Chapter 17 Grandmother Margaret
643 Words
Grandmother Margaret's face is full of anger, hand over her nose and mouth, looking at Mommy's room with disgust.
"Mom, what are you doing here?" Daddy goes over, holds her arm.
I follow Daddy, don't really want to see her.
Before, every time she came, Mommy had to do lots of extra things, and she'd yell at Mommy.
When I wanted to protect Mommy, she'd look at me with even more disgust.
She'd call me a "useless little thing", call Mommy "couldn't give this family an heir."
I didn't understand, asked Mommy, Mommy just told me not to listen.
Back to the present, Grandmother Margaret says: "If someone hadn't told me, I wouldn't have known they were dead."
"But it's just as well. You have a new wife now, and Genevieve's expecting."
Like she really can't stand the smell, she tugs Daddy's jacket, tries to pull him out.
Then I hear her go on: "Have them buried quickly. This is unseemly."
"Unseemly" is a bad word, I know: "Me and Mommy are not unseemly. You're mean!"
"Mommy is the best mommy in the world. Don't talk about her like that."
I say this, then look at Daddy, hoping he'll say something, but he's just silent.
Grandmother Margaret says more, Daddy's face shows impatience.
Then I hear him say: "I'll arrange the funeral in a few days. You go home first."
Daddy walks Grandmother Margaret out, then comes back to Mommy's room like he's made a big decision.
The moment he enters, Daddy's face changes.
Mommy's body is like a broken doll on the soft bed.
The heavy down comforter can't warm her.
Her beautiful face looks distorted now.
My body is next to Mommy, looks even worse.
Just a moment apart, but both bodies have changed.
I cover my mouth, afraid my gasp will escape.
Fear floods my heart — not fear of how the bodies look, but the feeling that Mommy might really be gone.
"Mommy, will Emma never be able to hold you again, never eat your good food again?" I whisper.
Big tears fall from my eyes. I'm so sad.
The sobbing next to me makes me look over.
Daddy is kneeling on the floor, his hand just centimeters from Mommy, but he can't bring himself to touch her.
The bedroom light has been fixed, and I see Daddy's body shaking, like he's being eaten by silent pain.
He buries his face in the bedsheets, and after a while, a dark wet patch spreads on the sheet.
This is the second time I've seen Daddy cry.
"It's all Daddy's fault. If it wasn't for Daddy, Mommy wouldn't be like this."
I remember what Mommy used to say, then start accusing Daddy.
I know it's not right, but I'm really mad right now.
Once when Mommy was crying, I asked her why people cry.
Mommy said people's emotions are complicated. You cry when you love someone, when you hate someone, when you're happy...
I know I cry because I love Mommy.
But Daddy?
If he loves Mommy, why did he leave her?
If he hates Mommy, why does he look like he can't let her go, just like me...
I don't understand my daddy.
Daddy's sobbing quiets down soon.
I don't think about him anymore.
I go back to Mommy.
I tilt my head, ask Mommy: "Why can't Emma see Mommy's bubble? Does Mommy not want Emma anymore?"
My nose stings as I say it.
I rub my nose, say: "Actually, Mommy's a fairy godmother, right? That's why she went up to heaven, and Emma can't see her."
I chatter on, lots of things.
Then I slowly close my eyes.
In the daze, I see a white light flickering ahead.
Then I hear Mommy's voice from the white light in my dream: "Emma, don't be sad. Mommy's right here beside you."
- Writer
