(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.