If Only You Knew

FIFTEEN

With my brothers going back to school, and the end of the winter break rolling in, the dynamic in the house changed. I found myself alone for most of the day or at the hospital, and even if my emails to my assistant director, my roommates, and landlord took a few back and forth, it slowed down eventually. Once everything back in London was sorted out, I had a ton of time on my hands.

I considered going back to Chloe's, just so I could be closer to the city and distract myself with the liveliness of Toronto. Donna even encouraged me to go back, knowing that their mundane lives would soon bore me. I planned on calling Chloe in evening to check if I could move back in with her. I would be lying if I said asking for such a favor didn't make me nervous. This time, I wasn't staying for a determined period of time, and I didn't want to impose my own unexpected turn of events on her. I also valued myself a lot as an independent person, so asking others to accomodate me was an anxiety-inducing thought.

Before going to visit my mom, I sorted through my clothes to figure out what I would bring to the city. Flipping my suitcase on my bed, I came across my mother's folder again and I felt compelled to look through. My mom had meticulously labeled everything: insurance forms, medical records and bills. It made me realize how she had passed on this trait to me, as I had the exact same file system in London. While I leafed through the papers, I stumbled upon a brown envelope labeled with my name on it. Expecting to find old drawings or photos of myself, I carefully opened it.

Instead of sweet photographs, a judicial letter from the court slipped out. I unfolded it and began to read, my eyes widening with each word. It was a court order, demanding that my mother financially support my studies or else repay parts of the divorce settlement. The words blurred as I read them over and over, my mind struggling to comprehend what this meant. I read the date over again, and it was after the months of negociation my parents had, after I announced to my mother that I was accepted to drama school in London.

My perception of my parents shifted. The supportive father I had always looked up to had resorted to legal threats to ensure my education. Meanwhile, my mother, whom I had seen as the obstacle to my dreams, had silently borne the burden. I felt both torn between the love I had for them and the anger brewing inside me. This revelation turned my life upside down.

As I held the letter, my hands began to shake. Memories of the times my mother worked late into the night, and her quiet sacrifices flooded my mind. How had I missed all the signs? She was an immigrant and a hardworker. I had always known her to have two jobs from a really young age, to sustain us and especially after the divorce. This was normal to me, I had only known her this way. Then came to my mind her laying in the hospital bed. Had her health issues been triggered by overworking all these years? Was I at fault for her recent health problems? A strong wave of guilt washed over me, followed by a fiery anger toward my father.

So many emotions were brewing within me. I paced around my room, furious one second, denying the information I had just discovered the next, and then filled with guilt and anger. Fueled by this maddening rage, I stormed downstairs, clutching the letter.

- Dad! Dad, I need to talk to you. Now, I demanded, my voice trembling with emotion.

I found Donna and him in the patio outside, putting away Christmas decorations into large boxes. Both of them looked up, surprised by the intensity in my tone. 

- What is it, Naomi? he said, concerned.

I thrust the letter towards him. 

- Explain this, I said, my voice breaking.

He took the letter, his face paling as he read it. Donna kept looking at us both, quietly.

- Naomi, how- How did you get this?
- I said explain yourself, I began to yell.