What Once I Was

Chapter 23- The Truth About That Night

Naomi sat at the dining table, pencils falling onto the floor as she scribbled on paper after paper. With her tongue poked out, she strongly resembled her father. Wendy pottered about the kitchen, pots and pans clanging on the work surface as she prepared their dinner. She knew Naomi wouldn't eat it, that she would instead decorate the walls in tomato sauce and spaghetti, but she had long since given up caring.

Her hair, three days unwashed and shoved into a bun, stuck to her scalp as steam took her breath away. She found herself wondering, yet again, why children were desired so much. Motherhood really wasn't all people cracked it up to be. The tantrums, the mess, the sleepless nights. God, what she'd do to take it all back.

"Mummy look, I drawed a flower."

Naomi smiled up at her mother, a single piece of paper held in the air between them. Streaks of green, red, and yellow encompassed the page. Wendy hated this part. The having to force a smile and pretend your chest was swelling with pride over something an animal could replicate.

"That looks beautiful," the lie tasted sour in her mouth, "come on. Let's get this tidied up before dinner. If you're a good girl, Mummy has a super fun surprise for you later." 

Naomi bounced on the balls of her feet, fists clenched as she cheered. She loved surprises. Surprises meant toys and sweets. Surprises were fun. She liked it when Mummy was happy. Scrambling under the table, she rushed to put the colouring pencils back into their cardboard box before scooping the paper into her arms and shoving them all into the plastic storage box her mother had reminded her time and again housed her arts and crafts. She looked at Wendy expectantly.

"I did it mummy. See?"

Her mother's eyes didn't lift from the phone she held in her hand, fingers furiously tapping at the screen.

"Yeah, well done, babe. Go wash your hands for me."

A small sigh escaping her, Naomi did as she was instructed. Running her hand up the bannister, she took one step at a time, singing The Wheels on the Bus. Having not long learned the song, she sang loudly and out of tune, skipping words entirely. 

"Naomi shut up! Please. Mummy has a headache. I don't need to listen to your crap, too."

With a huff, Naomi continued to the bathroom, muttering the song under her breath. Mummy never liked her singing, not like Daddy. She couldn't wait until he was home from work. She loved the thrill as he threw her in the air, caught her and blew raspberries into her neck. Daddy was fun. He never told her off for the mess she made when creating her masterpieces. Never sighed loudly and berated her for knocking into a vase when she pretended to be a cat. He never scolded the mess in her room after she spent hours alone, lining her toys, creating families with her dolls. No. Daddy never got cross. 

It was a struggle to wash her hands properly. The soap dispenser was difficult to push down. She tried with all her might, grunting and stamping her feet until it fell with a thud on the floor, its contents spilling out. Naomi smiled as she scooped some of the liquid into her hands. Mummy would be happy when she showed her how shiny her hands were. Turning on the cold faucet, she didn't like the burn of the hot tap, she rubbed her hands together fascinated by the bubbles that lathered up. Done. Pulling the towel off the rack, she rubbed her hands until they felt dry and hung it carelessly back. It slipped to her feet. Again and again she tried to get the towel to stay in its rightful place. 

"Lunch is done Naomi. Come on down now!"

Lunch! Naomi loved lunch. Leaving the towel in a pile beneath the rack, she raced to the kitchen, her feet padding on the cool flooring. Jiggling her leg, she waited impatiently for her food. Spaghetti on toast. Yuck. She hated spaghetti on toast. It made the bread go soggy. Pushing the plate away from her she wrinkled her nose.