My mother smiled at the bar, with a long time friend whom she owed much due to him saving her from her ex-husband. Her 21st birthday, a milestone in her life it was almost hard to believe she made it to.
Peter smiled at her, then looked to the bartender and gave a hearty laugh. "One leg spreader for the birthday lady." He ordered. My mother looked confused, but went along with it.
The drink in her hands, she sipped it. Her vision was hazy, it's just the amount of alcohol consumed, she was always lightweight anyways. Eventually going black, she'll sleep with Peter's toothy smile being the last she remembered of that night.
Head pounding, her clothes were off and she was on her couch. Don't even think of it, she told herself. The morning light blinded her. What day was it? December 1st. Her birthday had come to an end.
-------------
Looking at the positive pregnancy test in her hand, she showed Peter and smiled. She'd always wanted kids, such a great gift.
nine months have passed, ignore everything, just focus on your baby is what my mother taught herself. Such a kind woman.
Birth was both the hardest and most amazing thing to her. She cradled a baby in her arms, who wailed and wailed. Peter slept, his daughter could wait is what he believed.
Mom stayed up three day and nights, caring for her daughter. Her fingers ran over the soft skin of her baby's forehead as she comforted me. Paperwork was given to my mother, who sat alone in the room as she wrote my name for the first time. I lay in her arms, asleep or not I do not know.
That night, I shrieked and wailed, laying in bed with my mother and father as my father insisted. Mom hadn't given him any attention in three days, he wanted her body. I wailed and wailed as my mother's legs were spread and blood splattered on the sheets.
This was routine.
I grew up, where was Peter? My mother put water in my princess teacups and talked to all my plushies while we had tea parties. My dolls and my dresses, all with my pretty princess of a mother. Where was Peter? He left the country for work.
Was I a monster for missing him?
My mother packed her things, determined to leave Peter. He came back unexpectedly, a ring in hand and a smile on his face. I remember mom wearing a floral dress as she picked me up from school to tell me they were getting married. Peter's fingers were curled, his smile never reached his eyes.
I wed Peter and my Mother. why did I agree to this? I tied their hands over the bonfire and danced with my little cousins. This is disgusting.
At six, I spent time alone with Peter, learning how to help my family cook. His knife rest over my fingers, telling me this is what happens when I break my promise. What did I do? I screamed and screamed. Mom ran to me and held me, it was just a joke Peter assured her. I cry and forgive.
At seven, the presence of Santa Claus left my life, and Peter burned my scalp with a tug to my hair. I must stay young for my father. I will be his little trophy of a daughter, and I will be a new version of him. How else will Peter love me?
Mother wailed and wailed, begging him to love me. Begging him to love her. She wanted, and you're not allowed to want. So Mom will cry and she will spread her legs again, because you're not allowed to want. You're not allowed to need.
This is routine.
I laid in bed, hard to leave. I wish to die. I write and write my desires out, putting my favorite characters in my place. My characters died again and again and again because I'm a jealous individual. I hear the sobs of my spread out mother and I know she wanted. I will not want.
