Dark Brown Eyes

The dark brown eyes in the mirror of my dresser stared back at me, searching for familiarity. There was a photograph stuck to the mirror. The same, younger set of eyes in that photograph ignored what I was going through, simply staring at my dad’s laughing face and his happy grey eyes as he held me in his arms when I was a five year old. I always wished I had dad’s eyes. Thinking of Dad hurt sometimes. I didn’t want to leave him. I wished, in that moment, that I could be his little baby forever. I was terrified to leave this place. Being older was terrifying. Today was the most terrifying of them all.

“You look wonderful darling,” Mom came up from behind me with a proud smile on her face. She fixed my veil and held my hand in hers. “Don’t overthink. You are stronger than you know.” She’d always say this. Even though I had inherited my dad’s stormy emotions. She always told me to be in control. To be stronger than my emotions. But today, my eyes reminded me of sad memories, and I couldn’t get past them.

“You don’t look like her.” My eyes shot up to my Mom’s face, blinking, shocked at her comment. “You thought I wouldn’t figure out what you keep finding in your face when you look at yourself like that in the mirror? I know you honey.” She smiled a sad smile.

“But my eyes…” I started to protest, trying to explain how important it was for her, for anyone to understand that my eyes reminded me of that woman.

“Your grandfather had the same eyes. You look exactly like him. Don’t you hear your dad squabbling on and on about how much you remind him of his father?” Mom was good at reasoning. But she had a point. What was I doing anyway? This was supposed to be my big day. I had my family around me, the people who really loved me. And I was  in thoughts of someone who hadn’t existed in my reality when I needed her to. To hell with her.

So, I pushed back my tears because they weren’t worth being wasted on people who didn’t matter and hugged Mom. “I am so lucky to have you Mommy. I love you.” And she held me like mothers hold their children and I felt like the five year old me again. I wished that five year old girl was lucky enough to have Mom around to hold her like this. “You’ll always have me my darling,” said Mom, sensing my thoughts somehow. I felt all the strength I needed for today seeping into me through her hug.

We reached the chapel in 30 minutes, my nerves were getting the best of me. Dad met us near the doors. He was late. “Sorry, I needed you to have this today. I know how much you love white roses,” He handed me a gorgeous crown made of white roses. I remember telling him about wanting this a few years back. The fact that he remembered brought tears to my eyes. Gosh my tear ducts were under a lot of pressure today! I kissed him on the cheek, unable to say more, afraid I’d start crying in his armsD.

He looked teary eyed too but he toughened up for me I guess because he smiled the brightest smile and held out his arm, “Shall we?” I nodded and I took his arm and started walking towards the aisle. He had this proud, but still tearful, look about him which made me both sad and happy. My father walked me down the aisle, kissed my forehead and we both took our places, him next to the love of his life and me next to mine. Both the men I loved smiled at me and I felt content in that moment.

The priest started the ceremony. I just wanted to glance at Mom one last time before I turned around. But that was a mistake. Standing a few feet behind was that woman, staring at me with my dark brown eyes. My mind froze. She always had that effect on me even though I hadn’t seen her since that summer before I had turned 8 when she left her two little girls, without any prior notice, to follow her dreams.

The only thought whizzing up in my head was “She had no right.” I tore my eyes away from her, and looked at Dad. He was looking at that woman too. He looked furious. Then his eyes found mine and his expression turned to worry. Like I said, Dad was bad at controlling his emotions. His worry that I won’t be able to control mine was imminent on his face.

I felt Mom’s gaze burning at me. I looked at her and this was definitely not a mistake. My Mom, the woman who raised me, had an unwavering confidence in her bright blue eyes. So opposite to her husband’s, her eyes sent me a message like they always did: “You’re stronger than you know.” Her voice, those words echoed in my head.

I looked towards that woman one last time with my jaw set and my brown eyes as fierce as hers. I nodded at my sister who was making her way to that woman. My sister whispered something to her at which that woman tried to protest. She looked at my firm expression, and then at my sister’s. We both had the message clearly written on our faces: “It’s been 20 years. You are not welcome on our happy day when you weren’t willing to be there on our sad ones.” And with that, she let my sister escort her out of the Chapel doors.

I felt my fiance’s hand brush my elbow and I turned to him with a confident smile. “You okay, love?” My eyes yet again drifted to Mom and Dad and my sister who had entered back in. “More than ever,” I said to him with a smile. We turned to the priest and motioned him to continue.

When the ceremony was over, we were supposed to head to the reception venue. For some reason, Mom made everyone leave first, telling us to stay back for some pictures. I later found out the real reason for this, much to my disappointment.

There was a little sitting room in the chapel where my husband ushered me into when everyone had left. “What is it?”, I asked, already guessing the answer from the way he looked at me.

“Look, if you don’t face this, you will regret it.” I moved away from him, fuming with anger mixed with hurt. “No! You know how even the thought of her makes me feel...feel like I will….gosh I can punch a hole in a wall right now.”

“Calm down. Breath, love. Remember what you told me the other day? She’s just a woman. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Yes it doesn’t matter but it mattered today!”, I was screaming at this point. “It mattered today because she had no right to show up and take away the glory of being a proud mother from Mom. She had no right to show up on my happiest day to remind everyone of her existence.” My voice was wavering, on the edge of pushing me into becoming a mess of tears.

“You’re right. I had no right to show up today.”

I whirled around to find that wretched woman standing at the door. There she was, the woman who kept me in her belly for nine months, who promised me to protect me from the monsters every night she put me to bed, who left me alone to look after myself and my sister when we needed a mother the most. What angered me the most was that I saw the woman who broke my Dad when we weren’t old enough to understand how to put him back together.

“You,” I sneered, clenching my fists. “How dare you show your face today? Today of all days?” I could sense my husband shifting closer to me. I knew he wouldn’t leave me alone with this woman, afraid I’d let my emotions out and hit her or something that I’d regret later. I was thankful for him being there. But I had to control myself. I made Mom’s words echo in my head over and over again. I’m stronger than I know.

“I thought you would need your mother today. I missed you baby. I did. If you’d just hear me ou-”

“Missed me? You missed me? May I ask when exactly it occurred to you to miss me?” I interrupted. I remembered all her facades. She had lured me like this a year after she had left us. She had come to meet me in school, asked me a bunch of questions and twisted my words to make Dad sound like an incompetent father so she could take our custoday and the money that’d come along with us. I remember her yelling at me when her plan backfired and dad’s lawyer had deflected all her allegations. I remember her telling me things like “I hate you.” and “You betrayed me.”, when I was just a dumb 9 year old, always wondering why her mother hated  her, why her father was always unhappy, why the kids at school bullied her. I remembered every sad moment flashing in front of my brown eyes as they sent daggers to hers.

“I have always missed you baby. You’re my baby.”

Baby. That’s what she used to call me when I was a little girl. The sound of it made me dizzy with rage.

“Who was it?”, I asked her in a low voice.

“What do you mean?”

“Who was it from the miserable people from dad’s side of the family that gave you all the information about our lives?”

There were relatives on my dad’s side that didn’t like dad very much. They thought his father, my Grandfather, loved him more as he inherited most of his wealth. To some people money was more important than blood. Me, my parents were my sisters were the ones st caught in the middle of their line of fire. Unfortunately, one of those money hungry people was the woman who gave birth to me.

“It was your aunt. I see your so-called mother has taught you a lot more than I did. You’ve grown smarter than the blubbering mess I left behind.”

My husband stepped forward to say something. I touched his arm and gave him an assuring nod. Then turned around to face my mother with a smile.

“There you are. Here's the evil witch that was removed from our lives. Finally you’ve surfaced. I knew it was all aunt’s doing. She never liked Mom. I’ll deal with her later. As for you, I think it’s best you leave right now. I have a reception I have to be at.”

“Is it so difficult for you to believe that I came here to be with you?”

“It’s not difficult. There’s nothing to believe when I have complete faith you came here just to humiliate me and my family. If you loved me, you’d have known better and stayed away or maybe meet in private. More than that, you had twenty years. Twenty years to be there for us. Please leave. My family is waiting for me.”

“You know your sister told me the same thing. I can’t believe I wasted my time on the both of you at all back then.”

Before I could launch myself at that woman, Mom entered the room. “That’s enough. I kept my distance out of respect. I don't appreciate you talking to my daughter in this manner. If you don't leave right away, I swear to God I will rip your face apart if you spoil today for her.” I had never seen Mom this furious.

There was that little kid in me again, smiling proudly at her mom as she saved her from the bullies like a mother dragon. She made sure that woman exited the premises before we all made our way to our cars.

“Your Mom scares me sometimes,” said my husband with a smile playing on his lips. I smirked back at him and said, “Better be careful then”.

Earlier that day, I was scared to leave behind my Mom and Dad and my sisters and start a new life. I was scared about being like our mother who left us alone, crying in the middle of the night, leaving me in a position to act as mother to my little sister. But on that day, I realized, though we shared the same eyes, I had grown up to be just like my Mom, who loved me and my sister as much as she loved our half sister. There were people in that chapel, some were friends and family to my parents, but to me they were mere obligations. Those people never failed to remind us sisters that Mom is an outsider. Tagged her with that infuriating label: “step-mother”. Tried to pull us away from her. But we came through for each other. And facing that woman, the woman who gave us these dark brown eyes, was the one thing I was afraid might break us apart. But it didn’t. That chapter had finally ended.

Yeah people had a lot to gossip about at the reception. But I didn’t care as I danced with my Dad, as I clicked pictures with my sisters, as I cut the cake with my husband and the best of all, as I clicked that one picture I treasure the most now with me in the middle and Mom and Dad both hugging me.

After that day, whenever I stood in front of my dresser, that picture now stuck next to the one with my dad reminded me of one perfect little conclusion I came upon on my wedding day: “That little girl in that picture got her wish she wished for that summer when she turned 8. She had a Mom and a Dad and a perfect little family.”

My own blood had betrayed me and that made me push people away. But Mom, just by being my Mom, made me realize that blood doesn’t mean these people would love you, really love you. You cannot expect people to love you. You just love them and see what you get in return. I loved everyone with all my might like my Mom taught me too. And defined my family with what I got in return. Remembering that day reminds me that I am loved and yeah happy endings don’t exist, but that day was a happy ending.