The Return

Esther stands in the corner of her empty guestroom, with no more emotion than a house plant. The sun hangs heavily in the apex of its arduous march, casting light in the stark, white room, dulling the already faded, paisley sheets, tucked and folded like origami on that small cot, as if a soul had never touched it. As if last night never happened.

She leans against the doorway for a while, only managing to pull away when the sharp corner digs too deep into her arm and bruises it. She sighs and rubs her throbbing arm; eager to focus on the pain that could heal, for no pain can match the numbness that consumes her aching heart.

After eleven years, one night is all she gets with her phantom of a mother. She closes her eyes tightly, and arrives at that night, the night her mother fled. The scared ten-year-old wrapped up in princess sheets. Her mind racing from overhearing another fight, more screaming, more words she cannot chase away, with even all bedtime stories in the world. No matter how much time goes by, Esther will never forget her mother's eyes, bruised from her father and lack of sleep, pulled down in both sadness and fear, unspeaking yet forcing her daughter to understand that she could not stay. And Esther did. Her mother's jacket's buttons hurt her cheek as she embraced her tightly, and soon all that was left of Esther's mother was a throbbing cheek and imprint on her sheet.

From that night on, her mother left her life and never returned, no number to chase nor even a crumb to show that she had existed at all. Esther forced these memories back into the corner of her mind. Normally she wouldn't be so obsessed about her, she hadn't been in years, but the abrupt arrival of that woman on her doorstep, as seemingly natural as a package, shook her world.

Esther cradles her head and forced herself to clear her mind. Her day was full enough as it was, and she didn't have "ruminating" anywhere on it. Plodding into the kitchen, she embraces Kara, preparing coffee at the counter. Her partner's typically unruly hair sat neatly pinned and styled against its will, complemented by an equally startling pencil skirt and blouse. Her honey skin glows in the mid-day light, breathed alive by caffeine and her positive energy.

Peeking over her shoulder, Kara reads Esther quickly before returning the embrace. She smiles and kisses her forehead gently. "Let me know if you wanna talk about last night." Esther sighs deeply in response, not yet ready to open that vortex of emotion. Instead, she pokes fun at her girlfriend's unusual attire.

"What's with the secretary impersonation?"

Kara laughs and pulls away, waving the coffee pot dangerously close to Esther's face.

"Hey, I have that job interview at one today and my 'give up on life' outfit may have me kicked out before I even enter the room!"

Esther smiles weakly. "You're going to do great, I'm really proud of you."

Kara grins, leaning casually against the table with a cup in hand. "Thanks, babe. I'm just excited to be able to contribute to the cash flow around here. You have anything planned today?"

Esther flinches and covertly grips the table. She actually did have something planned today but wasn't about to tell Esther. Her night last night with her Mother left her confused and lost, just like that night eleven years ago. She no longer was going to wait years, left hanging by a thread from that woman, wondering if she was going to appear at her doorstep like a stray cat or never turn up again. No, she was going to find her. She was going to get the closure she deserved.

But she did not tell Kara this. In fact, she didn't even call her boss to tell her that she wouldn't be in today. Truly, her mother's unexpected arrival made her as unpredictable as she was, which bothered her.

Esther smiles weakly back at Kara, sure her frail attempt at normalcy gave away that something was up.

"Oh, the usual. Wake up, follow the hordes of people to corporate America. Run the rat race. You know the drill."

Kara, sensing nothing out of the norm, twinkles with laughter.

"Yes, living the good life! Well, say 'hey' to the American dream to me, okay? I have to go now, so wish me luck!"

"Luck." Esther smirks, embracing her partner with a brief, parting peck, and follows her to the door. She leans out the doorway of their apartment, her shouts of encouragement following Kara down the hall and into the elevator. Propped up against the doorway, she stares intently down the hall for a minute, making sure she doesn't double back for anything.

Sure that the coast is clear, Esther rushes back into the house, not wanting to waste a moment. She flies into her bedroom she shares with Kara, chaotically throwing open drawers and baskets alike, stuffing all clothes within an arm's reach into her open suitcase.

She had no idea what she was packing for, nor barely an idea of where she was headed. Even after filling her mother with a night of drinks, she hardly managed to get a clue of where her mom was staying. Still, she had a hunch, and it was exponentially greater than eleven years of nothing.

After a few minutes of disorganizing and destroying the room's perfect shelves and Marie Kondo folds, she felt satisfied with her ensemble of clothes, toothbrushes, Cheetos, and the like.

Taking a quick once over across the house, Esther rips a hot pink sheet from the note pad at Kara's desk and hastily scribbles a vague, "I'm okay, I'll be back soon" message. Satisfied with her handiwork, Esther snatches her keys and coat and advances out the door.

Succeeding the descent of a-many staircases, and trekking across the parking lot, she throws herself in her car and races out of the lot. If her mom was where Esther thought she was, there was no time to lose.

Despite her rush and need to move, no human is greater than the beast of a traffic jam, and soon she found herself lost in a line of glowing, metal beasts, each filled a person each wondering "why me" and "who taught these folks how to drive". Finally forced to relax, and caught in the monotony of the mid-day rush, she at last allowed her mind to wander

Whispers of last night began to fill her brain. The shock of opening the door to her mother, a wave of surprise and anger and fear and distrust overwhelming her shaken heart.

Eleven years past and the women hadn't changed a bit, save for overgrown grey roots. Neither woman embraced, neither woman spoke. It was as if they had both never met at all. All Esther could muster in her dulled state was to step aside, allowing this mirage of a woman to step inside.

Then, her mother's whispers broke the ice that encased them both.

"May I stay the night?"

Too dumbfounded to reply coherently, she found herself nodding.

Then, from that moment on, she and her mother spoke.

It was hard.

It was emotional.

Esther was unsure whether to be happy or angry, and dark, colorful emotions clouded that night. In eleven years, there was not so much of a postcard or a letter, for all she had known her mother had died. Yet, like the prodigal son, she had returned.

Before Esther could continue to brood a honk snapped her awake. The metal monsters were alive and moving, and so she continued her trek.

Minutes flew by, and then hours began to rush by like the trees out her window. Esther lost track of time, allowing the silky voice of Ella Fitzgerald and the bright pop of Louis Armstrong's trumpet to consume her.

The sun sank slowly, dangerously close to the horizon, igniting the road and her landscape on fire. Soon, Esther spotted the exit she was looking for and pulled off the highway.

She pulled through the city, down a road that she barely remembers, and finally steering into a street forever engrained in her unconsciousness. Her day-long expedition ended in front of a bungalow-style home, complete with chipped paint, droopy porch, sad lawn, and even sadder memories.

This home was where her grandmother lived, many years ago. She came up here often to spend time with her, countless nights were spent in the small guest room, which had basically become her room. Her grandfather passed away early on, and her grandmother lived all alone. After her grandmother died, she had never been able to go back. This home was her only solace, an escape from her abusive father. She savored each second here like good chocolate, wanting to savor every bite lest it runs out too fast.

Esther exited her car hastily and spotted her mother's red, worn Jeep pulled into the driveway. Preparing her mind as if for battle, she zips her jacket up to her chin and enters the dilapidated front porch. The same bright, watermelon pillows, now nearly unrecognizable after years of winter seasons and weather, sit on the swinging bench by the door. Before Esther gets the chance to knock, the door swings open.

In front of her, her mother glares down at her.

"What are you doing here?"

Esther stumbles, taken aback. How dare her mother be angry for her daughter trying to find her, spending the entire day looking for her after eleven years of not such much as a text from her.

Esther stands tall and looks her in the eye.

"I should be asking you that same question. I see you, for the first time in eleven years, and fled without so much as a goodbye? I should be pissed, I should never want to see you again. But you're my mom, and I need answers. I drove all day just to see you, so you could at least let me in like I did last night."

Esther's mom slumps down, her shoulders caving in. Her tough exterior melts away, and her age starts to show. She sighs.

"You're right. You deserve answers. Come in."

She plods forward into the darkness, Esther hesitating for a second before trailing after. She peers around the house in wonder, shocked that nothing had changed, save for some cobwebs and piles of dust.

Her mother gestures to a doorway as they pass it.

"You can stay in the guest room if you like, or, I mean unless you plan on driving back in the night."

"Guest room's fine," Esther grunts.

Making it to the small kitchen, Esther's mom pulls out a small, chipped mug from the peeling cabinets, pouring her a substance more suited to be called "bean water" than dared to be called coffee.

Tentatively taking the cup in her hands, she reads her mother.

Her mother gently looks back, thin-lipped and tired.

A few minutes pass, and heavy silence is the only that passes between them.

Again, her mother is the first to breathe a word. Her whisper-like voice branches out, gentle as a peace offering.

"Would you like me to begin?"

Esther clenched tightly to the dinky cup, suddenly unable to look her mother in the eye. She forces a nod, eyes watering.

"Okay, then, I guess the best way to start is from the beginning.

"That night, eleven years ago, is one I will always regret. I was overcome with fear, with despair. For years, I was stuck in a relationship with that man, and the only reason I stayed as long as I did was for you. But when he began to abuse me, I knew enough was enough. I should have taken you with me, I know that now. Why I left a child in the hands of a beast I'll never know. I was overcome with emotion and went as far as I could, not really in a direction, just away."

Her voice quaked with emotion as she continued.

"I was too ashamed to write at first, and soon I felt that it was better if I stayed completely out of your life. I was traveling constantly, state to state, home to home. Yet, through it all, I never forgot you, not once. Please remember that."

She raises her watery eyes to Esther, and lightly reaches for her hands, gripping her fingers in her calloused palm.

Her mother closed her eyes and continued in a whisper.

"I, I couldn't bear to face the reality of what I'd done. And all I can ask now is for your forgiveness."

Esther pulled back into herself, confused and saddened. Her heart was being tugged in a million directions, and she was lost beyond hope. She pushes away her chair and stands up, looking down at her mom.

"I...I need a minute. I'm tired. I think I'll turn in for the night."

Esther's mom's face clouds with confusion and sadness. Numbly she nods, and Esther pads away. She lugs her suitcase into the guest room and throws her luggage onto the bed with a plop. A storm of dust gushes up, and Esther coughs and waves her arms in an attempt to blow the cloud away. Her hand slams into her shelf and over her head a hefty, leather-bound book falls with a heavy thud to the ground.

Esther looks down at it in surprise. She knew this room like the back of her hand and never had she noticed this album before.

After instinctually glancing at the door, she heaves the book onto the bed and rests in front of it. Glancing at the years on the cover, she notices that it dates from the year she was born until she was two. Intrigued, she flips open the book and gasps.

On the first page is a photo, with her as a wrinkled, newborn, baby cradled in a woman's arms, donned in scrubs, with a girl beaming nearby. At first confused, recognition quickly donned on her as horror spread throughout. The woman in the photo, who had just given birth, was her grandmother, and the girl, "her mother".

Esther's breath was lost. Her vision blurred and she began to sway. All these years, her sister had pretended to be her mother, and grandma was her mother.

Her stomach rolled with unease, and she stared at the empty guest room. She had come to this house for answers, yet here she was with even more questions. Hastily grabbing her bag, she left the book on her bed and fled to the car, past her startled sister, and drove into the night,

Esther's sister stared surprised at the rushing figure and lept to the doorway, leaning into the night breeze. Confused, she went into the room and saw the open photo album splayed across the dusty sheets. And with the emotion of a houseplant, leaned into the doorway into the empty guest room.