Binding 13

20

Mother knows best – only in the movies

Sha

When I woke up for school on Wednesday morning, my mother was waiting for me.

In my rush to get out of the house – and away from my father – I almost didn’t see her.

It was only when I stopped in the hall to retrieve my coat that I noticed her sitting at the kitchen table, clasping a mug of coffee between her hands.

"Mam?" I frowned at the sight of her.

She looked exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes, complexion pale and gaunt.

She was wrapped up in her old, frayed, polka-dot dressing gown – the last Christmas present Darren had given her before he left.

Abandoning my coat on the baluster, I wandered into the kitchen. "What are you doing up?"

"Sha

I did because it was so unusual to see her at this time of morning, and I knew something was wrong.

I checked my watch, making sure that I hadn't accidently slept in or something. 05:45.

Nope, I was early and something was definitely wrong.

Scraping a chair back, I lowered myself into the seat opposite her and asked, "What's going on, Mam?"

"Can't I get up to see you off to school?"

No.

Not really.

Not at all.

My silent response must have spoken volumes because Mam set her mug down and reached for my hand.

"Sha

That was a lie.

I wasn’t her special anything.

Darren was her favorite, and when he left, Mam was never the same.

In truth, between shifts at work and taking care of the younger kids, she barely noticed me.

I loved my mother, I truly did, but that didn’t mean I didn’t resent her weakness, which I did.

A lot.

Uncomfortable, I slid my hand out from beneath hers and asked, "Did you sign my permission slip for the school trip to Donegal?"

I knew she hadn't.

It was still on top of the bread bin – unsigned.

"I'm not comfortable with you being so far from home, Sha

Exactly.

"I want to go, Mam," I whispered. "Claire and Lizzie are going and I really want to go. I need to have the permission slip handed in before Friday – otherwise they won't let me go."

Okay, so that was a lie, I had until after the holidays to hand in the form, but putting the pressure on her was the only chance I had of getting her to sign those forms

"What if something happens to you up there?" Mam offered. "What if someone goes at you?"

"There's more chance of that happening in this house," I muttered under my breath.

Mam flinched. "Sha

"Did he tell you what happened last night?" I bit out, knowing that this was what she wanted to talk to me about – what she wanted to make sure I didn’t talk about.

Straightening my shoulders, I stared across the table at my mother. "Did he tell you what he did to Joey?"

"He has a name," Mam said in a tight voice.

"Did he tell you?" was all I replied.

"Yes, your father told me what happened," she finally replied.

"And that's it?" I leaned back in my chair and studied her face. "That's all you have to say about it?"

"Sha

"He split Joey's lip, Mam!" I swallowed down the lump in my throat. "Over a packet of biscuits. And if he's worried about money then maybe he should stop gambling and drinking the children's allowance money!"

My mother flinched at my words, but I was glad I had spoken them.

It needed to be said.

I just wished she start listening.

"Your father told me you were late home from school," she continued to say. "He was very upset about a picture of you in the paper –"

"It was a school picture!"

"With a boy?"

"Oh my god," I cried. "Not you, too."

"No." She shook her head. "Of course not. I understand these things, but your father was very upset over it. You know how he gets –"

"So, it's my fault he beat my brother and tried to strangle me?" I choked back the sob of outrage threatening to burst out of me. "For getting home late, or having a school picture taken, or for moving to Tommen? Which one, Mam? Or is everything I do wrong? Am I to blame for everything that goes wrong in this family?"

"No, of course it's not your fault, Sha

I cut her off with a shake of my head.

"Stop defending him," I hissed, keeping my voice low as to not wake the man who had been successfully ruining my life every day since March 13^th of 1989 – the day I entered this world and toxic fucking family. "Just stop, Mam! Nothing you ever say helps. It just keeps happening over and over again. So just stop apologizing and trying to explain his behavior away. We're tired of hearing it."

"I'm doing the best I can, Sha

"For who, Mam?"

Her eyes flashed with anger when she looked at me and spat, "For my family."

"For him," I muttered under my breath.

My mother flinched, but I didn’t take my words back.

They were the truth.

"You can't speak to me like this," she snapped. "You have no idea how hard it is coming home every night to world war three."

I didn’t respond.

I had nothing to say.

If she truly believed that I didn’t know what it felt like to live in a warzone, then she was delusional as well as a neglectful mother.

"I'm tired of this, Sha

"Well join the club, Mam," I bit out. "We're all tired of living like this."

"Don’t cheek me," she warned. "I won't put up with it, Sha

"My father?" I filled in for her, tone high and pitchy. "That's what you were going to say, wasn’t it, Mam? You're going to tell him on me?"

"You need to show me some respect, Sha

"Well, I don’t appreciate being called a whore every time I walk through the front door," I choked out, my emotions spilling over.

Guilt for upsetting my mother was churning inside of me, mixing with a lifetime's worth of resentment, fear, and anger.

"Because that's what he calls me, Mam," I strangled out hoarsely. "According to my father, I'm nothing but a dirty whore."

"He was worried about you," she replied. "He didn’t know how you got home last night."

"He was worried about me so he called me a whore?" I shook my head, appalled. "Because that makes sense."