MOTHER: A Novel

by Angel Gelique

  “Thanks for the moral support,” Jane said, with a thin smile. Zachary winked and walked back to his office.

  Jane survived the rest of her shortened work day. On her way home from work, she stopped off at the bank to withdraw some money. She filled her car with gas, bought nearly a week’s worth of groceries, and picked up a pretty birthday cake for Emma. Feeling guilty about not leaving balloons in Emma’s room last night, Jane stopped off at a party store and bought a bunch of brightly colored balloons, party decorations and a sappy birthday card.

  After putting away the groceries, she decorated the dining room with streamers and balloons. She filled out the birthday card, professing her great love for Emma, stuffed two hundred and fifty dollars in it, sealed the envelope and placed the card propped up against the small pretty box on the table.

  The thought of Emma on drugs dominated Jane’s mind. No matter how busy she tried to keep, how distracted she hoped to stay, her thoughts always returned to distasteful images of Emma doings drugs. Even the antacids were ineffective to relieve Jane’s abdominal pain. A number of times she came close to passing out from the intense pain. Each time she remembered that she hadn’t yet made an appointment to be seen by her doctor. Yet, she didn’t take advantage of the opportunity to do so.

  Not long before Emma was expected to arrive home, Jane entered her bedroom to search for evidence of drug use. Jane knew it violated Emma’s privacy and had resisted the idea of doing so all afternoon, but desperate times called for desperate measures. She needed to know one way or another.

  Jane first rummaged through Emma’s dresser drawers. She didn’t find anything out of the ordinary. She looked around her nightstand, in her closet and under her mattress. To her great relief, the search yielded nothing. Then again, Emma might have the drugs in her purse or school locker.

  Just before leaving the room, Jane thought about looking through Emma’s computer. She hoped it wasn’t password protected. She pulled the chair forward to take a seat. There, just behind the mouse, was a small plastic bottle. She picked up the bottle and read the label: Zenadryne. It was a popular over-the-counter diet aide. It was also dangerous and had allegedly caused several deaths. Jane panicked as she rushed out of Emma’s room with the bottle in her hand.

  It became clear that Emma was trying to intentionally lose weight despite the fact that she was skin and bones and needed to gain weight instead. Jane emptied the bottle onto her bathroom counter top. She counted the remaining pills and found that there were eighteen pills left. The bottle held forty pills. Had Emma really ingested twenty-two pills? And how long had she been taking them?

  Jane ran down to the kitchen and pulled out her address book from one of the drawers. She reached for the phone and dialed Emma’s pediatrician.

  “Wilton Pediatrics,” answered a woman on the other end.

  “May I please speak with Dr. Stein?” Jane asked anxiously.

  “He’s busy with a patient, is there something I can help you with?”

  “No, I need to speak with Dr. Stein,” Jane replied frantically. She was on the verge of tears.

  “I can leave a message for him and have him call—”

  “No, please, it’s an emergency,” Jane said, nearly hyperventilating. “My daughter may be in danger.”

  “I’ll see if he can come to the phone,” the woman said dryly. Every parent always thought their “emergency” was most pressing and required the doctor’s immediate attention. More often than not,

  it was a waste of the doctor’s time. Dr. Stein hated to be interrupted while he was with a patient. The office assistant, Becky, was sure to feel the brunt of his annoyance. But the parent on the line sounded so scared, so worried...maybe it really was an emergency this time.

  Becky knocked on the exam room door and explained to Dr. Stein that he had a frantic parent on the line insisting to speak with him right away. Dr. Stein, an overweight, balding man just over sixty years old, exhaled deeply through his mouth, in an exaggerated way, to express his heightened displeasure with the interruption. He apologized to the patient’s mother and promised to be back in a few minutes. He walked swiftly to his office and picked up the phone.

  “This is Dr. Stein,” he said angrily.

  Jane let out a sigh of relief.

  “Dr. Stein, my daughter’s been taking diet pills,” she exclaimed quickly and fearfully. “She’s only sixteen and she’s skin and bones, and come to think of it, she’s been skipping meals too, and she—”

  “Calm down, please,” Dr. Stein snapped. “First of all, with whom am I speaking?”

  “Jane Winston, I’m Emma Winston’s mother.”

  “What exactly did your daughter take?” he asked as though he was being bothered.

  “Zenadryne,” Jane replied.

  “How old is your daughter?” he asked, astonished that one of his juvenile patients could have ingested such a harmful drug.

  “She’s sixteen today,” Jane panted.

  “Oh, no, she shouldn’t be taking diet pills,” he said disapprovingly.

  No kidding, Jane thought. She couldn’t believe that was his only response.

  “How many has she taken?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” Jane answered honestly.

  “What do you mean you don’t know?” the doctor asked angrily.

  “I didn’t know she even had them, I just found them in her room. What do I do?” Jane asked frantically.

  “Take her to the hospital immediately, they’ll do some blood work and determine what’s in her system. Too many pills can be very dangerous, Mrs. Winston. It could cause her to go into cardiac arrest,” he said somberly.

  Jane’s own heart began to race as she feared the worst.

  “Mrs. Winston? Are you still there?”

  “Y-yes,” Jane stammered nervously.

  “Will you take her to the hospital?” he asked.

  “She’s not home yet,” Jane said nervously.

  “I should think a mother would be a little more concerned than that!” he snapped.

  “I am concerned, that’s why I called,” she said defensively.

  “Where is your daughter now?”

  “I...I’m not sure...she should’ve been home from school by now,” Jane sobbed quietly as she spoke.

  “Does she often disappear after school?”

  “Yes...no...sometimes. Sometimes she goes to her friend’s house.”

  “Well doesn’t she tell you when and where she’s going?”

  “No, not really, I’m not usually home until about 5:30 or so.”

  “Great parenting,” Dr. Stein replied sarcastically. “It’s no wonder the girl’s got issues.”

  Jane was emotionally wrecked, but Dr. Stein’s statement struck a nerve. She lost her temper.

  “Now you listen to me,” Jane yelled into the phone, “I take enough crap from my daughter, I don’t need your criticism as well.

  It’s not easy being a single mother. I’ve tried to—”

  “Mrs. Winston,” Dr. Stein interrupted in a loud, booming voice. “I’m not your psychologist, I suggest you find that child and take her to the hospital as soon as possible,” he yelled, then abruptly hung up.

  Jane felt weak, as though she were about to pass out. She returned the phone to its cradle. Her head was killing her. She didn’t know how it was possible, but her abdominal pain worsened. Yet, somehow her own pain took a back seat to the concern she felt for Emma.

  A spark of hope glimmered faintly as Jane remembered that she had restored Emma’s cell phone service. She quickly dialed Emma’s number and prayed that she would pick up. The call went straight to her voicemail. She hung up, feeling hopeless. Emma probably didn’t even bother to turn the phone on. Or maybe it wasn’t charged. Jane cursed herself for not telling Emma in advance that her phone would be on again today.

  She dialed Emma’s cell phone again and left a brief message: “Em, it’s mom, please call me at home as soon as you get this, it’s
>
  very, very important...please Em....” She hung up knowing that Emma wouldn’t return her call, but she had to try anyway.

  Jane desperately racked her brain, hoping to figure out a way to find Emma. Then she remembered seeing Emma’s address book in her room. Maybe she could call her friends and find out if they knew where she might be. Jane ran as quickly as possible back to Emma’s room and pulled the address book out from the drawer in her nightstand. She brought it downstairs with her.

  She sat at the dining room table as she flipped through the pages. She recognized most of the names in the book. Many of them had been good friends to Emma during her middle school years. Clearly, this was an older address book, and most likely outdated. Jane correctly assumed that Emma no longer had a need for an address book since she had her friends’ phone numbers and information stored on her cell phone. Still, there were a quite a few friends she still hung out with and Jane intended to call them all, hoping to find out where Emma was.

  Jane first called the number listed for Sarah, but it was a non-working number. She then dialed the number for Emma’s friend Brianna.

  “Hello?” A woman answered on the third ring.

  “Hi, may I please speak with Brianna?” Jane asked politely, concealing her grave concern.

  “She’s not home, who’s calling?”

  “Is this Mrs. Harris?”

  “Yes,” Brianna’s mother answered.

  “My name is Jane, I’m Emma’s mother,” Jane stated, hoping that Brianna’s mom would remember Emma.

  “Oh, yes,” Linda Harris exclaimed. “Is everything alright, Jane?” she asked, wondering why Jane was calling her daughter.

  “I’m just trying to find Emma,” Jane said shakily.

  “Brianna is at the mall with her sister,” Linda said. “I don’t think she and Emma spend much time together these days,” she added, feeling somewhat relieved about that, seeing as how Emma’s mother had no clue as to her whereabouts.

  “Can you do me a small favor...can you call Brianna and see if she might know where Emma is?” she asked Linda.

  Normally she wouldn’t concern others, but she felt so desperate to find Emma. After a brief hesitation, Linda agreed and said that

  she would call her back if Brianna had any helpful information.

  Jane continued calling Emma’s friends, hoping to catch a break. Since it was an old phone book, the numbers were home telephone numbers, not cell phone numbers, and Jane was unable to get through to anyone else.

  It was nearly four o’clock on a Thursday evening. Exhausting all of the contacts in Emma’s old address book, Jane didn’t know what to do next. She sat on the couch, frozen with fear, waiting for Emma, praying over and over in her head that Emma was safe. Emma was her only thought, her sole concern. She didn’t even notice that she was burning up with a fever.

  ~19~

  Emma and Sarah sat across from one another at the donut shop near their school. At Jane’s suggestion, Sarah had approached Emma during lunchtime to “fish for information.” She had nervously said “happy birthday, Emma,” and waited for Emma to yell at her to “get lost” or “drop dead.” To her surprise, Emma threw her arms around her and sobbed as she apologized profusely for “being such a bitch.” Sarah forgave her immediately. She missed Emma too, at least the Emma who used to be sweet, kind and caring. It looked as though she was finally back. Sarah said she would treat Emma to her favorite apple cider donuts and hot cider while they “caught up with life.” After all, nearly a full week had gone by since they last spoke.

  “You know, the whole point in coming here was so that I could treat you to your favorite donut and cider and I’m the one stuffing my face while you sip water,” Sarah complained.

  “I’m just not hungry,” Emma replied, “but thanks anyhow.”

  Sarah shoved the last piece of donut into her mouth.

  “I get hungry just looking at you,” Sarah said, with a full mouth. “You’re all bones.”

  “That’s not true, I’ve still got baby fat all over,” Emma said, disgustedly.

  “Baby fat? Where? Under your fingernails?”

  Emma grew visibly upset as she remembered what her father had said about her having a sister.

  “What’s wrong, Emma?” Sarah asked, setting down her cup of cider.

  Tears streaked down Emma’s eyes as she fought to suppress her remaining tears.

  “My father,” she said, then blew her nose. “I have a baby sister.”

  “What?” Sarah asked, shocked to hear the news.

  “My father has a girlfriend and they just had a baby. A girl named Katie. And no one would’ve even said anything to me if I

  hadn’t asked to move in with him.”

  “Oh my God! I can’t believe you have a baby sister!”

  “My dad doesn’t even care about me anymore. He doesn’t want me to live with him.” Emma sobbed quietly, burying her face down into the palms of her hands.

  “I’m sorry Emma...I had no idea,” Sarah said sympathetically.

  “Where does your dad live anyway?”

  “I don’t even know,” Emma mumbled, “I haven’t seen him in about two years. If he didn’t have the same job, I wouldn’t even know how to get in touch with him.” She wiped her face and sat up tall, looking grimly at Sarah.

  “That’s really screwed up, Em. No wonder you’ve been so bummed out.”

  “I hate my life,” Emma said flatly.

  “How can you say that? I’ve always been jealous of you,” Sarah confided.

  “Of me? Why?”

  “For one thing, you’re gorgeous,” Sarah said and Emma smiled thinly. “You live in a nice, big house, your mom loves you and gives you everything you want....”

  “Huh,” Emma exclaimed. “Jane’s been a total bitch lately,” she complained.

  “I don’t want to upset you, I know it’s a sensitive issue for you and I don’t want you to think that I’m taking sides. But Emma, you are so unfair to your mom. Just by calling her Jane it shows that you don’t respect for her at all.”

  “I don’t,” Emma agreed.

  “But why?” Sarah asked. She couldn’t understand how Emma could be so mean to a mother who so obviously loved and cared for her. Was there something she didn’t know about Mrs. Winston?

  “Because she’s a fat loser,” Emma said angrily. Sarah could see that she had touched on a bad subject, but there was no turning back now. She had to know why Emma hated her mom.

  “But why do you hate her so much?”

  “Because she’s a slob,” Emma yelled, attracting attention from the people around her.

  “No she’s not, Emma. And even if she was, that’s no reason to treat her like that.”

  Emma was growing increasingly angry and impatient. Sarah

  could see that she was about to walk out. She needed to diffuse the situation, and fast.

  “You’re my best friend in the world,” she said calmly. “I want to help you.”

  Emma felt sad all over again. Lately, it seemed as though she didn’t have any control over her feelings. One minute she was sad, the next angry, then sad again...everything but happy. Today was the first day she’d felt good all week, and it was only because Sarah started talking to her again.

  “You don’t know what it’s like,” Emma said sadly.

  “What what’s like? Does she hit you?” Sarah asked curiously. What was the terrible, dark secret?

  “No, never,” Emma said.

  “I didn’t think so. Does she make you do all the chores around the house?”

  “No, it’s nothing like that,” Emma said, trying hard to rationalize her hatred.

  “Then what?” Sarah asked. She was out of guesses.

  “She’s just fat,” Emma said, stressing the word ‘fat’ with utter contempt.

  “That’s all?” Sarah asked, “seriously?”

  “It’s disgusting...it’s embarrassing...I’m ashamed of her,” Emma admitted.

&nbs
p; “You think she wants to be overweight?” Sarah asked.

  “She used to be skinny,” Emma argued, “then she got all fat and gross and made my dad leave.”

  “Did she tell him to leave?” Sarah asked, playing the devil’s advocate.

  “No, but he left because of her, because she was so nasty.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because it’s obvious. Everything was fine when she was skinny. Then everything turned to shit when she got all fat and dumpy. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why,” Emma said.

  “Okay, even if you’re right, even if your dad left because your mom gained weight, I still don’t see why that would make you hate her. You know she didn’t set out to hurt you,” Sarah said quietly and took a sip of her cider.

  “But she did anyway, whether she intended to or not. It’s all her fault that I don’t have a father now,” Emma said in a shaky voice.

  Her lips began to quiver and she shut her eyes tightly to prevent more tears from spilling. Her head hurt so much already. It would be unbearable if she cried any more.

  Sarah could tell how much Emma was hurting. She felt awful for her. Yet she still wasn’t convinced that it was Jane’s fault. Emma was blaming her mother for her dad’s abandonment. Sarah thought about Gregory. He had always made her feel uncomfortable.

  Sarah was one of those girls who developed early. When she was thirteen, she could easily pass for eighteen. She was tall, blonde and thin, with a beautiful porcelain complexion and clear green eyes. From the time she developed breasts, Gregory began to show a greater interest in her. Whenever he was around, he would make a point of lingering close to her, asking if she had a boyfriend, offering to drive her home. At Emma’s thirteenth birthday party, he snapped more picture of her than he had of Emma. It was all too weird for Sarah, though she never said anything to Emma, or anyone else for that matter. But now she thought it was her duty as a best friend to help Emma change her perspective.

  “You know Emma, your father could have—should have—visited you and kept in touch with you, no matter what. You know that’s not your mom’s fault,” Sarah said cautiously.

  “It is her fault, Sarah, you don’t understand, she kept him away from me, she probably threatened him or something,” Emma said anxiously.