Chapter XVI: Bridges Burnt

(Disclaimer: There is some adult language in this post. Read at your own discretion.)

Everything has changed.

Mom is a different person now, if you can even call her a person. I'd call her a zombie. She doesn't even get out of bed in the morning, not even to take care of the triplets.

The other day I had to skip school because Timo and Mattei had finals and couldn't stay home with them. The school called. I heard Mom's cell phone ring, but she never even picked up. She didn't come out of her room all day.

I hate her. It's bad enough that Dad died. But she's our mother! She has six kids! She can't DO this! It's not fair to Timo and Mattei that they have to get up with the babies in the middle of the night, and it's not fair to me that I'm missing my senior year to stay at home and play mother to my little siblings.

I've tried the gentle route. I've tried talking to her, yelling at her, even dragging the blankets off her. But she just rolls over, doesn't say a word. She's so selfish! It's not like the rest of us didn't lose Dad, too. It's not like we don't miss him! But we still go on because we have to. Because that's what you do! Because the triplets need us!

What the hell does she think she's doing? She's so weak! If she's going to be so useless, I just wish she'd up and die, too.

* * *

Mom finally came out of her room just now, an hour after I'd put the triplets to bed. The boys are doing their homwork in their room, and I'm watching a show on TV while I eat ramen noodles for dinner. She doesn't even look at me, just goes straight to the fridge, gets out a container of yogurt and a spoon, and starts eating it at the sink. She doesn't say a word. I watch her expectantly, but when she finishes, she just goes right back into her room.

I can't help myself. “Bitch...” I mutter under my breath. She stops, halfway through the door and turns to look at me.

“Excuse me?”

I look her straight in the eye and raise an eyebrow. “Well, obviously you heard it the first time. Do you really want me to repeat myself?”

“Lilah Hemlock--” she starts, but I cut her off.

“Don't you even dare speak to me like I'm just a child! While you've been holed up in your own personal two-month pity party, the boys and I have kept this household running. We have had to cook, clean, and take care of ourselves, not to mention the triplets! Mattei even got a job at the funeral home so that we can pay the bills and keep the house. I bought that yogurt you just ate at the grocery store during my lunch period yesterday!” I could feel my voice rising, but I couldn't help myself: the last two months of built up grief and rage were blowing out of me like air from a popped balloon. “So don't you DARE act like any kind of parent right now, because you are NOT my mother! She died when Dad did!”

I feel the slap before I even see it coming. It stings and I feel a spreading heat on my cheek. I blink. Mom is staring at me, wide-eyed, hand still hovering stupidly in the air. I stare back at her for a few seconds, then realize my mouth is hanging open. I shut it abruptly, then turn and walk into my room, slamming the door behind me. She doesn't follow me.

* * *

Mom tried to come and talk to me after my outburst. But I locked my door. She tried the next day too, but I just ignored her. Then today, several weeks later, she comes out of her room while the boys are helping me feed the twins and makes an announcement.

“We're moving,” she says.

Shocked silence fills the room. I look at the boys for a clue to this sudden decision that maybe Mom's been keeping from me, but they look as surprised as I feel. Isabella chimes up, “Mama!” and reaches for Mom, and she absently strokes her hair, then faces the rest of us again.

“Your grandparents' house never sold, and it's bigger than this old place. It has more rooms, and a nice big yard for the triplets to play in, too. Timo and Mattei, you boys could have your own rooms. What do you guys think?” She smiles like she just invented Christmas or something.

I'd like to tell her exactly what I think, but I don't want the triplets picking up that kind of language. Ever since their birthday, they're fond of gaining attention through unsavory methods. I don't need another meeting with their elementary school principal right now.

“No,” I say, and Mom looks at me like I just refused money from the tooth fairy.

“No?” she echoes, confused.

“I'm not moving,” I insist. “This is our home. We grew up here. I'm not leaving.”

“But, Lilah, I really think we all need a fresh start.”

“We? I don't think this has anything to do with the rest of us. This is all about you, Mom, just like things usually are.”

“Lilah, please--”

“You can't deal with the memory of losing Dad, and you think moving somewhere else will just fix it. But that's not gonna work Mom. No matter where you live, Dad will still be gone.”

“Lilah!” Mom says sharply, and the triplets are staring at me wide-eyed now. Mattei and Timo are silent, but I see something like agreement in the set of Timo's jaw as I continue.

“Besides,” I add. “I'd hardly call the house dad grew up in a 'fresh start'. Just because you threw everything out and had the place gutted after Grampa died doesn't mean there aren't still memories haunting that place.”

“Grampa's house is haunted?” Inigo asks, voice filled with awe and not a little interest.

Mom has gone silent now, and her mouth is set in that firm line that says she's not changing her mind. She glares at me for a moment, then folds her arms.

“Pack up. Moving day is Saturday,” she says, and turns to go back to her room.

“I'm not moving!” I call after her. The only answer is the soft click of her bedroom door shutting behind her. I can feel my siblings eyes on me as I take the bowl of macaroni and cheese back to the counter. I put it down and sigh, gazing out the window at the coastline below. I meant it. I love this house. As many bad memories I have here, I have good ones too, and I won't trade those for the uncertainty of a new place, especially where Grampa might have even more metaphysical energy to waste on interfering in my life.

“I'm staying too,” Timo says, and I turn, surprised. He looks at me from under his shaggy mop of strawberry blonde hair and shrugs. “I like it here.” We both look at Mattei, but he's just pushing food around on his plate, avoiding our eyes. It's obvious he's already chosen. He's a born and bred mama's boy, and he'll follow Mom wherever she goes, even if it means leaving his twin and older sister behind. “You don't HAVE to do everything she says, Mattei,” I try, but he says nothing, and I sigh again. It's settled then.

I cross the living room and knock on Mom's door. She opens it and gives me an annoyed look. “You can go if you want, Mom, but Timo and I are staying,” I tell her.

She shakes her head. “Don't be ridiculous. I'm not going to move away and leave my children behind. We're all moving together.” Rolling my eyes, I sweep past her and close the door behind me. I hear Mattei reminding the triplets to eat their vegetables as I turn to face Mom, and I take a deep breath, preparing for battle. I am determined to do this in an adult fashion.

“First of all, Mom, we're not children. I'm eighteen, and Timo is almost seventeen.”

“No you're not! Your birthday isn't until...” Mom starts, then pauses, shocked.

“Last month,” I finish for her. “You slept through it. I baked a cake and everything.”

When she looks at me again, Mom has tears in her eyes. “Lilah... I missed your birthday?”

I simply nod. She steps close to me, and she looks like she wants a hug, but I just can't bring myself to humor her after everything she's put me through. “Anyway, I'm staying. Timo wants to stay too, and since I'm legally an adult, I can take care of him for one more year until he graduates.”

Mom looks away and seems to be intensely interested in the pattern of the wallpaper, but when she turns back to me, she seems to have softened. “Lilah, are you sure this is what you want?” I nod.

“Well... how would we do this? I mean, what was your plan?”

“You sign over the deed to the house to me,” I say matter-of-factly. I'm actually surprising myself with how well I've thought this through. I guess somewhere along the way I must have grown up.

“And Timo...?” she adds.

“He'll get an after-school job to help with groceries and bills, and when he's eighteen we can talk about it and see what he wants to do.”

Mom studies the wallpaper a bit more, then drops her head, defeated. She sighs. “Well, I guess you guys are practically adults now... You've certainly had to act like adults for awhile. If this is what you really want--” She peeks at me, and I fold my arms. “-- then I guess it's only fair for me to say yes.”

I breathe a mental sigh of relief. She steps toward me to embrace me. “Lilah, I'm so sorry about everything I've put you guys through...” she starts, but I step away.

“I don't want your apologies, Mom,” I answer, putting my hand on the doorknob. “I just want you to leave.” I walk out, closing her door-- and the proverbial door of our tenuous mother-daughter relationship-- behind me.

Timo looks up, and I give him a short nod, then move to the sink to start on dishes. Mattei gets up, brings his and the triplets' dishes to the sink, and heads to his room to start packing.

* * *

It's Sunday night. The moving van has already come and gone. The triplets' room and my room have been stripped bare of furniture, all my stuff having been moved into the master bedroom while we had the manpower readily available. We've already said goodbye to the triplets and Mattei, who are waiting by the door. Now we're down to Mom. She gives Timo and I each a hug, which I do not return, and assures us that there's “always room for us if we change our minds.” I don't bother to reply. She takes one last, sad look at us, then heads out to the car, the triplets walking out after her. Mattei attempts a half-smile, sheks Timo's hand, and mutters a meek goodbye, and then he's gone too.

Good riddance. I feel a short pang of regret at losing Mattei and the triplets, but mostly, I'm just relieved. I've been longing for my freedom from that woman for years, and now I finally have it. I close the door behind her, turn to face Timo, and grin. “Just you and me now, bro! How many teenagers own their own house, huh?”

He gives me a disgusted look, then turns and walks away. “I'll be in my room,” he says. I shrug. Well, at least I'm going to enjoy it! 

"That's the spirit!" Grampa says enthusiastically, and for once, I'm in too good a mood to tell him to buzz off.