For The Love of a Mother

“If life were about the same things to everybody, there would be no dismay, no dissatisfaction, no difference, no curiosity, no intrigue, no misunderstandings and no individuality.

“A world like that is painted in black and white, where minds don’t need to be read, but neither do they need to connect. In a world like that, there would be no need to reach out. But I guess it’s equally important what it is that it’s about.”

“I cannot imagine a world that is all about love, but a world with chaos and pain and suffering, with angry, endlessly greedy people, I can. Because we are generally told about those things, for our awareness, for some level of prevention, and education, was it?

“And more and more, day by day, we are being taught that fairytales remain fairytales. And you better know just where to stop dreaming.

“It’s all very well when you know where to draw the line. Because I don’t think you can find happiness like Taby.”

“Taby woke up at 6 every morning. She took a shower, brushed her teeth, washed her face and brushed her hair. She put on the same black suit with another pastel-colored shirt underneath. She sat down alone, drinking coffee with the cup in her right hand and the paper in her left. If she were hungry, which she generally would not be, she would take a piece of bread and slab on a layer of the same strawberry jam. After breakfast, she would pick up her briefcase, her car keys and step out of her little flat.

“Mrs. Liam on the first floor would be in the little lawn, prodding at some potted plant, once again ignoring Taby’s existence. Taby wasn’t bothered. She didn’t like old people anyway –”

Gasp. Little Colleen had her bright green eyes wide, like coins, a mouth with a perfect O, genuinely shocked and disapproving.

I gave her a little pat over the covers I tucked her in, sharing a stern look with her.

“Yes, she didn’t like old people.

“So she went to work, in her little gray car. When it rained, she frowned. When it was cloudy, she frowned. When it was sunny, still she frowned. She wasn’t very happy, clearly.”

Colleen’s face, the size of a man’s palm, crumpled, with a look of dismay only a four-year old could have.

“Momma, I don’t think you need to finish the story.”

My fingers trailed lightly past her pretty little face and swept the strand of strawberry blond silk right above her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. “Why not, sweetie?”

“Because I already know what you’re going to say.” She squirmed in the covers, sitting up.

I crinkled my nose, the way I always did because it made my little girl giggle. “Oh, really?”

She swallowed her little fits of giggles and tried very hard to keep a straight face. Then she breathed again and spoke with the maturity of the seventeen year old me, “Because we have to learn how to dream, have to learn how to want to fly, to never worry too much, but always know how to keep it together.”

I was sad, for a moment. But I never stay sad for long when I look at this little girl. I gave her perfect little nose a playful tap. “Do you even understand half the things you’re saying?”

“Yes, Momma.”

Serious, so serious, so hard to doubt… but she was just a child.

Her next words made none of the worries I had matter anymore. “Momma, I love you, and I’m not going to love only you, but I will always love you.”

Strange for a little girl to say that, so I asked why.

“You taught me that if you loved, you will be loved, right? But Papa said that you love because you want to.”

I stopped smiling, jaw rigid. But I’d had so much practice, it took only half a second to loosen it and plaster a smile. “Yes, sweetie, he’s right.”

She looked at me, blinking eyes, lashes long, innocence spelled out in every speck of light in them. I exhaled heavily, letting my eyes shut.

When I opened them, she had wriggled back into the quilt my mother made, fitted tightly around her in her princess bed, not a single word said. I reached for the nightlights at the side of the bed, pulling the string that switched it off. Colleen was only six but she was already okay with the dark.

In the dark, I tried to find some peace of mind, until I opened my mouth again.

“So? What do you want?” I sighed, because I already saw Colleen’s wide eyes fixated at the door when she spoke of her father.

I turned and saw my whole world moving, not exactly breaking, then reassemble, right there onto my daughter’s room door’s floor, with a glimpse of the nineteen-year old boy that was, and now deemed to be a man in anyone’s book.

When you get knocked up at 18, no one really tells you anything.

There are no fairy godmothers to grant second chances, or friends that’ll go and punch the boy’s guts out, no rewind button, and God is watching, along with the rest of the world, your world, waiting for whatever your next choice is, whatever it may be.

No one tells you what to do. The level of sensitivity of the issue overrules any friendship, any relationship and family ties. Everyone says the same thing, “I’ll be here for you, no matter what.”

It would be so much easier for someone to just tell you what to do.

I’m not that girl, not those girls. I’m not the popular girl or the rebel girl who would just… take out the thing! Neither was I the girl who just had an “OHMIGOD, this is impossible!” moment because of how sweet she generally was and it’s so unexpected and would press herself through the situation because it was the right thing to do. Nor was I the girl with her whole future ahead of her, facing a difficult choice.

I was the girl, with a pleasant family that still has those frequent bedroom fights, average B grades with the occasional C’s and A’s, hates P.E. but gets off okay and wasn’t on any sports team, skipped classes, got into trouble, dated a couple of morons and experimented with my interests in life, changing ambitions by the week.

You know, the nothing-special girl? People kind of know your name, they remember your face but that’s it. And you don’t really care.

It happened. It just happened.

“We’re not going to try anything.” I pushed him off when he leaned about an inch closer.

He laughed and shrugged. “I can live with that.”

We both knew he wasn’t exactly about to try anything. We weren’t. Sitting by the kitchen counter, next to each other, there was no spark. But what I felt was the aftermath of one, just very, very warm.

To be clear, he didn’t take a hike, ditch me with no sense of responsibility. Before he could get his full proposal out, I had said no. Because between all the doctor’s appointments, relative calls, friends’ visits, I realized the chaos would only multiply by the person who came into my life.

Mom and Dad moved out of their house into a cottage off the coast of California, which was not too far away so that they could always see their granddaughter when they wanted to, just an hour’s drive. I took of the house and got a job at my brother, Kyle’s law firm. When Colleen turned three, I started college, studying studio art, photography. Dad’s old friend, Mr. Barnes was close to retirement and offered for me to buy over his business which I managed with loans and a little help from Kyle. Kyle and his wife, Leona, living a five-minute drive away, have had two children of their own and Leona was always happy enough to take care of Colleen when I had business to attend to.

Everything just worked out. God’s will, I say.

Colleen’s father, Devon took a trip after I’d interrupted his proposal. He started backpacking all around Europe and now owned a cozy little restaurant of his own. He transferred money into my account monthly, sent emails checking on how Colleen was doing and did everything a father would’ve on a business trip. Except I had been convinced he was never coming back.

There was probably sadness, there’s no point denying it. But there was no heartbreak, no point of which we tore each other apart and cried and wanted badly, so badly to fix things. It was a whole full stop and a flip into the next page, into different chapters. Left behind with an apparent mark but nothing to cry over, just a little to sigh about.

He was the boyfriend that made you feel like, finally, I got one right! And that was it.

But things never got worse, if they didn't get better. So I was in contentment.

“I’m coming back here,” he declared slowly, nodding, “home.”

I just looked at him.

“We’re not going to get back together,” he said it and it wasn’t a question.

The beer in his hands met the wine glass in mine, the clink they made was a rather strange one.

“For Colleen,” I smiled up to that handsome face of his. No spark, just warmth. So safe.

He grinned back at me, “To Colleen,” he paused, “by the way, what type of bedtime stories have you been telling our little girl?”

Looking at his face to be positive that it was a tease, I thwacked him in his arm when I saw that old twinkle in his eyes. We laughed and everything just melted into the night. Things were going right.

We were going to be alright.

And so, next chapter, I listened to his plans for the future on opening a second restaurant right here Glendale and hoped for this peace to remain, if not for a new height of happiness.