The Lost Daughter of Thaumaturgy

The Lost Daughter of Thaumaturgy - Chapter 12

12

          “MUM!” I’m so sick of this, why won’t she just tell me!

“I said leave it Gabe!” she screamed back at me, throwing her keys across the hotel room, scratching the wardrobe.

“No! I’m sick of you ignoring me whenever I ask! Why won’t you just tell me! For fucks sake!!” I scream back, stomping my feet and balling my fists getting ready to punch something. “I’m 15 and I deserve to know. How would you feel in my shoes mum? Wouldn’t you want to know what is going on?!”

“I can’t Gabe! I just can’t!” She says for the hundredth time.

“Can’t or won’t?” I ask through gritted teeth, as I watch her roll her eyes.

“How about both, does that make you feel better?!” she answers, shrinking onto the bed, her shoulder hunched over and head hung down in shame.

I instantly feel terrible as I watch my mum’s shoulders shake with the silent sobs coming from her. She’s a silent crier, never makes a sound. I crawl up onto the bed and kneel next to her.

“I’m sorry.” I say putting my arm around her. “I know you can’t tell me who my dad is, or why we have to run. I just keep thinking that maybe one day you’ll just tell me, but that’s stupid.”

She looks up at me, pain clear on her face, mixed with regret and a need for something. “I just wish I could dear, but its,”

“It’s not that simple,” I said, finishing her sentence. “And that’s ok. I understand mum, really I do. I’ll stop asking, I promise.

She looked over at me again and forced a smile, before rapping both arms around me and hugging me. I ended up curled up on her lap with her wrapped around me, but I didn’t care.

I need to learn to stop pushing her. It’s not fair and I shouldn’t make my mother feel bad, if anything I should be making her life easier.

After a few more minutes of awkward hugging, mum lifted the covers and I crawled in, she went and washed her face and came back less red and puffy.

“I was 18,” she started talking out of nowhere. I sat up, staring down at her, wide eyed. She just shot me that ‘shut-up and don’t say anything’ look. “I met him at school in Surrey; he was top of his classes like me, athletic, very well built. He was the type of man that gained everyone’s attention just by walking into a room.” She smiled a little at the memory of my father. I smiled too. I can’t believe she’s telling me about him.

“When I went out for the track team, he showed up and sat staring at me the entire time. I got distracted naturally and ended up falling flat on my face just as I crossed the finish line.” She laughed. I did too. It’s hard to picture my mum as the swooning, girlie girl type. “When I got up again, I marched over to him and started demanding what his problem was. He simply stood up and walked away. So being the stubborn ass I am, I followed him and shouted at him all the way back to his dorm, where he processed to walk straight into his room, close the door and ignore me. I could have given up and said ‘who cares’, but no, I stayed outside his room all night verbally abusing him and demanding an explanation. Until finally, around 4am, he finally gave in and opened the door, grabbed my face and kissed me.” Her smile grew again and her eyes went far and distant.

“Anyway, cutting a long story shut. I got pregnant and ran. He wanted to ‘make it go away’,” We both cringed when she said it. “But I told him to go take a long walk of a short pier and seven and a half months later, I have a beautiful little girl.”

She looked over at me and cupped my cheek, catching a tear rolling from my eye. “You were the best decision I ever made. And I’ll never think twice over picking you first.”

Her face was so serious, I half expected her to bust up laughing, but she held my eyes and never looked away. I nodded my head and forced a small smile.

She opened her arms up and motioned for me to ‘come here hun’. I snuggled into her arms and she tickled my back, singing softly under her breath.  

“Dodo, L’Enfant do, L’Enfant dormira bien vite Dodo, l’enfant do L’enfant dormira bientôt. Une poule blanche Est là dans la grange...” Her voice trailed off and I slipped into darkness, a smile on my face and feeling loved.

As I dreamt, my mind created a dark figure. I watched as It moulded itself into the shape of a man, tall, lean but a still little muscular, his light olive skin poking out from underneath a white t-shirt and blue jeans.

However, his face was shrouded in darkness, making it impossible to discern his features. All I could make out, was the shape and height of him.

He raised his arms out in a welcoming manor, as if to beckon me to him. I stepped towards him, but his body moved away from me. I took another step and he continued to move, as if he were floating, his arms still out-stretched.

I walked faster, until I was flat out running, but no matter how fast, or how far I ran, He always stayed that same distance away. Just out of reach, close enough to almost touch.

I gave in, falling to my knees. The man continued to move away from me. As I watched him float off, tears in my eyes and a name I wish I knew to call in my throat, until he was no more than a black dot in a never ending sea of white.

I woke, gasping and clutching at my chest. Eyes wet and heart aching.

The next night, the same dream.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.