MOTHER: A Novel

by Angel Gelique

  “I’m ready to go now,” Emma said, challenging Jane’s authority.

  “Then go,” Jane said resolutely, gathering her remaining shreds of strength. “Turn my television back on before you leave.”

  Emma’s jaw dropped down in disbelief. She became a little nervous, starting to doubt her abilities to control Jane.

  “I need to go to Sierra Gardens,” she said loudly, but not quite as confidently.

  Jane was pleased that her steadfastness seemed to be paying off.

  “If you need something,” she said slowly, looking Emma straight in the eyes, “why don’t you try asking politely?”

  “Whatever,” Emma panted. “I guess I’ll have to walk there.” She turned to leave the room, hoping that Jane would show some sympathy and offer to drive her.

  Jane couldn’t believe Emma was giving up so easily. She had half-expected her to lunge forward and attack. And as always, Jane’s heart sank, feeling sorry for Emma and worrying about her having to walk all alone, such a great distance. How would she manage? Was she just bluffing? Why did she have to go back to Sierra Gardens anyway? Should she ask her and risk another confrontation—or should she just let her do whatever she felt she had to do? Why was it that no matter how things turned out, she was the one who always felt anxious and stressed out? She could hear

  Emma shuffling about in her room. Then she heard Emma’s door slam and Emma’s footsteps trudging down the stairs.

  Jane ran out of her room as fast as she could and called to Emma from her the top of the stairs.

  “You sure you don’t want to just ask nicely? It would save you a lot of trouble,” Jane said.

  “I’m sure someone will stop and give me a ride over there,” Emma said, knowing full well that Jane would never allow her to hitchhike.

  “What? Are you insane? You can’t get in a car with a stranger!” Jane yelled, as she descended the stairs.

  “It’s not your problem,” Emma yelled back as she opened the front door and walked out, leaving the door wide open. She knew that Jane would follow her and would stop her. She knew that Jane would give in and end up driving her. She knew that Jane was weak—her puppet, easily susceptible to her manipulation. She walked along slowly, waiting for Jane’s plea for her to turn back.

  As if on cue, Jane stepped out and yelled, “Emma—wait!”

  Emma smiled to herself, then turned around, feigning an annoyed look.

  “What?” she yelled back.

  “Is it really that hard to be nice to me?” Jane asked sadly.

  “Are you going to drive me or not?” Emma asked, as nasty as ever.

  Jane nodded, with a lump in her throat. She knew it was a losing battle. Emma would never treat her with respect, and she, in turn, would always give in to Emma’s demands. It was just the way it was. Her love for Emma far outweighed her pride.

  Emma was in all of her glory. It was another victory for her. Jane could see the smug look on her face as she waited by the passenger side of the car.

  “Let me just get dressed quickly,” Jane said.

  “Let’s go now,” Emma insisted. “No one cares what you look like.”

  Another hurtful stab. Jane knew better than to argue. It was true anyway, who really cared? Eric was the first and only man to show any kind of interest in her since Gregory left, and that was probably only because he was horrified by the way Emma had treated her. He had pitied her.

  Jane ran her hand over her head to smoothen out her hair. She walked back to the entranceway and grabbed her car keys that were hanging on a nearby hook. With a soft sigh, she walked to the car, clad in just her flannel pajamas and slippers. She was glad that none of the neighbors were outside to see her.

  She unlocked the doors and climbed in. Emma climbed in next to her, looking straight ahead. She said nothing. Jane didn’t know if she should try to talk to Emma or just enjoy the silence. It was less likely that Emma would get physical with her in a moving vehicle.

  Being a glutton for punishment, she turned and spoke to Emma.

  “Why do you have to go back to Sierra Gardens?” she asked cautiously.

  At first Emma ignored her. She just stared ahead as if she hadn’t heard the question. Then, out of nowhere, like a delayed reaction, she responded.

  “To get my gifts,” Emma replied tersely, still looking ahead.

  It was progress to Jane, who smiled in spite of herself.

  “Why did you leave them behind?” Jane asked.

  “Because you abandoned me to go on a date with the creepy photographer, I wasn’t going to walk home carrying a sack of gifts,” she said belligerently.

  “It wasn’t a date, we just went for a quick drink,” Jane said, feeling the need to explain herself.

  “Whatever, like it matters...the point is you weren’t there for me, just like you weren’t there for me when I needed a ride getting there.”

  Emma turned her head to the right, away from Jane.

  “Oh, Emma,” Jane said softly, “you know I didn’t realize you needed me to drive you there. I’d do anything for you, you know that.”

  “Whatever,” Emma said under her breath.

  “I’m truly sorry, Em.”

  Emma said nothing. Jane reached over to touch her shoulder and Emma violently shoved her hand away.

  “Keep your hands off me,” she shouted, as she glared at Jane with her all-too familiar loathsome eyes.

  Jane kept her hands on the steering wheel for the remainder of the trip and said nothing more to Emma.

  When they arrived at Sierra Gardens, Emma got out of the car, slamming the door shut behind her. Without saying a word, she quickly walked into the building. Jane waited in the car, knowing better than to follow Emma. Besides, the last thing she wanted was to be seen in public looking the way she looked.

  After twenty minutes, Jane began to grow antsy. She couldn’t imagine what was taking Emma so long. She thought about calling Emma’s cell phone, but she had left her own cell phone at home in her purse. There was no way she would go into the building to see what the holdup was—not in her pajamas. She had no choice but to stay put and wait.

  Another ten minutes passed. Jane had no idea what to think. She wished she had her phone with her. She hated waiting almost as much as she hated being stuck in traffic. She turned on the car radio, hoping it would make the time pass faster.

  After another ten minutes, Jane knew something must be wrong. Did the place have a back door? Did Emma just sneak out, leaving her waiting there like a fool? It wasn’t very likely, since Emma had mentioned that she had a bag full of gifts to carry.

  The music wasn’t helping at all. In fact, it was aggravating Jane’s already-existing headache. Her stomach rumbled. On top of her usual abdominal pain, pangs of hunger struck hard. Hurry up, Emma, she begged in her head.

  Jane rested her head back upon the seat and closed her eyes. She wasn’t tired, but had nothing better to do. Moments later, she heard a car pull up next to her. Her eyes opened. It was a police car. Jane began to panic. Did something happen to Emma? Her imagination went into overdrive, flooding her mind with atrocities. Without thinking, she raced from the car. She followed the two police officers who had just begun walking toward the entrance.

  They looked at her as if she were crazy. She was certainly under-dressed, to say the least.

  “Is there a problem in there?” she asked anxiously.

  “Nothing major,” the shorter, stocky cop answered as he opened the door.

  “It doesn’t have anything to do with a sixteen-year-old girl, does it?”

  The two officers stopped and looked at one another.

  “Did your daughter come here a little while ago to pick up some

  gifts?” the taller cop asked. His tone was serious, as was his facial expression.

  “Y-yes,” Jane answered nervously, as her mind scrambled to imagine what could have happened.

  “Is she hurt? Is she okay?” she asked frantically.

  �
��She’s not hurt,” the shorter cop answered, as they entered. A woman approached them.

  “But she is in a lot of trouble,” the taller cop added.

  Seconds later, the owner stood in front of Jane and the officers.

  “I’m Carol DiBiasi, I’m the owner,” she said without a smile. She looked annoyed.

  “Where’s the girl?” the taller officer asked.

  “We have her just down the hall, to the right. Is this her mother?” she asked, glancing over to Jane and frowning when she noticed what she was wearing.

  “We think so,” the shorter cop replied as they walked down the hall and to the right.

  Carol opened the door to a room where Emma was being detained by a man dressed as a waiter. Emma began to shout out profanities as they entered. Jane was mortified. She had never heard Emma use such vulgar language.

  “Shut your mouth!” The taller cop ordered as he took a step forward.

  Emma instantly shut up. She gave Jane a dirty look then began sobbing.

  “What happened?” Jane asked uneasily.

  “Your daughter accused us of taking some of her birthday gifts. We told her we didn’t touch the bag, but she just got louder and louder, insisting that we stole gifts from her. Several of our staff members tried to calm her down, but she caused quite a ruckus. She ran into one of our banquet rooms where a bridal shower was being held and she started breaking vases and wine glasses.”

  Jane was clearly upset knowing that her daughter not only destroyed property but also ruined someone’s special occasion.

  “I am so sorry,” she said quietly. “Is there any possibility that someone may have tampered with the bag?” Jane was too used to playing the devil’s advocate on behalf of Emma. Carol seemed highly insulted.

  “I have a reputable business here, I don’t hire thieves,” she said

  with a sneer.

  “Ma’am, would you mind if we had a talk with your daughter?” The shorter cop asked Jane.

  Jane shook her head and Carol led her out of the room. The waiter followed them out and headed off in a different direction.

  “I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” Jane said to her as they waited in the hall.

  “You know I’ll have to send you a bill for the damaged property,” Carol said firmly. She was outraged at the way Emma had behaved. Whatever shred of sympathy she had remaining for her the night before was completely gone.

  “Just bill it to the card,” Jane said. Let Gregory deal with it.

  “You know,” Carol said, “there’s something really wrong with your daughter. You need to take her to a psychologist.”

  Jane hadn’t seriously thought about that, but it did seem like a good idea—if she could get Emma to go.

  “She used to be such a good, sweet girl, now she’s always angry,” Jane said.

  “Pardon me for being so forward, but why does she resent you so much?” Maybe if you’d stop going out in public wearing pajamas she wouldn’t be so angry, Carol thought to herself.

  “I think it’s because of my weight,” Jane said softly, looking embarrassed.

  Carol shook her head in dismay.

  “Kids are so foolish,” she said.

  From out in the hall, Carol and Jane could hear the police officers yelling at Emma. Jane knew she deserved it—and more—but it still tore at her heartstrings. She looked sadly at Carol.

  “I’m sure things will be fine,” Carol offered kindly. She felt badly for Jane.

  Everyone’s sure things will be fine, Jane thought, except me.

  “I hope so,” she said, and looked away. Her eyes became misty.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I have a couple of things to tend to. Please let the officers know that I’ll be in my office at the end of the hall if they need me,” Carol said, giving Jane some privacy.

  Jane nodded and Carol left. Jane pressed her ear to the door so that she could hear more clearly.

  “How could you say that about your own mother?” one of the cops was asking.

  “Because it’s true,” Emma yelled, “and I don’t care. She’s not my mother she’s just someone I have to live with until I can move in with my dad.”

  As if the repeated rejection wasn’t bad enough, Jane nearly cried out when she heard that Emma was thinking about living with Gregory. She couldn’t focus on anything else that they said, the mere thought of Emma moving out made her physically ill. She stooped down and sat against the wall, trembling. She felt as though she had finally hit rock bottom.

  One of the officers—the shorter one—came out into the hall a few minutes later.

  “Are you feeling all right?” he asked Jane, concerned. “You don’t look so well.”

  “I’m okay,” she said in a low voice just over a whisper.

  “Are you sure?”

  Jane nodded.

  “I can understand why you’re so upset. Your daughter is very hostile,” he said.

  Jane was silent. She looked lost in her thoughts.

  “Can I ask you a question?” he asked, unofficially.

  She hates me because I’m a fat pig, Jane answered in her head.

  “Is it possible that Emma might be on drugs?” he asked curtly.

  Jane looked up at him immediately. She looked insulted.

  “Of course not,” she answered without hesitation. “I know Emma’s been pretty bad lately, but it has nothing to do with drugs. We just haven’t been getting along.”

  “So I’ve heard. She said a lot of cruel things about you,” he said, feeling sorry for Jane.

  “I know, I’ve heard them all. She thinks I’m a fat, disgusting loser.”

  “It’s that age, teen angst and all,” he said, attempting to justify it somewhat for her sake. “But still, are you sure there’s no drug use involved?”

  Jane shook her head.

  “We can send her for a quick drug test—”

  “No!” Jane said loudly and adamantly. “I know my daughter is not on drugs.”

  “Okay,” the officer said, though he was convinced otherwise. They had searched her purse and found nothing, not even cigarettes

  or a lighter. Still, his gut feeling told him that she was taking some kind of drug.

  The taller officer emerged from the room, upon hearing the shouting.

  “Is everything okay, Mrs. Winston?” he asked.

  “Fine. Can we leave now?” she said, as she stood up. The officer’s accusation of drug use had gotten her adrenaline flowing. It made her greatly agitated.

  “You can go,” he said. Emma walked out of the room a moment later. She looked even more incensed than before.

  “This one needs more discipline,” the shorter cop added, nodding toward Emma. Emma rolled her eyes as she struggled to carry the bulky bag in her hands.

  Jane reached for the bag, attempting to help Emma. Emma jerked it away from her.

  “Leave it alone,” she commanded.

  Jane withdrew, humiliated that Emma continued to act this way, even in front of the officers. They looked at each other in disgust.

  “Remember what I told you,” the taller cop urged Emma. She shrugged her shoulders and continued to drag the bag toward the front door.

  “We’ll probably be seeing her again soon,” the shorter cop remarked to the taller cop.

  Jane opened her mouth to defend her daughter, but didn’t quite know what to say. She just hoped that their prediction would prove false.

  The officers headed down the hall to finalize their report with

  Carol.

  Emma dragged the big black bag all the way to Jane’s car. She left it by the trunk and climbed in the car. Jane thought about driving away, leaving the bag in the parking lot, but she knew that Emma would be furious. She walked around to the trunk, lifted the bag and threw it into the trunk, pushing down on it so that it would fit. She slammed the trunk shut.

  Normally, she would have taken care, in case there was anything fragile in the bag. Today, however, she couldn’t care
less and found herself wishing that she had broken everything in the bag. She was completely fed up with Emma’s bad attitude and embarrassing displays of teen-aged temper tantrums.

  Jane climbed into the car and began to drive home. Emma was playing with her cell phone.

  “I’m shutting off your cell phone service,” Jane said sternly, keeping her eyes on the road. It was an idea that just came to Jane when she saw Emma holding the phone. Maybe it would work—it was worth a try. Discipline was long overdue.

  Emma gasped and looked directly at Jane.

  “No you’re not,” she said defiantly.

  “Watch and see,” Jane said, keeping her tone serious and unwavering.

  “You’d better not,” Emma warned.

  “Or what? You’ll yell at me? Hate me? Slap me again? Threaten to move in with your father?”

  Emma was speechless. She didn’t really know what she would do if Jane followed through with her threat.

  “Why did you accuse the people at Sierra Gardens of stealing your gifts? That bag is full to the top,” Jane said, her eyes remaining focused on the road.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Emma said, pouting like a spoiled child.

  “I want to know,” Jane insisted.

  Emma had no interest in talking to Jane. She was still angry at her for everything that had happened and she knew that she would never forgive her. She hated Jane, didn’t want to associate with her in any way and fully intended to move out of the house just as soon as she could get in touch with her father. But for now, she figured she had better stay on Jane’s good side so that she wouldn’t disconnect her phone service. She absolutely needed her cell phone.

  Emma sighed heavily as though she were about to do something formidable.

  “Kelly brought me a gift that was in a box wrapped in red and silver paper. She had pointed it out to me at the party. I saw it on the gift table but it’s not in the bag, I checked,” she said worriedly.

  “I’m sure it’s still in there, maybe it’s all the way at the bottom of—”

  “I said I checked the bag,” Emma interrupted impatiently. “I emptied it out looking for that gift. It’s not there because one of those assholes stole it.”