Loving A Stone

Emily

I focus on the gentle swish of the page turning instead of their voices. I can hear the edge in her voice but I’m not paying attention to what they’re saying. I’ve gotten good at tuning them out. But all of a sudden Tessa starts screaming and she smashes a glass against the counter and she’s clutching her hand to her chest getting blood all over her bright yellow shirt and all I can think is, “That’s gonna leave a stain.” 

I take her upstairs to get Band-Aids and tell her to run her hand under the tap to clean the wound. I know absolutely nothing about first aid except what I’ve seen people do in emergencies on TV but luckily the cut is small and doesn’t seem to need stitches. I hold her while she sobs, rocking back and forth, muttering under her breath, “I hate her.”

Monika

She’s crazy, absolutely nuts, absolutely psycho. What did I do to make her like this? That’s the thought that keeps bouncing around my mind as I stare up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. Was it something I said? Did I not nurture her enough? How could my own daughter hate me this much? I don’t even know what I said to upset her, just that by the time I told her she had better take her medication before bed, she was flying off the handle. Screaming and spitting that she didn’t need medication, that she wasn’t crazy, that it’s my fault she’s like this. And maybe it is, but I have a hard time truly believing that. I’ve given everything so my kids can be happy. I’ve done everything so that they know I love them and that I will be there for them no matter what. I am the parent I always wanted. 

At least I made one good one. Emily wouldn’t dare to even raise her voice at me – that’s how much she loves and respects me. So it can’t be all my fault. I refuse to believe it.

If only Ivan was still here, he’d know what to do. 

Emily

Soon the sobbing subsides and turns to hiccups, and she is no longer bleeding. I say goodnight and go to bed, pausing once I shut my door, debating whether or not to lock it. Mom had the lock installed last week after the knife throwing incident, when Tessa threatened to kill us both. I don’t think she was serious. But still, Mom would rather be safe than sorry. It makes me feel kind of guilty to lock the door because it means I believe the worst about her. And after all, we’re in the same boat, just handling things differently. It’s not her fault our dad died. I get that she’s angry, I just don’t get why she takes it out on us. After a moment’s hesitation, I turn the lock. 

Tessa

I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate this fucking family I hate being alive. I want to scream, but everyone is asleep, so I bite the inside of my cheek and stare at the Band-Aid on my hand. There’s a dark spot in the middle from the blood. I wish the cut was deeper so I would’ve had to go to the hospital or something just to get away from her. That controlling bitch, trying to tell me what I can and can’t do, who I can’t see, and trying to shove pills down my throat, telling me I’m crazy. And my stupid brainwashed little sister going along with absolutely everything that witch says. 

I choke back a sob. Suddenly the anger is replaced with an overwhelming sadness and the realization that I am absolutely, completely alone. My mom isn’t on my side. She just tries to make everyone think she is, always going on about what a good mom she is and how she does everything for us kids. No one else can see how much of a liar she is. I used to be a daddy’s girl, but now he’s gone, and I have absolutely no one.  

Monika

I wake up with a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. I got next to no sleep from constantly replaying the events of last night. I’ve been tired for the past six years; I guess I better start getting used to it. I get out of bed after half an hour of staring at the ceiling. I see my eyes are red and puffy when I look in the mirror.

Emily talks non-stop the whole car ride to school but Tessa is dead silent. Her bangs fall over her eyes, and if I didn’t know better I’d say she’s asleep. But I know she’s awake because I can feel the rage coming off her in waves. When we arrive at her school I say, “Have a great day sweetie, love you!” She says nothing, slamming the car door. I watch her disappear through the school doors and sigh. 

I stare in envy at the other parents, the ones whose daughters actually wave goodbye to them. I was warned about the “terrible teens” but I didn’t think it would be this bad. Everyone else seems to have it so easy. I blink back the familiar burning sensation in my eyes. I’m not thinking about this right now. From now until I get home from work, she’s someone else’s problem.

“Mom?” Emily asks timidly from the backseat. “Are you crying?”

“It’s just the sun in my eyes, sweetie.” I drive off without another word. 

Emily

At home after school, Tessa makes us both grilled cheese sandwiches, just like how Dad used to. He taught her how to make all sorts of things while I watched, too young to do anything else. We eat mostly in silence, bathed in the glow of the late afternoon sunlight. 

“How’s your hand?” I ask.

“It’s okay. It really wasn’t that deep of a cut.” She pauses for a moment. “Thanks. About last night. Thanks for staying with me and doing first aid.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call that first aid, but you’re welcome. What are sisters for, right?”

She smiles and we finish our sandwiches. I leave the crusts, as usual. 

“You know, you really shouldn’t get so mad at Mom all the time.” 

She stiffens, immediately on edge. “You would think that wouldn’t you,” she sneers. “You’re just her little pet, you have no idea how toxic she really is.”

“But she’s our mom.”

“That means nothing.” The chair screeches back and she retreats to her room and I’m left with the feeling that I said the wrong thing. 

Monika

When I get home from work, I’m relieved to hear Emily tell me that Tessa has been in her room all evening. I’ve been hoping she’d do something violent enough for me to have her arrested, just like the night with the knife throwing incident. Then I could get a break and not have to walk on eggshells all the time. And for Emily to have to put up with this all the time... I can’t imagine how she feels. I grab a wine glass from the cupboard and a bottle of red. That’s funny, I could’ve sworn I had more left. On a hunch, I grab a marker and draw a line. 

Tessa

I know she hates me. I’ve been in my room all night but I could hear their muted voices - hers mostly - talking about me. I heard her sigh in relief when Emily told her I haven’t come downstairs since four. I hear the Law and Order theme song start, wincing at the “dun dun.” Something inside of me cracks because that’s our show and they’re on the couch and I’m here, door shut, lights off, wishing I could just sleep so I wouldn’t have to be awake. 

I know about the locks on the doors too. The walls are thin and every night I can hear Emily close her door, and then silence, and then the faint click of the lock. Mom doesn’t even try to hide it. She has one of those old-fashioned chain locks on hers. I know that as soon as the show is over they’ll go to their rooms and I’ll hear the locks slide into place. I know that she does this because she hates me. I don’t know if she’s ever really loved me. I don’t know if she can. 

Monika

The next morning, Emily is already waiting in the car. Tessa is putting on her shoes, and I, on that same hunch from last night, open the fridge, take the bottle out, and set it on the counter. The little tick mark I drew last night before bed is now significantly higher than the liquid. 

“You’re drinking in the morning?” I screech. 

“So what if I am?” Tessa says defiantly, sauntering into the kitchen. She stops one foot away from me, sneering, almost daring me to do something.

“That’s it, you’re grounded! No dance for you, and God knows you won’t be seeing that asshole you’ve been sneaking around with.” At this point I’m absolutely fuming. “Loving Emily is easy, but loving you is like trying to love a stone.” 

It’s true, it really is. The psychologist I’m seeing said the same thing. She recognizes how I do everything for my girls, and I’m getting nothing back from this one. She said I need to stop trying and let go, but how can a mother let go of her daughter, even if she is like a stone?

Tessa

I see red. 

Monika

I duck just in time to prevent the bottle from hitting my head. Utterly shocked, I teeter and she pushes me down. I land on top of the bits of broken bottle, wincing as the glass bites into the palm of my hand. I am hyper-aware of everything: the sounds of birds chirping outside, the pounding of my heart, the wetness from the blood mixed with wine, the looming figure of my petite daughter, strengthened by rage, brandishing the broken end of the wine bottle. I crawl backwards into the living room then think: I should’ve stayed in the kitchen, now the carpet is going to get dirty. Involuntarily, I let out a little chuckle. 

She tosses the bottle to the side and pounces on me, her hands grabbing at my throat, her knees on my chest, pinning me down. I look straight into her eyes, her blue eyes that she got from her father, and wonder how I could’ve created something that wants to destroy me so badly. I had the perfect family at one point, although it’s hard to believe now. Ivan was such a good father. And God, what a good head of hair he had. When he started chemo it all fell out, and I had to watch him wither away until he was just a shell of a man. 

If I die, I can be with him again. 

I stop struggling. I resign myself to the fact that this is the last thing I’ll see, her eyes blue like the sky, blue like Ivan’s, and I pray that there’s an afterlife and that he’s waiting there for me. 

The next thing I know, the air rushes into my lungs and there my Emily stands, majestic and clad in purple, tall for her young age of ten. Holding a frying pan over her head. Tessa on the ground. I’m still gasping and coughing, but I’m okay. Now Emily is on the phone but her voice sounds garbled. Nothing feels real. I crawl over to my baby girl, crumpled on the floor. Her chest rises and falls, but her sky-blue eyes are shut.  

Emily

Red and blue lights dance on the walls of our living room and I hear the sirens but everything feels so far away. I should be in math class right now. I have a quiz later today. Hopefully this all gets wrapped up soon so I can still make it to class. 

Monika

Finally I get a break. It’ll probably just be a few days but at least it’s something. They take her away in an ambulance in case she has a concussion or something. The police stay after the ambulance leaves, going over our statements. The officer is talking to me, but I don’t hear a word he’s saying. I stare out the window at the driveway where just seconds ago, the ambulance left with my baby girl inside. They asked if I wanted to ride with her to the hospital but I just shook my head. I feel soreness in the place her fingers wrapped around my neck. 

“So when will she be back home?” I ask him. 

“If you want, we can charge her with aggravated assault, and then it would be up to the courts to determine sentencing. She could be placed in a juvenile facility, so she might not be back home for a while. Don’t worry, the courts will make sure you’re safe.”

“It was just a fight though. She gets like this sometimes,” I explain. “She didn’t really mean it, so we don’t need the courts. Just keep her for a few days and then let me take her home.” 

The officer looks at me quizzically. “Ma’am, that’s not exactly how this works. Are you saying you don’t want to press charges?”

“Of course not! I’m her mother! I just need a break for a few days.” He just shakes his head. It’s crazy, I know, but really I can’t do that to her. She needs to be home with her family. They told me they’ll keep her in the hospital tonight for observation, and I don’t know what will come after that, but at least I’ll be able to sleep tonight. 

Emily is talking to the other police officer. She’s telling her about her favourite book. Looking at her, she seems no different than usual, except that her hands are shaking, ever so slightly. 

Emily

I’ll probably have to wash the floor since it’s so sticky from the wine and blood. What a mess. I know I’m not going to school today since Mom went upstairs to lay down as soon as the police left, and hasn’t come down since. I figure I might as well clean up now. As I start to scrub, tears fall from my eyes and mix with the soapy water. As the tears start to flow more steadily I scrub even harder, until there’s no trace at all of the conflict in the kitchen. I take a deep breath. At least I won’t have to lock my door tonight.