The Diary of Existing

FIFTY ONE

That was what I remembered.

"I remember the fight you two had. How you blamed him because you were so frustrated at me crying." I said and my mother's smile faded, and she looked at me, surprised.

"That's what you remember?" She asked me, a loud tone of confusion in her voice. She looked at me, as if trying to search for whether or not I was being serious.

She set the picture frame down, tapped on the empty space beside her. Asking me to sit next to her. But I just stared at it, and I watched as pain just smeared across my mother's face. Pain from my rejection. Which to me, she deserved. She sighed and looked away from me, her eyes were staring at the window. Was she thinking of making a run for it? Walking out and leaving me here?

"Alex, I'm trying. I really am." She said, and I didn't know what the hell she was even talking about.

"That's not what had happened. Given, I shouldn't have slapped your father while you were there crying. What I should've done, which what all mothers would have, was pick you up and try to soothe you. But instead, I was busy putting my anger on your father, because I was selfish and thought about my pain before yours."

Pain? What pain was she even talking about?

"You probably don't believe me, I can't blame you. We've never really had the strongest relationship. We've always been so distant, there was always this gap or wall that just separated us. And again, it is my fault too." She looked at me, her eyes pleading, as if she was asking for forgiveness.

"The way I've been confronting you, from that day in front of the building where Dr. Palmer worked, towards that day I went to you at Queen Mary's. Those weren't the greatest approaches to trying to reconnect with you. And I've tried endlessly to figure out how exactly I was going to get through to you, how I was going to fix this and make it work."

I didn't even know what to say, or how to decipher whatever it was she was telling me. I was just standing there, listening to this utter bullshit spewing out of her mouth. What sorry excuse was this? Why am I just standing here?

"Stop lying to me then. Stop claiming that you're doing all this for me. Stop trying to act like your trying to be the greatest mother. Don't pretend like you care, don't act as if you are better than my father. Because he actually cares about me. Meanwhile, you take custody of me but shove me into an institution, then after that you take me away because my father threatens to take me away from you and so you decide to take me with you to another country, only to ship me off to a boarding school so you wouldn't be bothered to see my face." I started, my tone angry, and she sat there just taking it all in.

"Why? Is it because I remind you of him? Does seeing my face remind you of my father? Why? Can't you be bothered to actually admit it's your fault he cheated on you and not throw all that blame on me? Maybe if you were a better wife he wouldn't have cheated on you." I said and I could see the evident pain that was just all over her face.

It looked as if she wanted to cry. Did I hit the sweet spot?

Did I sound too mean?

I don't think I did. I feel as if she deserved all that. She does, doesn't she. She deserved to be told that upright. No one was going to tell her, because no one knew the truth about her. About who she was, that she wasn't some saint or amazing mother, stuff that she leads her readers to believe.

"I don't blame you for anything." She sat there, her face serious. She wiped away the pain that I saw earlier, and replaced it with whatever mask she had on to defend herself.

"What happened between me and your father, the cheating and all that, is between me and him. You were caught in the crossfire because I wanted you by my side when he wanted the same thing. You won't know that, because you've lived with me. And because I've been so bitter about my life with your father that it spills all towards you. And I hate myself every day for it. I hate myself everyday for the fact that I was and continued to be a terrible mother to you." She started. Is there another monologue she had practiced?