A Tale of Two Lives

It's Mommy’s weekend again. 

My purple suitcase with yellow and blue flowers is in the corner of my room, waiting for me to fill it.

I pick it up, put it on my bed, and start getting everything I want to take to Mommy’s house. The same things I always take. My life. My whole life.

Hanging on one of the few hangers in my closet is my bright-blue dress. It goes in first. It’s my only dress here, and the dress I love, in my favorite color. My daddy bought me this dress.

I pull out my favorite shirt from my dresser. It’s yellow, with short sleeves, and I love it. My Nana saved up her money and bought it for me last Christmas, not long before she passed away. I’m almost growing out of it, but I’ll wear it as much as I can until then!

After I throw in some pants and one of my two pairs of shoes here, my bag is almost complete. I make sure I grab my big, Disney-princesses coloring book I’ve also had since forever, and my crayons.

Ms. Chuckles knew she was next—last, but always best. That’s my stuffed rabbit I’ve had since I was five who looks like a baby chick but with long ears. Even though I’m almost eight, I still can’t go anywhere without her.

Oh, and Ms. Chuckles doesn’t actually chuckle, by the way. I just named her that because that’s what I did when I first saw her.

She was surrounded by a bunch of Teddy bears in a toy store window. Some kid must’ve put these big glasses and a top hat on her, because it made her look real silly. That made me chuckle. But then she looked lonely, like she didn’t want to be there.

My daddy saw where I was looking, and he looked at Ms. Chuckles, too. 

I didn’t even have to ask. I barely ever ask. But he knew.

And so that’s when Ms. Chuckles came home and became part of our family.

I feel happy looking at my now-filled suitcase. That’s all I need. All that matters. Anything else is extra.

Just then, I hear, “Honey, your mom’s here!”

I hurry, zip up my suitcase, and run to give Daddy a big hug and kiss before I head out the front door. I love him so.

I slow down a little when I see Mommy.

“Hello, darling, how’s my baby girl?!?” she says in a kinda cheesy way as she starts to hug me. “Did you miss me?”

“Yes,” I say to her, even if it’s only kinda true, but I know that’s what she wants to hear. It makes her happy.

She puts my suitcase in her trunk, and we soon take off. Daddy’s still standing outside waving goodbye. Even though it’s only every other weekend, it always seems hard on him. Like, he’s showing all his teeth, so his mouth looks happy, but his eyes don’t.

I wave back as much as I can until we can’t see each other anymore. I feel Mommy looking at me in the corner of her eye. It probably feels kinda weird for her to see me make such a big deal about leaving Daddy and going with her, especially for just a few days, but… I can’t help it.

And I don’t want him to be sad.

“So, how are you, darling?” Mommy asks again. “You look pretty today,”

“Thank you, Mommy,” I say nicely.

“I’m surprised you aren’t wearing that yellow shirt you like so much. It seems like you always are!”

“I brought it with me,” I tell her. “It’s in my suitcase.”

“Ah, okay. Well, I like what you have on now,” she says.

What I have on now is a bright-pink shirt with a big panda in the middle. I don’t wear it very much, but I already knew Mommy would like it. After all, she was the one who bought it for me. “Thank you, Mommy,” I say again.

“So… How is everything? Anything new to share?”

Usually when she asks that, she isn’t asking about me anymore. She is asking about Daddy. And his new girlfriend.

“No, nothing much,” I say.

“Oh,” she replies.

We don’t say anything for a few minutes. It seems like Mommy never has the radio on.

Then, she asks, “How’s school?”

“It’s great. I really like my art and music classes,” I say with the most excitement I have had probably since I left the house.

“Oh yeah? What do you like about them?”

“Well, in art class, we draw, and color, and paint. We put together cool pieces of colorful art with paper—“

“Oh, that does sound fun!” Mommy says as her voice goes up, sounding more excited than me. “What else?”

“Well, in music class, we…sing a lot,” I chuckle. Mommy chuckles, too.

“Wow, that’s great—“

“Yeah,” I jump in. “And we also sometimes play instruments. Like the piano, and the drums!”

I think I’m finally waking up, and Mommy seems happy with this because she can’t stop smiling. So, I tell her some more about my art and music classes, and about my friends at school, and my teachers. All the way until we get to her house a little while later.

Her house is so big — so… when my Aunt Crystal came to visit once, she called it…“fancy”. When I later learned from Daddy what that word meant, I thought it was a good one. Aunt Crystal was right. It’s so big and fancy.

Mr. Roy meets us at the car to take my suitcase up to the room I sleep in, as he always does, and I follow him up.

Except for some new things, it’s exactly like I left it—how I always leave it, even when I’m here: Clean and not a thing out of place. I’m sure Ms. Mary loves working on this room, because there is never anything to work on!

Baskets of toys still neatly tucked away. Two closets full of bright clothes still hang where and in the same way they always have.

I carry my suitcase past those things and lift it onto the bed. After unzipping it, I smile.

My things.

I pull out Ms. Chuckles and give her a tight squeeze. While I lay on the bed, coloring, I give her a front-row seat to the action. 

Now, I’m home.

********************************

The rest of the weekend was nice. I colored some more, we spent some time together, and I got to talk to Mr. Roy a lot.

And now we’re headed back home. I try to hide my excitement to see Daddy, not wanting to hurt Mommy’s feelings.

My purple suitcase with the blue and yellow flowers lay happily in my lap. I made sure to bring it in the car with me this time, instead of in the trunk, so nothing slows me down from running up and hugging Daddy as soon as I see him.

Mommy looks over at me as I look out the window, thinking about that moment in my head. ”Did you have a good time?” she asks. 

“Yes,” I say back.

“Oh,” she says, her mouth dropping from a smile to a straight line.

“What?” I look at her, confused.

“I mean… ‘Yes’? That's it?? No 'thank you, it was wonderful, Mommy’?” She pauses. “And you don’t sound very excited.”

“I’m sorry, Mommy. I am excited, and yes, thank you for the great weekend.”

She’s no longer looking at me and doesn’t say anything back. Her eyes seem stuck in front of her, now looking at the road but not looking at the road.

She then says in a louder voice, “You know, I do the best I can!”

“I know, Mommy,” I say with my eyes still on her, hoping they might help calm her.

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“It didn’t just sound like you know. Or like you had a good time. It sounded to me like you think you could’ve had a better time!”

I don’t say anything this time.

She goes on. “But I’m sure you always have a fantastic time at Daddy’s,” her mouth bunches up to her nose as she says. “Everyone knows you love him more than me.”

She finally again looks at me, this time to see my face since I’m still not saying anything. My eyes haven’t left her.

“Speak, you child!!” she yelled. 

“Mommy, I had a really good time this weekend,” I hurry and say and try to mean it as best I can. “Honest!”

“Yeah, right,” she looks away from me again.

“I did!!” My voice gets a little louder, hoping that will make her believe me, but I try to not make it too loud, so I don’t upset her more.

“You know what I think? I think I do too much for you. I spoil you. You wouldn’t know how to appreciate good things if they kicked you in your little butt!”

I feel my eyes getting watery.

“I think you’re a spoiled, ungrateful little brat..is what I think. So, of course you didn’t have a good time this weekend—no spoiled brat would!!”

My face feels hot, and the first tear rolls down my cheek.

I look down and whisper, “Mommy, please…”

“‘Please,’ what?!? Oh, now you wanna be nice. Now you want to act like you’re a decent, thankful little girl, even though you’re clearly not!! You’re your father’s daughter… That’s for sure. I still can’t believe I even married, let alone had a child with, that man…”

I try my best to stop it but can’t—many more tears come, and they fall faster now.

The car starts slowing down. I haven’t even been paying attention but now notice we’re driving close to a bridge. As soon as we’re on it, we come to a stop on the side of the road.

My tears also slow down to a stop, but my face is still hot and wet. My eyebrows bunch together.

“What are you doing?” I ask her.

She parks, gets out, walks over to my side of the car, and opens the door. I’m scared and don’t know what’s going to happen next.

Suddenly, she reaches in and yanks at my suitcase that my hands seem almost glued to.

“Mommy!!” I scream. “What are you doing?!?”

“Let go. LET GO!!!” she yelled back.  

“Mommy, no!! What are you doing?!?” My voice gets even louder as I try to hold onto my suitcase as much as I can, but it’s getting harder.

She then pulls back each of my little fingers from the only thing left still holding onto it, the handle. My little hands are no match for hers.

She turns around with my suitcase and goes over to the side of the bridge.

“Mommy!!”

“I’ll teach you about being an ungrateful, spoiled little brat” she says to herself and then tries to throw it over the bridge but not high enough, so it falls back on her.

“Mommy, no!!!” I scream and beg her, now in a full panic.

She tries again… And this time, she does.

She just threw my purple suitcase with the blue and yellow flowers, and all the things in it, over the bridge, to the streaming river below.

Right away, she turns around and goes back to the car.

I run over to the side and try to stick my little head in between the bars they have up to keep someone from accidentally falling over. I have to keep myself from jumping over. I see the purple rectangle way down there hang on a rock for a few seconds, and then the water pull it away.

My face is even hotter and more soaked with tears than before and I’m sure redder than my red crayon.

“Nooooo!!!!” I scream. “What did you do?!?! Why did you do that?!?!?”

I remember Ms. Chuckles is in that suitcase, and my sadness becomes almost too much.

She killed her.

“Noooooo!!!!” Whyyyy?!?!?” I still scream… to no one.

Before I know it, I hear a car start up. I turn around and see Mommy is already back behind the steering wheel. She rolls down the window.

“Come on!!” she yells.

I turn and look down at the river in front of me to see my suitcase floating further away. Further and further, closer to the sun.

I stay here, with my hands squeezing the bars, for what feels like forever. I can barely hear Mommy’s voice in the background, screaming louder and louder for me to get in the car.

“Little girl, let’s go!! Get your butt in here right now!!! Let’s GO!!”

Soon, I slowly walk back, and I get in.

“Buckle your seatbelt!” she yells again.

I look up at her with the dirtiest face I can manage, grab the seatbelt, and slam both sides together.

And with that, she takes off.

Neither of us says anything for the first 10 minutes. And then, she speaks.

“Hey…” she says softly. I don’t answer. So, she tries again, a little harder. “Hey.”

I still don’t answer.

“Look…” she says more softly again. “I know you’re mad. I’m…sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” she pauses, I think waiting for me to say something. But I don’t.

She goes on. “Look… I’m sorry, okay? Okay??”

I look up at her for a moment and then away and down again.

A few seconds pass.

“I’ll make it up to you? Okay? I’ll buy you a whole new bag. A really pretty bag. With all new stuff in it!!”

I don’t want new stuff. I want my old stuff. I want my old bag. My purple suitcase with the blue and yellow flowers. My favorite, blue dress and my yellow shirt that my Nana got me. I want my coloring book and my crayons. My Ms. Chuckles.

My life.

I still don’t say anything. I can’t. What can I say that definitely won’t make her mad all over again?

Even though I know being quiet for too long will also do the same thing.

“No… Thank you,” my mouth finally gets out.

“No! No!! I want to do it—"

“It’s okay,” I lie. “I don’t want anything new—-”

“Nope. No. I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” she says. “We’re going to get you some new things—even better things…right now.”

Better things.

I’m trying really hard not to hate her right now.

An hour later, she’s bought me a big, bright-pink suitcase — with no flowers on it, just bright pink — a stuffed Teddy bear, three outfits she really liked, and a bunch of candy— also mostly that she likes.

Her smile is bright for the first time since she picked me up.

I feel flat.

A while later, she goes into a drive-thru. It’s her favorite fast-food place, McRonie’s.

“I think we should get you a yummy cheeseburger, some fries, and a big, thick strawberry milkshake,” she says excitedly. “What do you say?”

My face looks over at her, not saying anything, and then looks away.

“Yes, I know a tasty milkshake is what will help lift your spirits.”

I don’t like strawberry milkshakes. I like chocolate milkshakes. She likes strawberry milkshakes.

But she seems happy, so I still don’t say anything.

And even if it was chocolate, it still wouldn’t make me feel any better.

“Hey…” she says again as we finally head home.

I look up at her.

“Your father doesn’t need to know about everything we do… Right?”

I know what that means.

I don’t say anything.

“If he asks about your bag, we can just say you accidentally left it at my house and will get it next time. And that I got you these new things on the way.”

Daddy knows I would never leave that suitcase behind.

“Okay,” I say.

Her face of worry is replaced with happiness again. “And I’ll make it up to you some more next time. I promise.”

Next time.

The weekend after next…

Once I see our house, my spirits brighten a little.

My face dried and its color went back to normal—or as normal as can be—a while ago. I try to make my smile match it and not show anything it’s not supposed to.

My daddy stands outside, his mouth and eyes both looking happy to see me.

When I get out of the car, he asks me how everything was. "Good," I say, trying to keep the smile.

He starts to grab the new, bright-pink bag, and, as he looks at it, one of his eyebrows goes up.

“Hi, Jim,” Mommy butts in.

He looks over at her as that eyebrow goes back to normal. “You’re late,” he says.

“I know, Jim, don’t give me that.”

“Don’t give you what?!? We have an agreement, Barbara. You’re supposed to bring her back by 5. It’s now 7.”

“I know what time it is, Jim.”

“Oh, you do, huh?!? Well, that’s funny because I think that means you’re two hours late and behind the schedule we agreed on. You know she has school tomorrow.”

“Schedule?! Why do I even have to have a schedule to see my daughter?!? It’s ludicrous.”

“It’s what the judge says!! You need to follow the rules for a change, Barbara—“

“Fuck the rules, Jim!!”

“My point exactly.”

I stand there beside the bright-pink bag my daddy has put back down as he goes back and forth with Mommy, and I look at them both.

I grab the bag, seeing if he’ll stop and offer to take it in for me. And also see that it isn’t my bag. So I don’t have to tell him. Since I know I won’t.

He doesn’t. 

I walk over and into the house…with my new things Mommy got me.