If you love me

“If you love me, where were you when I needed you?” With a cold lifeless expression, Grace shook off those red nails digging into her skin. Her feet were almost stuck to the ground, but she garnered up just enough strength to turn and walk away. To walk away from the woman whom she had known her face but not her heart. The woman who were present in photographs but absent from her life. The woman whose stone heart had her desperately punching walls to get into but the only thing that ever broke was her own heart.

The elevator reached just in time. Grace walked inside as her trembling fingers reached for the buttons. A deep sigh escaped her stuffy chest as the doors slowly closed. But all of a sudden, the hand reached in between the doors, forcing the elevator to open its door again.

“NO! You can’t do this to me! I am your mother!” The woman rushed in and wrapped her red nails around Grace’s hand again. “Listen, love, let’s talk through this calmly again. You don’t have to move out! I love you so much!”

Love. The mere sound of this simple, probably most romanticized word ever in the world is enough to send shivers down Grace’s entire frame. Nausea swiped over her as the doors started to close again. Grace looked at the woman standing in front of her, a ball of anger, desperation and bewilderment all meshed up together. Her animated gestures as she launched into an elaborate plea to get Grace to change her mind. She could no longer hear anything as she felt her stomach start to churn a bit, as cold sweat formed around her forehead.

Suddenly all she could see was that memory again flashing back in her mind. She was that boisterous little girl again in her new pink ballet flats, licking a strawberry ice cream while running through the soft grass, pulling a cinderella helium balloon with her. A butterfly caught her eyes, its wings having the most unique combination of orange radiance calling her to follow. “Grace! Come back!” A voice shouted from behind her but it didn’t mattered to her. All that mattered in her three-year-old innocent mind was to catch that butterfly. She ran and ran and ran, without a care of anything else in the world. The joy was short-lived when she stepped on a slippery rock which threw her off balance as her ankle gave way. Her head landed on more rocks and the pain was so excruciating for her that she instantly teared up, dropping the ice cream as her balloon flew up into the sky. “Grace!” She heard her mother running towards her. She expected comforts and hugs. But there were none. “I told you not to run!” Instead, before she could see the red nails coming, she already felt the burning sting on her cheek where her mother’s hand mercilessly landed on.

BAM!

The loud thud shook Grace back to reality. Before she could get her self back again, the lights flickered abruptly then went out completely as the ventilation stopped.

“Oh no! What should we do now?” Her mother exclaimed as she desperately punched the help button on the panel. The anxiety and fear evident in her tone. She threw out the contents of her bag, rummaging through the pile for anything that would be useful.

Grace felt an odd sense of calm despite the stale air and darkness. Surprisingly, seeing her like that, gave her a sense of relief. Her mother whom she had worshiped all her life no longer seem so powerful as she were made to believe after all. Weirdly, a new surge of courage overflowed from her. It was as if she could finally speak the words that she had hidden for so long.

“Mum… I had been scared like this too. But if you love me, where were you when I needed you?”

Helen stopped short. Taken aback, she could not believe her ears. What is that silly girl talking about? She wondered.

 “Mum…I had always wanted to be loved by you but it was never enough for you…” Grace felt tears uncontrollably rolled down as she recalled the painful past memories. Of how her mother would always slap her whenever her ballet performance fell short of her ‘perfect’. Of how she always dismissed and cut her short whenever Grace tries to share interesting happenings in school. Of the countless times she blamed herself for not being worthy of her mother’s love. Of the many nights she would be shaken up by the nightmare of Helen telling her she is too lousy for anything.

It was not always painful times though. Overwhelming her with motherly hugs and affectionate kisses whenever neighbors were around was a common scene. Lavish gifts usually came after lectures of how she should not attend the mass media course as Helen thought that it is for losers, and after Grace obediently but reluctantly changed her choice for banking, something that Helen felt was more appropriate. Whenever Grace chose to follow her mother’s choice, she would be given a generous allowance, usually accompanied by a smile and look of approval. “That’s my good daughter that I love so much.”

Times like those confused Grace more.

Is this what love feels like?

I will be loved if I listen to her all the time.

I should not do things to upset her because she loves me.

If you love me, you would...

These thoughts grappled her mind all the time. It became even harder and harder to fall into restful sleep. She would often jerked up awake in the middle of night, the anxiety churning up her stomach contents. She tried all kinds of ways – drowning herself in work, taking sleeping pills, even using a penknife to slash her wrist just to numb out the pain. But nothing helped, until she was hospitalized for overdosing on sleeping pills.

“Mum, do you know I almost died from an overdose of sleeping pill?”

For the first time in Grace’s entire life, she was doing most of the talking in the conversation. Helen could not seem to be able to find anything to rebuke as she was still in shock from her daughter’s first overt confrontation. Helen was not used to her daughter being like this. She had spent her entire life being the Mother, the one who give commands so her daughter will not end up making mistakes.

“After I woke up on that hospital bed, they sent me to a therapist. Do you know what the therapist told me?”

Helen was in disbelief. Overdose? Sleeping pills? What the hell happened to my perfect daughter? I spent my entire life trying to groom her into the perfect person she is meant to be, how can she do this to me???

“For the first time in my life, someone told me I was worthy of love even if I am not doing whatever you want me to do. I should not be spending my entire life trying to please you. Do you know that I hated ballet so much? But you kept insisting I do it."

Helen lost it. “WHAT NONSENSE ARE YOU UTTERING ABOUT!” She could no longer contain her anger. Instinctively, she stretched out her hand and aimed towards Grace. But this time round, before she could strike her face, Grace’s hand held her wrist with all her might. With a swift movement, Grace pushed her away, causing Helen to lose balance backward and landed on the floor.

“HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO ME! I AM YOUR MOTHER! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!” Helen was in hysteria, the frustration seething in her arteries.

“Stop saying you love me. You love me only because you saw me as an extension of yourself. But I don’t belong to you. I have my own life to lead too.” Amidst tears and mucus, Grace found herself manage to echo out the words she had rehearsed multiple times with her therapist. To the exact audience she needed to say this to. It was painful but there was empowerment and a sense of triumph.

The tense atmosphere was interrupted as the lights slowly flickered back on again. The maintenance staff outside pulled as much as possible and finally the doors started to open again. He was greeted by a young lady shaking and supporting herself by holding the grab bar and a middle-aged woman sitting on the floor in dismay. He held out his hand to the young lady but she refused as she staggered out.

“Mum, thanks for teaching me how to take care of myself when you were never around for me. I don’t need anyone to feel worthy of love now anymore. I will be the one to love myself. Now it’s time to say good bye. If you really love me, please, just let me go…”