Chapter 19 - Nineteen Shivers

I swallowed hard with my neck tightened. Mother...

The bitch who demanded my youngest child be named after her, so I would never get away from her influence, even if she died (a notion she loved to squeeze around my neck for fresh guilt).

A trembling moment of cold through my limbs nearly made me drop my phone. Mark and Riona both stopped to watch my face. They drew close, but I assured them I was fine a little too much.

After a few breaths, I resigned, "Grandma just texted me that she's stopping by." I hid as much pain as I could. As usual, they were delighted. Mark loudly wondered if she brought candy and Riona hoped that she would like her skirt.

My little girl carried so much of mom with just a name, but I urged myself not to let the shape of the cruelty pushed on me shape her cruelly too.

Still, mom emerged, squirming from the kindness from my grandparents. What could I possibly do better? Just my best, I desperately hoped.

Out of all the uncertainty and strangeness of the night with whatever was going on with that blond lady and that paranormal site guy and the spooks around me, mom worried me the most.

On the way back, we stopped by houses we'd missed. It was enough to delay the finality of returning to the old house. But not enough to put my mother out of mind.

What could I say this time better than I or John had ever tried to say before? I wasn't a performer trying to wow her. Grandpa couldn't even do that in his best days at the old theater.

I could breathe. At least, I could try. I also didn't need to beat her at her games, because she was the one who set and changed the rules.

Anger was good to warm me up on the slow trip home. It flowed through me like bitter root tea. But it had no place when I faced her. My uncle lost that way.

A little hand squeezed mine. I looked over as Riona grimaced. My hand settled down her lovely, brilliant hair as I crouched beside her. I waited till Mark was watching too and brushed his hair back as well. He fussed more.

"I hope you both had a fun time. You got to go with Uncle John and then we went out together."

Riona's little nose looked a little red. She brushed it with the back of her hand. I handed her a tissue from my purse and she used it up completely.

Mark rubbed his nose too, starting with his sleeve, but I made sure he cleaned up with a tissue. When they felt a little better, Riona answered, "It was fun. Thank you, mommy."

"YEAH! LOTS OF...lots of fun." Mark flashed some teeth even as he dialed down his voice so it didn't echo on the sidewalk.

My kids. I had no idea what to do with them sometimes. I wanted to cry in a shower. But it felt perfect to hold them in this moment. This is what being a mom is, Mother...

The good and the bad. The moments when I needed to be firm as their sugar appetites lead them into a stranger's house. And the moments where being consistent, sincere, and earnest really gets through, despite my fears and doubts.

I didn't rush the steps back. I took them proudly with my kids.

Her glossy, perfect little white car blocked the way for John's truck even though she could've driven up alongside or past. I took long breaths of the clear air as we approached the side door. John was there.

He had on a grim look. I stopped his next words. I knew. The kids lingered happily with him in the kitchen as they sorted through their haul. I stepped towards the front.

The hallway leading to the master bedroom and bath was dark. I could feel a familiar silhouette. The chill of the outside along with the freezing uncertainty washed through the warmth of my anger and sweaty tension.

Instead of balance, it just made me feel worse. Setting my feet, I started, "Mom. We're back. What did you need?"

I let the words float in the air as she stood there. Despite the darkness of her shape, I knew it was her. I could never forget her shape.

Barely-tamed red hair that sought to burn over mine. A figure perfectly arranged for seriousness. Looming despite sharing my height.

I hated that she remained silent, half-turned. She was waiting me out. This was one of those games she always played to be in control of others, in control of me.

I had to wait on her to choose how she would answer me. Show she was in charge and I was still just a little child stumbling at the feet of the queen.

I could wait. I had resolve. One of my high school teachers, who must've had the subject for some class or seminar she was taking at the time, went on about communication. She mentioned stuff like self-interruption and waiting for others to talk.

It didn't work on my mom and it didn't convince the bitches to stop treating me like trash. It only worked in grandpa's detective shows. Take a perp in and let them sweat and spill the beans.

God! Damn you, Riona! Filling the space between my words with your controlling silence. I should've kept at it, but she knew how to push my buttons.

"...Well? What is it? Say something....What do you want?"

Still, she lingered in the dark without giving me any sense of release. She made the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I hated it so much. I hated her!...I...stop.

What are you doing, Lacy? This is just what she wants: You freaking out as she stands in judgment of you. I let the anger filter down as I shook off the cold like a wet, first snowfall brushed from my shoulders.

"I don't have time for this game. I have my kids. I want to hear them talk about how great their time out was. I want to see them smile. Did you ever want that?"

The silence was her answer. She shifted in place but couldn't even turn to look at me. A strange ease came upon me. "I know what you want. You want me to be scared. You want to take my calm from me like you took the best from my grandparents. But you don't matter. You're small and weak and you need others to survive. We're strong. I'm strong. And it's over. I refuse to suffer. I refuse to be scared."

A smothering, dusty heat pressed at me like a cough with tears wrapping around my lungs. I puffed and it retreated. The shadow of Riona seemed to hunch over as she slipped towards the open bathroom, hopefully, to flush herself away.

Peeking, my eyes snapped open as I flicked on the overhead light. No one was there.

As I scanned the room for where she could've gone, I heard that familiar voice, the voice which dug into me and refused to let me have serenity.

"Lacy. What are you doing? Why are you talking to the walls like a crazy person?"

She was there. Made up much like her shadow but in the flesh. She squished a piece of that purple candy in her red-nailed fingers, not open but the jagged edge was wearing out from her grip. What would Riona as more herself be?

I checked the bathroom one last time. Still nothing. No shadows. No monsters there. The monster was in front of me. I took a deep, thought-clearing breath and faced my mother.

She looked tired, but that didn't mean anything. I breathed calmly so it wouldn't look like I was sighing or trying to do anything aggressive or submissive towards her.

"...So, what was all that?" Her words nipped at me without biting.

"All what?" An easy, practiced response.

She puffed through her thin nostrils as she fumbled with the wrapper on the purple candy. "Talking to a wall. Going off about kids. Rambling like an idiot. All that."

"What about it?"

She stabbed a nail through the distressed wrapping and tore it open. "Because I want to know what the Hell is wrong with you."

"Why?"

She started a snarl but pulled it back as she downed the discolored candy without a second thought. Only when the candy was down did she speak her next words, "Because I'm your mother."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't abort you."

Yeah...she was more herself than ever.

"Why?" I felt like I was a child with too many questions, but it was momentum.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"Money from my parents' guilt. Where are they?"

I knew that my grandparents helped out with my birth financially, but she'd never stated it so ruthlessly. Usually, she lamented how she was the victim and earned every dollar.

"They're fine. Why?"

"I want to see my parents. Because they're my parents and I don't trust you with them. And I don't trust you with them, because you're still just an irresponsible child."

She was taking away my paths of words ahead, taking control back. I stood firm though and persisted, "Why do you think that?"

Looming mentally, she nearly blotted out my response in her answer, "I know that, because I see a little brat with too many stupid questions."

To see her ruffled with aggression was a small victory, but I needed fresh resolve. I wrestled my words with a calm, even tone as I answered, "Who...was the one who needed mommy and daddy to take care of them even after they had a kid?"

I resisted a quaver in my voice and continued to breathe slowly as I finished, "Seems to me you never stopped being a child yourself."

"You, bitch....How DARE you! I am your mother. You will treat me with respect, you ungrateful cunt!" Her hand tightened and flexed. I knew what she could do, but I also knew it was a point of pride that she could leave me bleeding to death without touching me.

But I wasn't certain what she was like tonight, with whatever was in her and on her thoughts. At least John was just around the corner, with my children.

My children.... I was missing their happiness, seeing them gawk at and taste their candies. Just a wall away, but I was imprisoned by Riona. I couldn't run though. I'd given up too many times, worn out by so many vicious nights.

"If you do anything worth respecting, then you will earn my respect." I set my feet without changing my stance.

She bent forward. "I gave birth to you. You owe me forever. And I was merciful."

"I've been nothing to you but something to possess, control, and get money from my whole life. You're no mother. You're no daughter to my grandparents. And you need to leave our house."

My feet were planted on the carpet, not moving, not even quivering. Riona stared me down and pressed, "Where are the real owners of this house? I want to speak to them. Not a child."

"This is my home. I'm responsible for it when my grandparents are out."

"Where are they?!"

That part was actually fuzzy for me. It tingled like something spicy rubbed over the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't find the words. I told her what made the most sense to me right then, "If they wanted you to know where they were, they would tell you."

Her head snapped back. "Or they're dead...and you're collecting my mother's retirement checks."

"Not me. That's what you would do. What you've always done."

She curled her hands into fists. "For the last time, where are they?"

I could hold her off but the war of beating me down relentlessly forced me to be perfect while she could do whatever she wanted and strike like a shark.

John emerged from the kitchen with his arms folded, and supported me, "Our grandparents are fine. They deserve to take it easy for a night and not worry about your nonsense. They wiped your ass for too many years."

Riona showed her teeth and looked ready to bite, but John wouldn't let her have the chance. He didn't shout above her like her brother would, to get attention, but he still barreled her over.

"...Although you're the piece of shit stuck on them. You've taken their years, so much money, and too much sympathy. You have failed my cousin since she escaped the prison camp of your body and the torture of your nasty house. She's the real daughter our grandparents should've had. Leave. Or I will take my grandmother's broom and brush you out onto the lawn with the rest of the animal shit."

It was like he plucked all the sharpest thoughts of things I wanted to say to mom and dropped them with one strike after another. For the kids, I was a little nervous that he was saying this when they were just a room away.

Fortunately, my little ones just missed the wave that rolled over my mother. I heard my daughter call out for me, "...Mom? Are you there?"

Mark added his own words, a little louder before he pulled it back to ask, "...ARE...Are you okay?"

I turned and crouched before them with my arms bending out. Riona slipped close to me with her bag of candy ruffling.

Some pink sparkle of a wrapper was something she had to show off with her legs fussing like she might need to use the bathroom soon or she just had a fresh recharge of energy from all the sugar.

My children were at my side as Riona turned her rising anger at John's words into a sharp question for me, "What is this...?"

I answered, "Halloween. We took my children out trick or treating and had a fun time. Right?" I reserved calm smiles for my kids. My little girl spread a giggle through her agreement as Mark tried to mash the summary of a whole evening into a handful of tangled words. John leveled his head after a nod.

"...What? You...you don't have children. You don't have anything!" Her words gargled with choked fury as she looked like she wanted to release all Hells against my cousin, but torturing me was more important to her.

Before John or I could answer, my little girl faced my mother and blurted out, "Shut up...you mean old lady!" She even shook her bag like waves of thunder. Mark added, "Don't say that to MY MOM!"

I held them on either side of me. My mother shook her head and gawked, spouting, "You crazy bitch! You think getting some stupid neighborhood brats to pretend...or whatever this is...will make any difference?!"

My kids had an arsenal of words fighting to get out. I could tell. But as they loudly answered, I brought my hands down to silence them. It took a moment, but even Mark held his tongue as I stared my mother right in the eye.

"I have love. I'm surrounded by family who truly, deeply loves me. This is my home, my family. And you are not a part of it."

There were more words, a lifetime of words I could erupt upon her. But she'd already wasted so much of my life in arguments and pain. I was done.

I preferred to be happy as I led my little ones back to the kitchen. I thought I heard that old lady growl something into the void. But her words were pale shadows on the wall without power or teeth. She left with the door creaking open and closed, then silence before her car slipped away.

She was gone. Even though I knew I would never be rid of her, the wounds she'd put in me felt like I had tended to them. I put medicine on and wrapped them. They couldn't heal immediately, but I would be okay.

And I had other things to deal with, like making sure my kids didn't inhale all their candy before bed. I let them burn off some energy with that old video game machine in the front room.

I could tell John had something he wanted to ask me, but he didn't have the words for it. Which I found funny when he often had so many words ready to run while mine were still getting dressed.

We let it go and talked about other things. Mostly, I felt excited about an old notion I thought I had buried: Me, returning to college. But that was climbing mountains when I'd just stood above the shadows of mom.

It was a beautiful and exciting hope though and one I refused to restrain.

Before long, my kids were nodding off and so were we.

It made getting them washed up both easier and a test of patience. Among the laundered clothes, they had some lovely stuff to wear. I let John have the upstairs bedroom while we slept in the big master bed.

I pulled the covers up to smother a shiver. My daughter squeezed my hand so tight it started to hurt before she drifted off to sleep. My son looked so peaceful.

Unanswered questions I didn't understand lingered with me, but I didn't want them to spoil an evening that turned out so nice. I knew the morning would clear away the haze and confusion.

Surrounded by family, sleep came easily.