My mother met me at dinner that evening. She'd gone to the salon and cut her hair, but I could still see the gray roots showing on her brown dyed hair.
For some reason I dreaded dinner with her, and I dreaded even more what she was going to say. She sat down and flashed the biggest grin I've seen from her in quite awhile.
"Savannah, I've taken care of everything," she began.
I dreaded what the word 'everything' meant. I saw her with Mr. Wasem and I had no idea what she told him.
I could barely touch my dinner tray. I mean, this woman is my mother. I came out of her. When I look in the mirror, I'm staring at her reflection as, other than my hair, skin color, and eye color, we are practically mirror images. If she had done or said anything, anything at all, that would damage my chances for adopting Satis and Imsety, if she deliberately ruined my one shot at true happiness, I don't think I can forgive her for that. At all.
As most of you reading this blog know, my mother and I have had a contentious relationship. The two of us have barely seen eye-to-eye, on anything, and it's been like this pretty much since I was born.
We never did the things that mothers and daughters do with each other. There were no mother-daughter shopping trips, no grooming days at the parlor, none of that stuff. Instead, it's been nonstop shouting matches. All because I'm not what she wanted or expected in a daughter.
"I -- I never told you about my mother, did I?"
Nope.
"Her name was Daniella. She came over from Germany after the great war. Soon after she came to America she met my father and they got married. I actually think she only got married so she could stay here."
This was really the first time I'd heard my mother talk about her childhood, or even her mother. It seemed she'd pretty much blocked it out.
"My mother was a short-order cook at the bistro where we lived, and she was not a very pleasant person to be around. She and my father would get into these huge fights, mostly about me. I would just lock myself in my room and not come out. My escape was my music. Mom put me in guitar and violin and singing classes when I was little because she wanted me to be graceful and elegant. "
"I was the oldest of four children. I had three younger siblings -- Theresa, Ursula, and Victor, but she chose to focus all of her rage on me. I would walk into the living room and she would shoo me away, for no reason at all. I wanted that little bit of time with her and she wasn't there. It was like -- she hated me."
At that point I felt a little bit sorry for my mother. She behaved the way she did because she really didn't know any better.
"Savannah, I talked to Mr. Wasem, and he wanted a few references for you as a parental figure. Your dad and I, we're getting up there in years, and even though we don't always say it, we appreciate how you've stepped up for Sebastian. You help him with homework, you make sure he eats, you're an ear for him when he needs it. And I told Mr. Wasem that."
I was speechless. I wasn't sure what to say. I wasn't sure what to make of her apparent about-face. She spent almost a week in Egypt giving me all kinds of reasons why I shouldn't adopt the children. Did she actually mean it? Or was this a ruse for something else? What was her motivation?
No comments:
Post a Comment