by Lowe, T. I.
John Paul shakes his head with a deep frown furrowing his blond brows. “It ain’t funny.” I couldn’t agree with him more, but don’t admit this.
He sits sulking while he stares at his beer as though he wished it could heal his wounds, but I know it won’t. I grab the almost empty bottle out of his hand and begin heading inside the house. “I’ve got something much better than this nasty thing. I’ll be right back.”
I only hear him grunt in disapproval before shutting the door.
I grab two glasses from the cabinet, fill them full of milk, and place them in the freezer to chill while I head towards the covered dessert plates to search out something yummy. The kitchen smells of chocolate, sugar, and gooey goodness, so I know there is a bounty of treats to be had. I walk past the famous cookie cabinet and stop in my tracks. I feel the wicked grin tug at my lips and crinkle my eyes as a wonderful mischievous idea whispers to me. I turn back to retrieve my mother’s precious box of cookies. Luck has it that a new box is tucked on the shelf with a note from the baker sending his condolences. I spot a stack of sympathy cards at the end of the counter. I stuff this little note in the midst of the rest for Jean to discover after I’m long gone. Feeling quite impressed by my own self, I grab the two icy glasses of milk from the freezer along with the cookies and head back out. John Paul sits unimpressed on the swing until he gets a glimpse of the cookies and balks at me.
“Are you absolutely crazy?” he blurts out, looking like a kid about to be caught with his hand in the cookie jar. I have to laugh because this is close to the truth of the situation.
“They’re just cookies and milk, John Paul,” I say innocently as I hand him his frosty glass of milk. I take my place back beside him on the swing and, after tucking my glass between my legs, begin to open the box.
As I slip my finger under the edge of the seal, John Paul says, “You wouldn’t.” He eyes the box as though it’s going to detonate when I break the seal and blow up.
“Oh, but I did,” I sing full of silliness. I laugh as the seal comes free. I lift the first cookie out and give it a good long sniff. My mouth instantly waters from the nutty luscious aroma. I give my brother a big grin before shoving the entire cookie in my mouth. “So good,” I mumble with my cheeks poking out full of cookie, feeling like a chipmunk. I dramatically chew and moan as the chocolaty treat melts deliciously. The longer I chew, the more hints of goodness show up—first and foremost deep chocolate, then smoky toffee, and then nuttiness from the almonds and surprising notes of coffee.
“You are gonna be in trouble.” My brother croons in a whiny voice and I know he’s about ready to play along. We’ve had too much heavy tonight, and I think some silliness will do us both some good.
I wash it down with a big gulp of milk and let some trickle out the sides of my mouth for full effect. This sends him over the edge, and he begins laughing so hard the swing vibrates. I feel the tension finally relent in that laugh and it warms me.
“Alright now. Keep it up and you’re gonna get us both caught.” I laugh and I cram another cookie in as he stares at me. Cookie crumbs fall from my over-stuffed mouth as I try to speak. “Wook.” I pause to chew and swallow so I can form the words clearer. “I’m not getting up off this swing until this here box is empty. So you can either grab yourself one, or just sit there and keep drooling as I enjoy.”
“What the he…ck?” He corrects mid-word as he grabs up a cookie then hesitates. “You didn’t monkey around with these did you?” he asks, eyebrow raised.
“You just witnessed me breaking the seal.” I roll my eyes.
“I believe I witnessed your mother do the same that night.” He smirks knowingly.
I snatch the cookie out of his hand and cram it in my mouth.
He chuckles before grabbing up another one and following suit by shoving an entire cookie in at once. These babies are as big as my hand, just so you know. Before swallowing, he gives me a full chocolate teeth grin, and I know we might just be okay—for now anyway. We sit out on the swing until the sun hesitates around the edges of the new day and all the cookies and milk have been devoured.
Before heading back upstairs with a slight bellyache, I give him a big hug and tell him how much I love him. I have missed too many opportunities with my big brother. I’m beginning to see this, and I know I have really slighted myself. That stinking past sure has robbed me.
I sit on the edge of the bed in a dazed exhaustion. Oddly, I’m wired at the same time. I know all of these sporadic bouts of sleep are going to catch up soon and will wreak havoc on me. I dismiss this thought for now and scoop up the photos I swiped from John Paul’s room. As I flip through the images that have caused so much pain, I am compelled to go for a visit.
I ease back outside and begin my trek down the road. It’s a gray hue outside in this dim, dawn light and the sounds of the new day sing through the breeze. Birds chirp a morning greeting while a few groggy frogs croak out their sleepy grumbles. I agree with them but my feet continue to propel me forward until the pavement transitions to dirt and I find myself at the edge of Bradley’s field. It’s already lighter now with more of a pink shade filtering through the sky. The field’s wheat crop welcomes me as it lethargically sways with its heavy dew in the light breeze, perfuming the air in its earthly sweetness. A soft fog flickers and flows in a hovering manner around the area as I spot a few deer helping themselves to a quiet nibble near the right back corner. We barely pay each other any attention as I weave through the rows until I reach the spot. I kneel down on the damp soil and am almost engulfed in the crop as I relive the horrible accident. Flashes of that day slash through my mind, and I find myself clutching my stomach from the waves of pain. The deep rut has been smoothed and the ground has hidden all the evidence of the spilled blood and broken hearts of that day, but I’m not fooled. I know those secrets are still here and are whispering their repeated devastating confession. It admits it all with brutal honesty. My eyes sting and my nose throbs with all the right signs, but my tears continue their refusal to come forward and grant me relief.
I continue kneeling with my hands buried in the tainted soil. I’m lost in my memories until I hear a faint clicking sound. I look up in the direction of the sound to discover John Paul standing by the edge of the field with his fancy camera trained on me. I say nothing. I just continue to stare vacantly in his direction. He doesn’t acknowledge me either. The faint shuttering of the camera is rapid and I know he has at least taken a hundred photos by this point. I don’t know why I permit this, but I do. I turn my back away from him, sending my long, loose hair cascading over my face protectively and sit in this spot while I allow him to medicate his wounds through his creative outlet. If this helps to soothe his demons, I feel obligated to grant it to him.
The camera continues to capture me and the field as John Paul circles around. We mourn silently together in this eerie moment—him trying to capture something with me trying to release it.
The clicking fades with my brother departing just as quietly as he arrived. I mourn a while longer before going back to the house and falling into bed. I fade into a peculiar, calming sleep. My mind hovers on a thought before the morning disappears—calm before the storm.
~ ~ ~
A nagging knocking at the door summons me awake. Hoping whoever it is will go the heck away; I bury my head under the pillow and don’t acknowledge it.
“Are you okay in there?” The muffled nag of my mother’s voice yells on the other side of the door. I don’t move nor make an effort to answer her. Go away. I should have known better than that. I hear the door open and slam forcefully. Great. My pillow shield is snatched out of my hand, causing me to flinch in surprise. I’m about to peep an eye open, but decide against it when Jean snaps, “I’ve been knocking for ten minutes now. Are you going to hide in here your entire visit?”
I cannot muster up enough strength to deal with her, so I roll over away from her and stay silent. A low rumbling echoes of a nearby storm outsid
e. I can’t help but recognize the symbolism here. A storm’s a comin’…
“Don’t you think it’s time to get yourself cleaned up and come out and greet some of our company?” She is clearly becoming more agitated by the minute, which is evident in her sharp tone. I sure don’t feel like dealing with this right now.
I finally drag my exhausted butt out of the bed and, without a word, begin gathering things for a shower once I realize she does not intend to leave me be. I feel like a zombie, I’m so tired.
“You don’t know how to answer when spoken to?” Jean sounds like she is ready to explode. I turn towards her to finally give her a response, but I meet the fiery back of her hand across my face. I blink away the shock as my vision tinges red. No one is allowed to touch me without my permission, I remind myself.
“Why are you such a disrespectful—” Before she can spit another word out, my hand strikes out to return the favor. I call forth all of the pent-up hurt I have towards this woman and slam her cheek with all my might. I have never struck my mother before and can barely believe my actions now. Neither can Jean, she just stands here totally stunned. Tears spill out her eyes almost instantly as she rubs her red cheek. Mine stings its familiar sting and I’m satisfied that she is finally getting a taste of it herself. I don’t try to rub the throb of mine away. I know from experience it only makes the mark shine brighter, but I don’t share this with her. I want her to wear that angry mark in remembrance of this moment. It’s the moment that this mess comes to a stop. I’ve had enough.
“You have struck me for your last time,” I say through clenched teeth. It is all I can do to stay calm and speak evenly. “I’m a grown woman, and I will no longer allow you to abuse me.”
“Abuse?” she asks as if confused. “What the heck do you know about abuse?”
“Oh, I do believe I know too much about the subject of abuse. Between your vile words and twitchy palm and Evan Grey’s wandering hands, I do believe I’ve been taught a good bit about it.” My body begins to quake all over and the tingling seeps into my fingertips. I storm over to my suitcase and haphazardly down three Xanax with a bottle of water I brought up with me last night. My insides are screaming, and I feel close to coming undone.
“What on earth are you talking about with Evan?” Jean asks.
My eyes cut over at her and watch as she wrings her hands in what looks to be guilt at her lie of omission. “I’m talking about the man you left us with while you were out living your precious life. I’m talking about all that time that should have been spent making lasting memories with my mother. Instead, I had a sick man teaching me all I needed to know about sex.” It is all I can do not to scream, but I feel my control slipping. Jean flinches at this as though I’ve just struck her again. Good. She needs to feel the vile sting of the truth. I hurl the water bottle across the room, causing the remaining water to scatter along its trek. I’m coming undone and feel the demons fighting against my determination to not allow them victory. But it’s too late. I’m defeated. I take in a rugged breath and deliver another blow with my words. “Oh yes, he taught sweet Julia Rose all she would ever need to know about sex as well.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Her voice falters with another lie, and we both know it. My mother has always been an awful liar. Her lies come out in stutters. I’m so ready to slap the stutter out of her. I take a step away from her to try to control this urge. She’s scooting dangerously close in my direction.
“How could you not possibly know?” I’m irate at this point with my body jerking with uncontrollable tremors. “I know you remember coming home from your vacation that summer and noticing that Julia and I could hardly get out of bed. It definitely wasn’t the flu, Mother.” I have to sit back down on the bed because I’m trembling so badly. I run my hands aggressively through my knotted hair several times, trying to relieve some tension. I focus on the pain of my scalp from pulling my hair, hoping to gain some control. However, it’s not working. Jean says nothing, and really, what can she say? “It was from being raped over and over again by that devil. And you allowed it to happen.” I whisper this because it hurts too bad to say loudly. The admission that my family allowed such a thing to go unpunished cuts just as deep as the act of the abuse itself for me.
“How dare you talk like this to me now. My husband has just died, and you expect me to be able to deal with this?” She gestures towards me like I’m a distasteful chore and begins pacing back and forth across the bedroom floor. It hurts that she sees me as something to deal with and not her damaged daughter.
“Yes, it’s nearly twenty years past due. Because I’m sick of your constant disappointment in me when you’re the one who should be ashamed. You were the one who allowed some man to play porn star with your daughters while you were out enjoying your free time. I’m disappointed in you!”
“How can you talk to me this way?” Jean heads for the door, but I grab her arm.
“Why have you always hated me so badly?” I beg for an answer. “Why?” I feel like a confused, helpless child. I shouldn’t yearn for this woman’s love and approval, but I desperately do anyway.
“How could I hate you? You’re my child, Savannah. Of course I love you.” She looks at me as if I am completely stupid.
“What you have for me is nowhere close to love. I want an answer on why you never did anything about what Evan did to Julia and me?” I’m adamant on making her admit to not doing right by us. She keeps tiptoeing around admitting her wrong.
“I did what I thought was best.” She juts out her chin and crosses her arms in defense.
“What kind of crap for an excuse is that?” I yell and sling myself back down on the edge of the bed.
“It’s the truth. I was afraid if it got out what Evan did to you girls, authorities would take you away. I thought the best thing for us to do was to try to forget it happened.” She nods her head rapidly as if she is agreeing with herself on this convoluted idea. “I had no idea anything was going on until your father and I returned from that summer vacation. So I told Evan that if he came anywhere near my family again, I would kill him.” Jean collapses on the bed beside me.
She lays her head in her hands and continues to cry. The emotions of everything are too overwhelming. I hardly have the energy to continue, but this is my chance to get things off my chest. I can’t leave things the way they are. It’s time to set things straight with my mother, whether we like it or not.
“Do you actually think my sister and I could simply forget something so horrible?” I ask. “It near ‘bout killed Julia Rose.”
“I didn’t say I handled it right. I said I handled it the best way I knew how.”
“Then explain to me why you have always been so awful to me.” I need answers.
“I wouldn’t call it that. I’ve always been stern with you to make you stronger. It worked, didn’t it?” She sounds so convincing.
“Oh no, you don’t get credit for my strength. Only I do.” I continue. There’s more to get out, and I have all intentions of unloading it all on her. “I know I was a mistake. You’ve always made sure I knew it too!” I yell.
“Is that what you actually think?” Jean looks at me in disbelief.
“I know I’ve not dreamt the whole thing up. You’ve always been so much harder on me than Julia or John Paul. Why?” I come unglued and begin screaming. I’m pretty sure the guests think our world is falling apart up here. Thunder pounds through the yelling in agreement.
“Because you’ve always had so much potential, but you’ve chosen to waste it.” Jean gets up and walks toward the door then turns back around. “You’ll never be able to make anything of yourself until you let the past go. Your past doesn’t have to define you, Savannah. I may not have been the mother you wanted, but there’s nothing we can do about that now. I am who I am.”
I can’t believe what my ears are hearing. How dare Jean actually think she can give me motherly advice, even if it makes some sense. No, I h
ave not decided a career path yet. I’m still settling into married life with Lucas. I haven’t had time to figure everything out and I’m still young. What was the hurry? It doesn’t seem to bother Lucas. His opinion is the only one I care about.
“Your dad always knew what potential you were capable of. He made that clear in his will.” Jean is now staring out of the window towards the storm brewing just outside.
“What in the world are you talking about?” I ask as I run my hands through my hair nervously.
She remains at the window silently, so I repeat myself. “What are you talking about, Mother?”
“He left you the restaurant and market,” she barely says over a whisper. This sends me into shock.
“Oh really? So I can take care of you the rest of my life. No thanks! John Paul should take over the businesses, not me.”
Jean looks as disgusted as I feel. “Between my inheritance from my parents and what your dad left me, you’ll never have to provide a dime for me. As for John Paul, he couldn’t handle the responsibility, nor does he want it. That boy’s heart is in his photography. Your dad knew you would continue his legacy the proper way.” Her tone lightens up a bit. “You’ve already shown your interest. You spent most of the day there yesterday, didn’t you?”
My lungs tighten painfully as I start to hyperventilate. “I have to get out of here.” I grab my bag, cram my feet into my shoes, and stumble out the door with the intention of running away from this life permanently. The dam I’ve willed to withstand the unrelenting years of hurt not only buckles under the pressure, it completely gives way, allowing all of the bitter memories to flood through me in a torturous taunt.
I surrender in defeat.
