Fiction #2 by Meka
A fictional short story of love. A woman and her daughter locked in a battle of wills–struggling to be heard. Who will win?
Didn’t I tell you not to scream inside? Must I chide you for screaming inside. This is a place of peace and quiet, so respect it. No screaming inside!
Child, have you no pride? People can hear you screaming outside. What will they say? You’ll be a lady someday, and ladies don’t scream outside!
Find your respect this moment young lady, or take cover. You can NEVER again scream at your mother. You should only obey and love her, it seems– but never ever ever scream!
…are all I wished to say, but the contortion of your face as it pressed out the weighty matters of selfish cookie-hoarding monsters or the taunting manner in which he’s “lookin’ at you” are not quite the same today, so I’ll wait.
You look more like me because “if you were you” you would have sought my guidance. I know you cannot see clearly because I saw your clarity streaming down your cheeks and to your dark painting
As I gently scraped stray streaks of blue paint from her yellow to look busy, she barely says hello anymore. I just tell her anyway what I think she needs to know- in case my baby is in there listening someplace.
“Control yourself…you’ll learn…have to pay attention…just one thing…and instincts…aware… image… grow and evolve….spirit… when you’re older…anticipate…in case of danger… think…yes you’re the same…. never forget… unexpected….but dust yourself off…distant memory, so remember…be..better…bigger… individual…yes, I’m aware..but true friends… pray…trust..don’t ask so many… no, snitching is..You are beautiful…smile!..only once….ever you want to be… melody…lovely painting”
Eye rolls, lip smacks, and occasional grunts are all I ever notice anymore, yet her silence is the most deafening like a barrage of discomforting nothingness followed by a hanging high-five as she disappears right in front of me. “If that’s all…” she says politely in a tone so perfect I would’ve dismissed it easily if I weren’t her mom.
“Scream to me?” … cannot believe I just told my adolescent that she could always “scream to me”. I meant to discuss the psychology of keeping bottled emotions, but I picked three small words instead of one big one- just won…derful. I overheard her once accuse me of ‘swerve’, but “urbandictionary” will never have my time again; she’s not even urban. Of course, I’m never leaving her.
She leaves me- having long engulfed my dreams, but I don’t care of any of those anymore- just her. She’s the one I’ve given my life, who is my purpose and reason. Still, she all but despises me. It helps to think of the times when she used to swear that a bruised head could only be cured by my kiss and my hugs could mend a broken leg, but now she just texts…
..me all of her problems as if they all started here. I accept them because I’d rather have blame than nothing at all, so I try to solve them with the best advice I can muster- even when I could just shake and cuss her, but I love her too much. Plus, my eyes tell me the letters look smaller each year. These days, it takes longer to type what I guess she needs to know. I do it anyway just in case my baby’s ear is listening in there as she’s reading someplace:
“You’re ok..there’s always a way…raise a family you’ve never experienced… if you…marry love… a man you’ve never seen…eyes deceive… be a good person while you wait…think round…look flat…you were the same…they didn’t know…so you’re better…won’t let you forget…don’t forget they don’t…why?…matter tomorrow?…help tomorrow?…principles and rigid boundaries.. could not live there…basics… ask way too many…. the right questions…tell.. You are beautiful…be happy! I love you…most beautiful bright yellow painting
For now, I live here with a sweet little family: a woman, a little girl, and handsome man. They all like me, but he thinks I’m sexy. I tell him he’s NOT for me, but the truth really is that he’s young enough to be my son. The little girl likes to brush my hair while the sweet woman is painting my face and adorning me. I like that they give me enough space- though I can never remember their names.
Poor woman believes I’m her best friend- always convinced that I’m right about something. I urged her twice to get younger friends, but would you believe she cried and screamed?!….inside?! I don’t know why I didn’t chide her for screaming inside. I can’t tell you why somehow her presence fills my heart with glorious light like the brightest yellow painting I’ve ever seen.
Somehow that bright yellow light grows brighter each day. I could not imagine a better time than today to head its way. -lovemeka
What do you think? It’s my second fictional piece. If you like it, show it some love by clicking the “Like” button below, pay it forward with one of the share buttons, and don’t forget to follow! Thank you for reading 🙂