  Eric looked confused for a moment, as though perhaps Jane hadn’t comprehended his question. Then he saw Jane burst out laughing and joined in.

  “A comedian, huh? Well I’m glad you’re feeling better cause we’re here,” he said, as he pulled into a parking spot.

  Eric walked around to let Jane out of the car. She wondered if he was always so thoughtful or whether she was getting special treatment because of the horrific night she had at Sierra Gardens. Either way, she was greatly impressed.

  They entered a small bar called “Murrays.” In many ways, it was typical of most bars—dark, noisy, and reeking of beer. Yet, it had a certain charm too. It was nicely decorated and had several beautiful photographs hanging on the walls. Jane commented on one photo in particular.

  “Wow, look at that one,” she said, pointing up at a photograph of raindrops splashing against the petals of a deep crimson rose. It was simple, yet beautiful, the dark and monochrome colors contrasted nicely against the deep red hue of the flower.

  “It’s one of my favorites,” Eric said, “I took that one just out of college.”

  “You took these photographs?” Jane asked in amazement.

  “Not too shabby, huh?”

  “They’re gorgeous! They seem out of place hanging in a bar.”

  “My brother bought them for twenty dollars each and chose to hang them here. He says it gives his place distinction.”

  “It certainly does! So this is your brother’s bar,” Jane stated instead of asking.

  Eric nodded. They walked over to the bartender.

  “Hey Sean, where’s Ryan tonight?” Eric asked.

  “He took the night off, said something about Long Island,” Sean, the young bartender answered.

  “That’s right, he’s meeting with the Fishers this weekend. Oh,

  I’d like you to meet my friend Jane,” he said.

  Sean looked at Jane, checked her out from head to toe and seemed surprised that Eric was associating with her. Though he didn’t intend to be rude, his reaction was incredibly conspicuous. As Eric narrowed his gaze upon him, Sean quickly shook Jane’s hand and said, “it’s nice to meet you, Jane.” The facetious smile he wore on his face said otherwise.

  Jane smiled nonetheless and simply said, “likewise.” She was used to dealing with pretentious, condescending people. It hardly bothered her at all anymore, although she was a little embarrassed that it happened in front of Eric.

  “What would you like to drink?” Eric asked Jane, hoping that Sean hadn’t upset her.

  “I’m not a big drinker,” she started to say, and Sean snickered. It was obvious that he was laughing at her. Of course she was a big drinker. Everything about her was big.

  “You like working here, Sean?” Eric asked angrily and Sean maintained his composure.

  “I’m sorry man, I just—”

  “Just get me a Bud, and get my friend here a....” he looked over at Jane who was clearly embarrassed.

  “I’ll have a Heineken,” she answered dryly.

  They walked to the end of the bar where there were two rows of small tables. Most of the tables were taken. They found one near the very end and sat down across from one another.

  “I’m really sorry about Sean, he can be a real ass,” Eric said.

  “That’s okay, I’ve gotten used it,” Jane said, hoping that the topic would change.

  “For what it’s worth, I think you’re beautiful,” Eric said so entrancingly that it brought tears to Jane’s eyes. For a brief moment she was speechless.

  “I mean it, Jane. I’m not like other men who see women as objects, I look beyond appearance. You’ve got the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen. It’s a shame they’re always spilling tears,” he said sweetly.

  “Eric, you’ve been so kind to me. You make me feel like a normal person again.”

  “You shouldn’t ever feel abnormal, no matter what people might say. They’re ignorant and hurtful,” he said, reaching across the table to take her hands in his.

  “I feel like my whole life spiraled out of control before I even knew what was happening. My weight, my marriage, my relationship with my daughter...it’s all gone downhill,” she confided.

  “You can work on getting things back under control, not with your ex, hopefully,” he joked.

  Jane smiled. His sense of humor was refreshing.

  A thin, dark-haired cocktail waitress in a tight-fitting mini dress brought over their drinks.

  “Hi gorgeous,” she said to Eric with a wink.

  Jane wasn’t sure what to make of it.

  “Ellen, this is Jane, Jane, this is my sister Ellen,” he said, and they both laughed. “Ellen loves to tease my dates.”

  “Not that there have been many dates,” Ellen quickly added.

  Jane laughed. It was a nice exchange between a brother and a sister and Ellen didn’t seem the least bit disappointed by Jane’s weight. If she was, she certainly didn’t show it.

  “So your sister works for your brother...that’s great,” Jane said.

  “Oh, she fills in sometimes, she’s not always here. She’s into real estate.”

  “So do you sell your photographs to art galleries?”

  “I used to, now I’ve been so busy at weddings, sweet sixteens, bar mitzvahs, etcetera,” Eric answered. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve have a weekend to myself. What do you do for a living?”

  “I work at an insurance company.”

  “Do you have any other kids?”

  “
No...thank God!” Jane said, with a small laugh. “Do you have any kids?” she asked.

  “Nope. No wife, no kids, no pets,” Eric said, waiting for the “you’re not gay, are you?” comment that often followed.

  Jane figured he wasn’t gay, but did wonder why he never married. Maybe he had commitment issues. Maybe he just never found Miss Right. Maybe he was weird. No way, she corrected herself, he was too cute to be weird!

  “What’s on your mind?” he asked, noticing the faraway look in her eyes.

  “I’m just glad to be here. I can’t imagine how miserable I’d be at home. I’m dreading my encounter with Emma later tonight...or tomorrow if she spends the night with a friend.”

  “I know she’s a teenager and all, but she seems so hostile to

  everyone—even her supposed friends. I don’t remember my sister going through anything like that. Did you, as a teenager?”

  Jane shook her head slowly. Her parents wouldn’t have put up with that for a minute. She had always been respectful and mild-mannered. She couldn’t imagine treating anyone the way Emma did—especially not family members—not people she loved.

  “Maybe she has boy troubles,” Eric said, smiling impishly.

  “I wouldn’t know. She’s like a stranger to me now.”

  “You still need to stay involved and on top of things, otherwise she’ll walk all over you,” Eric warned.

  “I guess I’ve failed then, because she definitely walks all over me already,” Jane said solemnly.

  Eric felt badly about the situation Jane was in, but felt out of place to continue lecturing her about child-rearing. Who was he to give advice when he never so much as cared for a plant or goldfish before. Jane was playing with her hands nervously. He hoped he hadn’t made her feel awkward.

  “I’m sorry if I’ve stuck my nose where it doesn’t belong,” he said, and Jane smiled.

  “You’re fine,” she assured him.

  “I don’t know if it helps you to talk about things or just depresses you more,” he said honestly.