Leave Mary Jane Alone

Chapter Three.

          I actually got to plan out my outfit which usually just didn't happen. My headache was gone but I knew to be careful with my cut. I put some band aids over it just in case. I curled my pink hair into thick round curls that spiraled around and left my bangs straight. I put on a emerald green tutu dress with a black waist bow and jewels on the collar. I matched it with black vintage oxfords that made me a little taller. I looked cute and well thought out. I liked dressing up, but usually I didn't have time. 

          As I walked downstairs my Mom's mouth actually dropped. I laughed. I hadn't dressed up since last year. “Baby you look beautiful.” I rolled my eyes at her. She was being so dramatic. I smiled anyhow and accepted her loving compliment. I love my Mom.

          “Babygirl,” She called me this before things happened. Usually very impacting things. “Why don't you come get coffee with me this morning? We have an hour since you we ready early. We're going to talk.” 

          She demanded. I nodded and went to the car. I grew a little nervous as I thought more and more. What was she going to talk about? Her illness? Oliver? Me? What? The thoughts raced through my mind at all the scenarios. They were all bad and this wasn't good. We arrived at the coffee shop down a couple blocks from us. It was a cute fancy place that specified on coffee and coffee treats. We sat near the corner and I noticed there was barely anybody there. Mom cleared her throat and gained my attention.

          “Mary Jane I.. You.. I put you... Mary Jane it's been three years since you've..” I gasped. 

          It was me. She wanted to know why I was always so quiet. Of course I never told her even when she begged. It was the one thing that was for me to know only. It was my private secret and it, I, was too delicate to just drop it everywhere. 

          She grabbed my hand in hers. My hands were always cold and hers were always warmer. She sighed as if she had a huge bomb to lift off of her shoulder. Her eyes met mine in total seriousness and I laughed nervously. What's going on that's making her this way?

          She started slow with ------ Mary Jane.. I don't know what.. Why.. How you are..-- and then hit me with the bang ---- I put you in a therapy group. She let out her cut up smash down sentence. I was not going to allow myself into this torture of being picked at by buzzards while I lay like a dead cow. No The words danced around in my head teasingly. The words screeched into my ears 'You need therapy! You need therapy!' Like a kid singing 'You can't catch me. Na na na boo boo!' And I hated the sound. . It went in circles. 

          Why would she do that to me? Why would she force me into a class full of people that might've wanted me to talk and spill my guts when I couldn't. Did she understand that I could handle me all on my own? I handled us all on my own for about three years. At fifteen I knew my Mom was going through something. It happened after the incident, and it progressed. And now look she's trying to play hero. I didn't say anything, but I pulled my hand into my lap. I didn't want to be touched by someone like her.

          I never knew that there was such a thing as someone who was unknowingly a hypocrite. Her eyes lowered like she was hurt. Like I just kicked a cute little puppy. Her face fell and her blue eyes squinted like she had to think about how she was going to carry on. Like she had a ton on her back just completing this dutiful task of telling her daughter and only family member that she needed therapy. Don't look at me like you're hurt because I know hurt. I know it so well.

          She slowly retreated her shaking hand. “I didn't do this to hurt you. I want to help you because I love you, but I don't know how. I figured I could get someone who did. You can bring someone with you if there is anybody. It's every Thursday and I have the place in my purse. It's some kind of center. I just..” She hesitated. “You can talk.” I shook my head.