Unsinged

I was numb.

The sting of betrayal streaming down my face.

Acrimony filled my soul as I searched the room for someone to protect me, but no one showed up.

“You have always been a drama queen!” She shouted at me.

I stiffened my body to brace for the onslaught of blows.

The rain drops splattered on the car windshield further blinding my view of the road. The night was the blackest that it’s ever been in years and in some sinister way it reflected the darkness that was invading inside my body, as I neared closer to my destination. I suffered from the eye disease keratoconus and the head lights of all the cars headed in the opposite direction were distorted fringes, which blinded me severely and made me distrust every maneuver I made with the vehicle. I should not have been driving but this was a last minute decision and there was no other alternative. So I made the long journey, on my own, on the darkest night of December.

The invitation found its way into my mail box again. I was hoping that they would take a hint after sending the invitation five consecutive years and me refusing to show. So this was the sixth invitation I received, but I was nudged into believing that after 24 years of avoiding them, it was time to face them. I knew deep inside that what I was hoping for would never come to because judging the past, a pack of hyenas had more compassion. In the animal kingdom, it was understood that the herd or the pack protect the vulnerable, for example if a herd of elephants were to graze dangerously close to a pride of lions, they would form a protective barrier around their calves, the injured or the sick. But the best way to describe my family was,

“Save yourselves!”

My spirit was uneasy. You see I was too impulsive; I never took the time to rationalize my behavior. It was like I enjoyed living life walking on a tightrope. As I started my engine my spirit kept probing me to turn back, it knew that I was walking into the eye of the storm but somewhere deep within me I liked enduring pain or purification. It was like I convinced myself that I needed to spend more time in the crucible. I believed that after years of living in hell that I had the back bone for fire, but I never took into consideration that I was being presumptuous and at times there was an alternative route to come out of the furnace unsigned.

Are you ready for this?

As I turned into the driveway, I was greeted with a sudden bout of nausea. My entire body rejected the idea of my return. My palms were clammy and my breathing became laboured. I was very impatient with myself because I was convinced that I was mature enough to handle coming back but on the contrary, I was resorting to my old habits. My reaction was reminiscent if the frightened little girl but I wanted to present myself as an assertive, brave and capable woman. I sat in the car trying to find the woman that drove out of the driveway and who found the courage make it this far.

I let go of all my inhibitions and swung opened my car door. After all I was driving BMW, that in and of itself was a statement enough. Knowing the people living in the house, someone was peeping out the window and they were in awe. I inhaled deeply and adjusted my two thousand dollars Gucci bag and stumped my black Prada boots on the cemented walkway. My Brazilian hair weave cascaded down my shoulder as I strutted to the front door, but before I could knock, the door flew opened and I was greeted by the too familiar crooked teeth smile.

“Heather, I am so glad you finally made it!” I felt a knot growing in my stomach but I remained poised.

The blinking Christmas lights on the door frame made my eyes blur and all I could make out in the drawing room were some distorted figures.

I really need to do this eye surgery before I go completely blind.

Aunt Gemma guided me inside and smiled with pride as the other members of the family gathered around. The house had not changed one bit, I felt like I had walked straight from the present into my past. My heart sank as I was invited to sit on the worn out sofa, covered with the stains of decades in use. I smiled nervously at them as they stared back at me, waiting for me to utter a word. The house was filled with the aroma of cider and baked turkey, the table was set with my mother’s traditional Christmas dinner dishes and everyone was dressed in their holiday best.

“I hear you doing well for yourself in the city,” my brother chimed. His voice was a bit loud as if he was trying to fill the silence in the room.

I smiled back at him, “Yes I’m doing fine, I just graduated with a Master’s degree in International Relations and my PR firm promoted me to Regional Manager. I start on January 2^nd.”

As my eyes searched the room, I saw that they all were beaming with pride as I spoke of my accomplishments, but as my eyes settled in the corner of the room, I saw my mother’s face, her eyes cold and frigid piercing a hole into my jacket. She was unimpressed and as usual there was no love in her body language for me. It was like she did not want me there and she was wishing that I would just leave.

Why they would keep sending me an invitation when she did not want me here? I wondered. I was hoping that something within her had changed and that she wanted to make amends but from the distance she kept, she made it clear that she remained unchanged and unscathed in reference to me.

My heart broke.

My mother finally announced dinner. I was stuck on the couch. My body refused to get up and join my family at the dinner table. My mother kept looking at me over the rim of her glasses. Her constant glances should have obligated me to get up quickly and joined them but instead it left me frozen.

Why does she still have this effect on me after all these years? I spent thousands of dollars on therapy but when put to the test it was obviously a failure. The designer shoes, bag and jacket still could not make me fearless, their advertising was a hoax. I had to will myself to get off the couch and by then everyone was at looking me with apprehension gripping their face. As I rose and slowly made my way to the dinner table, I saw at the corner of my eye my mother mumbling something beneath her breath. Her body language was stiff and indifferent, she always had a way of showing very little emotion and what girl wanted a stoic mother. As the nurturing a mother needed to be compassionate and intuitive but my mother was harsh and saw me as a threat.

We held hands and said grace. Then we sat and dug in. I could not eat. Breaking bread with them meant that everything was fine and that was far from the truth. I sat staring at my plate of food, resentment and bitterness stole my appetite. I needed to go but couldn’t. My brother kept looking at me, with hope in his eyes, but he was living a fantasy. What I experienced in this home was only a figment of my imagination to him. Mom made him believe that I was responsible for my demise and he believed it because she treated him completely different from me. She loved her son, she treasured her son and she babied her son. She never wanted a daughter, I guess she hated herself and having me was a reflection of whom or what she was. For the most part of my life she ignored me, and I was left loveless when my father walked away. She blamed me for our Dad leaving. She said I was too needy and that I never knew how to behave like a child, she said I wanted all the attention all the time and she could not give me nor him what we needed. She said I came between her and her happiness.

Bitch!

“Aren’t you going to eat your lunch, sis,” Curtis asked.

“I’m not really hungry and I don’t really eat any of the things on the menu, too much grease, all the years of unhealthy food left me with bad indigestion.”

“Who made unhealthy foods?” she asked with an offended look on her face.

“Well as a child I was only fed junk, the healthier options were never for me, not to mention the anxiety I experience wrecked havoc also.”

Mom shifted herself in the chair and then placed her hands under her chin and then slowly began to speak.

“So what you’re saying, is that your childhood was so terrible that it caused a stomach problem. Aren’t you tired of blaming others for your own destructive behavior?”

I took some deep breaths, grabbed my fork and focused on the vegetables. I ignored her combative stare as Curtis tried to change the conversation.

“Cousin Wendy, don’t you have a dilemma, where you’re not sure of what degree to study? Why don’t you consult Heather/?

“Why should she consult Heather, is Heather the only one on this table or in this family that has any sense? Just because she drove in with a fancy car and clothes that does not mean that she has it all, we all have some measure of success,” Mom snared.

Well at least she noticed my car and clothes that the most she’d ever notice about me.

“She never wanted to be a part of this family; she always felt that she was better than all of us. She is so ungrateful she left here and never once called to see if we were alive. She does not want to be a member of this family and we should grant her the wish.”

“Mom would you please stop attacking her,” Curtis pleaded. She looked at him from the corner of her eyes and then she took a big gulp of her cider.

I felt a tantrum coming and I needed to go. The voice inside me kept on repeating. You’re an adult, act like one. You need to be able to process rejection better. You know your Mom is an uneducated, uncultured woman, who would not conform. You need to be the bigger person and rise higher. The voice pleaded with me, please rise higher.

I pushed the chair and announced, “It’s time for me to leave, and I would not resort to my childish ways and entertain your insults”

Curtis dropped his fork, “Sis you can’t leave, and you just got here.”

“Just let her leave, she is nothing but bad vibes.” Mom shouted and her eyes glistening with contempt.

I looked across the room and everyone’s head was down in their plate, ignoring the entire show down.

This was typical of them, pretend not to see or hear anything, just let the dragon roar and destroy everything in her way. Close up doors, board up windows let the storm pass and then hope in the morning that the sun comes out as if nothing had happened. But something did happen and though the sun was out, evidence of the tempestuous night remained. The evidence stood before them that evening and still, they ignored.

As I stood there looking at them I realized that I have always been easy for them to ignore. My emotions, my mental and physical well being meant nothing to them. Even after all these years, I was still viewed as insignificant; someone not worth the hassle of defending or even a rescue.

I realized that the only thing that had changed in the room was me. The house looked the same and the people living there were the same. I left because I wanted to be different and coming back was me returning to old habits. I should not have come and expected people to be different. If Mom had change she would have reached out to be, after all a real parent would always reach out to an estranged child. She never felt the need to because I meant nothing to her.

I held on to my Gucci bag and strutted out of the house. She was yelling something behind me but my ears were already closed to her. I pressed the alarm for my car and as its headlights blinked, I saw the shadow of Curtis following me.

“Heather please come back inside he begged.” I looked at his face and I felt nothing, he, over the years enabled her and he never once stood up for me. He never confronted her on her abuse towards me. He was an adult man now and all he was prepared to do was to ask her to stop.

“You know what hurt me the most? You allowed your children to stand witness to the way she treats me. I refuse to be seen as the rejected one, the Azazel to another generation of this family, I would never cone back!”

As I looked over his shoulder, it struck me. The house remained the same and so did the people living there. But I had changed and I was better and that was all that mattered.