Chipped Heartz & Broken Smilez

In the Past, We... (1)

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After a terrible fight with my brother when I was seven, grape juice covered the living room floor. My mother handed me the mop and said, "Go on and clean it up." It didn't make sense for me to clean because I knew she would mop again once I was done. Also, my brother and I had thrown our drinks at each other, so why was I the only one getting punished.

I squeezed the wooden mop handle with my small hands and pouted.

My mother sat on the carpet that faced the chunky black and white TV; a blanket covered her lap. A small girl was being interviewed. She had long hair and smooth skin; she smiled as she talked about a movie she had been in. Though she was a child, she spoke charmingly and was quite eloquent. I told my mother, "If she's that pretty in black and white, imagine what she will look like in colour."

"Keep wiping," was my mother's dry response.

I read the caption that floated beneath her. 'Olivia Golde; six years old.' Even her name was pretty.

My parents had named me Avagail Reese, but I told everyone to call me Avah because the name they gave me sounded ugly.

I sighed wistfully; how nice it would be to have a beautiful friend like that. We would hold hands, eat cotton candy, and visit haunted houses together.

I frowned; my brother had gone out to play with his friends. "How comes Jake doesn't have to clean?"

"Because cleaning is a wife's duty, and someday you'll be someone's wife."

"Or maybe I'll get a wife to clean for me," I said, drawing the mop round in a circle over one particular spot.

My mother sighed and lifted the blanket. "Alright, come here, you little brat." Smiling, I dropped the mop and went to sit on her lap, leaning my head against her chest as she covered us with the blanket. "Avah," she said softly. "Have you put any thought into what you want to be when you're older?"

I grinned, playing with her hands underneath the covering. "I'm going to be a doctor. Everyone tells me that'll never happen, but I'll make it happen."

My mother ruffled my hair and kissed the top of my head. "Mother believes in you."

"And Avah loves you."

"Mother loves Avah too, even if she can be a little bratty sometimes."

"You made me this way."

"Did I?"

I nodded. Mother ruffled my hair again, ruining all the effort I put into combing it. She called my style 'the lion's mane'. Long curly hair spilled out in all directions, making me look wild and unkempt, but despite how crazy it looked, I really had spent a good ten minutes drawing a comb through it and was proud of my work.

"What will I do with you?" she whispered.

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My eldest brother was five years older than me. He had Father's dark brown skin, short black hair, and grey eyes that were so dark they were almost black. Thomas paced my room, poking at the little bottles speckling my dresser.

"What do you want?" I asked. I had just turned twelve and was experiencing my first bleeding spell. My irritation had begun before his annoying face appeared, and now it worsened. I closed my book.

My brother came to stand by my bedside with a strange yet cruel smile. "I heard you're becoming a woman now."

"Is that so? Well, I heard you're an asshole who happens to be the son of an asshole."

His smile vanished, and he grabbed the collar of my nightgown. "You think you're smart, don't you? Aren't you failing half your subjects? What's so hard about seventh grade that you can't even do simple Math? Something must be wrong with your brain."

"My brain is fine; I'm behind on schoolwork because I have an actual job unlike you. But your brain..." I tilted my hand from one side to the other, "I'm not sure about."

He raised his fist to punch me. Before it made contact, I screamed. The sound was so high and piercing my mother burst into my room, breathless, and took in the tableau of Thomas aiming his fist at my head.

Thomas, flustered, dropped his hand. "I didn't touch her; I swear. She just started screaming."

Though Thomas was almost as tall as her, Mother grabbed him by his neck and pulled him towards the door. "You will not leave this house for a month and shall receive twelve lashings for your impertinence."

"But, Mother, I didn't touch her."

"Be quiet, or it will become fourteen."

Thomas closed his mouth and looked over his shoulder, nostrils flaring in anger.

Since my mother's back was to me, I smiled and waved goodbye.

***