The Guilt

“The Guilt” by Mary M Reid

“Knock, knock.”

 Caught off guard, Mrs. Forde quickly turned around, causing the dish she was washing to slip through her fingers. “Brianna! I wasn’t expecting you today.”

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” said Brianna as she planted a kiss on her mother’s cheek. “Elie’s rehearsing for a play so I have some time and thought I’d drop by. Where’s dad?”

“We’re having BBQ so he’s heating up the grill. Why don’t you join us,” said Mrs. Forde who was always pleased when her daughter was able to drop by.

“Sounds good, thanks.”

“How’s my granddaughter?”

 “She’s getting as sassy as ever. Hey mom, do you remember when I was around Elie’s age and played the lion in the Wizard of Oz? You had taken some photos of me in my costume; do you still have them?”

“Of course I have them. If I didn’t already give them to you, I certainly still have them. Why?” ask Mrs. Forde.

“I want to show Elie. She’s playing the lion also.”

“All those pictures are in the basement somewhere in a bin. I keep meaning to sort and put them in albums but haven’t gotten around to it yet,” said Mrs. Forde.

“Mom, after all these years I doubt you will. Anyways, no one uses albums anymore. You should get them done digitally. You mind if I borrow that photo?”

“You don’t have to borrow it, you can keep it, after all it’s of you.”

“Thanks mom. I’ll be back,” said Brianna, planting another kiss on her mother’s cheek.

The basement seemed to be taken over by more and more bins since Brianna was last there. She scanned the room and found the bin named pictures, buried beneath several bins. By the time she reached it she had had her daily weight training workout. She shook her head unbelievingly at the amount of dust on the bins despite them being in a closed-up space. She sneezed several times and used the back of her hand to wipe the water running from her eyes. She wished she had foreseen what she was up against and taken an allergy pill. Removing the cover from the bin, she peered inside and sighed at the number of photos she had to go through.

I really must introduce mom to digital imaging.

As she sat crossed legged on the chilled tile flooring, with the bin of photos before her, she hoped mom at least had them sorted by year.

To her dismay, they weren’t.

Sigh!

Sorting through the photos though triggered nostalgia of her past. She found herself laughing and aahing at the 4x6s as she flipped through them. There was the photo of her holding up a lost tooth. It was not her front tooth. In the photo she had that overbite smile from years of sucking her thumb. The thumb sucking smile that would result in her needing braces and going through junior high being teased, but emerging with a Hollywood smile by the time she reached high school. She aahed when she saw Elie as a toddler in her Halloween costume. That year she went as a raggedy doll. A chuckled escaped her when she saw the photo of her mother making the usual funny face for the camera. She hated taking photos and either turned away or made a face. 

And there was the photo of her dad as Santa Clause. Dad was the Black Santa at the local mall. Her classmates took photos with him which, in elementary, made her feel important that time of the year.

As Brianna flipped through the photos, she tried to sort them even though she knew her mom may never do anything with them. They’ll remain scattered in the bin until Brianna inherited the lot.

She scanned through the remaining photos with a bit more haste, deciding to return another day to reminisce.

As she continued to flick through the photos, the one with her mother and a man made her take pause. She sat up straight and stared intently at the two figures. She didn’t recognize who this person was that stood behind her mother, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, and his face buried slightly into her neck. Mom had a tilt to her head and was smiling broadly for the camera.

Mom never smiles for the camera. 

In the photo Mrs. Forde wore a low-cut thin strapped dress which had sparkles. Her short hair was accentuated by long glittering earrings. The man was of a darker complexion from her dad, with a bald head, and glasses. He too wore formal attire.

Who was taking the photo? Was it dad? Does dad know this man?

The more she thought about the stranger in the photo, the more anxious she became. She turned over the photo and found a note scribbled at the back which heightened her curiosity and fears.

‘To my dear Elenor, I had a wonderful time. Can’t wait to see you again! Love, Tyrone.’

Tyrone! Who the heck is Tyrone? Why does it say love Tyrone? And why were his lips on my mother’s neck?

She felt a hiccup in her heart and her mouth became dry.

Just breathe.

She tried to dismiss the question that crept into the inner most corners of her mind, but the intrusive thought took up permanence.

Is it possible that mom was having an affair?

Absolutely not, she rebuked herself. Mom and dad have always been madly in love with each other. This must be a family friend.

The photo was taken when she was in high school, she recognized the new haircut on her mother. Mrs. Forde was bored with her looks and tired of putting her shoulder length locks up in a bun. She made the decision to cut her hair after browsing through a fashion magazine. It was short and slicked back. Brianna recalled that dad disliked the new look, but he kept his opinion to himself after first expressing his displeasure.

She didn’t remember her mother going out at night without her dad so she thought dad must have taken the photo, therefore they both knew this man. Convincing herself though seemed futile. She recalled the times mom stayed late at her job as an event organizer, and it was dad who cooked dinner, tidied up, and reminded her to do her homework.

My mom was having an affair!

She gazed at the two strangers in the photo, her eyes suddenly filled with water again, this time not from the dust hanging in the air. A feeling of sadness embraced her. She embraced it back. The woman in the photo seemed unfamiliar to her. To Brianna, her church going, very religious mom would never have disregarded the vows she made with her husband. She struggled to believe that the assumed actions of the woman in the photo, embraced by another man, were those of the person she called her mother.

There’s a perfectly good explanation.

She laid the photo aside and hastily searched through the others for the one of her in the lion’s costume.

Disordering the sorting she had done, she placed the photos loosely back in the bin. She wanted to keep the one of Tyrone so she could show her mother but decided against it. She buried it under other photos. She needed answers that only her mother could give. But how to approach her? 

As she climbed the stairs, the smell of BBQ chicken floated toward her. If her thoughts were not preoccupied with the photo, she would have sensed the rumbling in her stomach. In the kitchen she could hear her parents talking. She walked over to her dad and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Hi dad. It smells good!”

“Bri honey, mom said you’re staying for lunch,” said Mr. Forde, hugging his daughter.

“Yea, I plan to. Do you need help?”

“No, honey, I got it under control. Come outside when you can,”

“I’ll be there shortly,” replied Brianna, walking over to the sink.

“Did you find the picture you were looking for? Let me see it,” said Mrs. Forde. “Oh yes, I remember that. You played that part well.”

“I did? You remember?” asked Brianna.

“Of course I remember. Haven’t started to lose my memory yet,” joked Mrs. Forde.

“Mom,”

“Yes, dear,”

Tiny drops of perspiration started to form by Brianna’s hairline. “Uhm, when I was looking through the bin, I found a photo of a man I don’t recognize.”

“Oh!”

Looking directly at the side view of her mom, she cautiously continued. “Yeah, the back of the photo says his name is Tyrone,”

At the mentioned of the name, Mrs. Forde stopped chopping the cucumber and stared blankly out the window.

“Mom.”

Ignoring her daughter, she returned to preparing the salad.

“Mom!”

Turning to her now and looking at her sternly, Mrs. Forde asked, “Where’s the photo?”

“Ahm, I left it in the bin. Who is Tyrone, mom?”

“That’s not for you to concern yourself with. Leave it alone,” replied Mrs. Forde as she turned back to the cucumber, chopping it with greater intensity.

“But mom,” Brianna pleaded softly.

“I said to leave it alone Brianna!” repeated Mrs. Forde, punctuating each word as she glared at her daughter.

After maintaining eye contact with her mother for what seemed an eternity, but was only seconds, Brianna turned her head away from her mother’s scowl. “I guess I’ll see if dad needs help.”

“You do that, dear,” replied Mrs. Forde.

Lunch went as expected. Brianna’s body language concealed the tension from the knowledge she now knew. The knowledge now brought to light was protected in silence by herself and her mother. Mr. Forde was none the wiser of the discussion the two women in his life had in the kitchen. With unbridled enthusiasm, he gloated about how perfectly barbequed his chicken was. Brianna limited the number of times she held eye contact with her mother. She felt blind sided. Dismissed. Guilty.

Years of drama classes had taught her to become another character, play different emotions. The character she assumed now had no revelation of the photo. She talked about Elie’s numerous activities and her husband’s demanding work schedule. She talked about the crazy weather they had been experiencing lately and the community theater production she was rehearsing for. And she talked about how wonderful the chicken had turned out.

 If her dad knew nothing of a Tyrone, the last thing she wanted to do was to be the one who introduced him. And if Mrs. Forde was concerned that Brianna might broach the topic of the picture, she exhibited no anxiety.

As Brianna drove now to pick up her daughter, she wondered if her mother did have a lover. She wondered if dad ever knew about him and if so, how did they manage that time in their lives. She wondered how her mother’s affair, if it was that, could have been kept from her, certainly there would have been signs. She had never heard her parents in a heated argument, they always appeared happy and loving toward each other. She decided then and there that she would bury the image of the photo in her memory, there it would stay, never to be brought up again by her.

Once Brianna had left and Mr. Forde was occupied with cleaning the grill, Mrs. Forde made her way down to the basement. She headed directly for the bin with the pictures. She pulled it down and began to go through them. Finding the one, she gazed at it for several minutes. She had not seen that picture for many years. For some reason she had held on to it, but she wasn’t able to explain why. She should have gotten rid of the picture the moment she received it but for some reason she did not or could not.

The two figures staring up at her brought back memories. They appeared happy. A smile surfaced on Mrs. Forde’s face. She turned the picture over and read the note. She read it several times. She now did what she knew she should have done years ago. She tore the picture into small pieces and once back upstairs, she placed the pieces in the bottom of the garbage bag then tied up the bag and walked it out to the garbage bin.

That was another life, another woman, she told herself as she walked over to her husband.