Matriarch

In Grandmother's Eyes

The Bad Mother
The bad mother wakes from dreams
Of imperfection trying to be perfection.
All night she's engineered a train
Too heavy with supplies
To the interior. She fails.
The child she loves
Has taken on bad habits, cigarettes
Maybe even drugs. She
Recognizes lies. You don't
Fool me, she wants to say,
The bad mother, ready to play,
And win.
This lamb who's gone -
This infant she is
Pinioned to - does not listen,
She drives with all her magic down a
Different route to darkness where
All life begins.
- Susan Griffin                              

  Hana
   "Hana? In just a bit I'll be driving your father to a business meeting, but I'm going to pick up a few groceries afterward. Do you need anything?" My nanny's voice comes in from the doorway to my room, and I look up from my book to see her standing there, dressed in a formal black dress that looked nice despite her being sixty-two. Or was it sixty-three now?
"Hana?" Her voice snaps me out of my thoughts.
"No, I don't need anything, thank you, Nan." I reply. Nan is so nice to me, like a grandmother almost. I wish my real grandmother was that nice.
No, that's too much to ask. If I'm not perfect in every single way, from how my hair falls, to the way I speak, to whether I lay my hands right on top of left or left on top of right, I'm imperfect. And imperfection is utter failure, in my grandmother's eyes. It doesn't help that the old bat is half blind and too proud to say it. Even if she wanted me to cross my feet half an inch above the ankle she wouldn't be able to see.
I've told myself before: oh, she's not really so particular all the time, there are days when you don't do anything wrong. And that's true. But even then I'm still 'mediocre'.
"Hana? What are you still doing in bed? Grandmother expects us downstairs and ready in half of an hour." Ah, I've forgotten to mention the outlier. Alicia Coervell. My twin sister and competition in the race to be perfect. A race in which she always wins.
Alicia is unlike me in every sense of the word. She was born first and best. Her tall, slim figure paired with long blond hair and shining blue eyes makes her undoubtedly attractive, but her perfect posture, perfect phrasing, perfect actions, perfect everything is what lets her win the race. In grandmother's eyes, at least.
"I'll be down in a second, Alicia, calm down." I wave her off. When did Nan leave? Probably a few minutes ago, while I was mulling ever so gloomily over my thoughts.
Alicia gives me a warning glare at my choice of words, knowing I won't be able to say that around Grandmother, but shuts the door and leaves. After she does, I finally get out of bed and walk to my closet: a big, double door wardrobe. It's made of a rich, dark wood, and its intricate carvings almost look scary at night when the light hits them just so. I look over my shoulder at the calendar next to my bed to check the date. Tuesday. Tuesdays are when Hana and I must dress to a green theme.
That's right, to top it all off she has a color theme for each day. Monday is blue, Tuesday is green, Wednesday is pink, Thursday is white, Friday is black, Saturday is yellow, and Sunday is lavender. Specifically lavender, it's Grandmothers favorite color.
I pull out a green plaid skirt, white socks, black shoes, a white shirt, black vest, and a green plaid tie. I could go out in winter weather by this point and be fine, but Grandmother insists that 'ladies dress in layers'.
I shove on the clothes and rush downstairs, trying to arrive at the table and be seated before Grandmother. I swivel around the corner in the hallway into the dining room and plunk into my chair just as I hear Grandmother hobbling down the stairs. I straighten out my hair, praying for it to lay flat, though it never does. Yet another difference between us, Hana has perfectly manageable, pin straight hair that lies just the way you want it to. I however, have curly, slightly less manageable hair. Or in Grandmother's eyes, and words, a rat's nest.
I know my hair isn't going to cooperate, so I stop trying, and smooth out my skirt and sleeves instead, and focus on making my breathing sound like I didn't just run a six mile marathon. Though I'm pretty sure I did. I've crossed my ankles and laid my hands, right over left, in my lap, just as Grandmother arrives.
She's a only little thing, really, 5'1" or so, with thin gray hair streaked with white, and everyday she wears this formal, black pencil dress that reaches just below her knees and has longer, elbow length sleeves on it. Her hair, though long when down, is pinned up into a sort of twisty updo, and held in place with her favorite pearl hairpin. She wears formal black high heels and skin tone stockings. Of course, Grandmother tries to spend all available time inside, away from the dirt and bugs and other unladylike things, so her skin tone is closer to white. Overall, very 'rich old British lady' vibe.
"Good morning, girls. Has Vivienne made breakfast yet?" She asks. Nan's name is Vivienne, but Grandmother is the only one who calls her that.
"No, Grandmother, she had to take Father to a business meeting, but she should be back soon." Alicia informs her.
"Well, then," Grandmother gingerly pulls out a chair and sits next to Alicia. "What are our plans for the day?"
"Mrs. Tundon is coming to tutor Hana and I at ten o'clock, and will stay until one. Lunch will take place after, and then our schedules are free." Alicia says robotically. Ah, I forgot to mention: Alicia and I don't go to public school. Against all my wishes, Father hired a private tutor for us, Mrs. Tundon. She comes from ten in the morning to one in the afternoon, and teaches us Language Arts, Maths, History, and Science courses. Our French class is online.
We'd both be seniors if we were in high school, and both of us have already gotten accepted to West Franklin University, Grandmother's dream school. Of course, I'd much rather go to Dampton University, which is esteemed for its theatre courses, but it's not really up for debate, is it?
Grandmother nods approvingly at Alicia's statement, and pauses to think for a second, before saying, "I think I'll have Vivienne take us up to the gardens after lunch. Hana, be a dear and tell Vivienne, would you?"
"Kay." ...shit!
"What!" Grandmother's expression has suddenly turned harsh, her head tilted up so she looks down at me, her eyes widened and her eyebrows raised. Her mouth is curved down in a slight frown.
"Uhh, I-I mean-"
Grandmother cuts me off, disgust evident in her voice. "You disrespectful child! Go straight to your room, you can come out when you've learned to speak English!" She spits the words at me.
I sigh heavily. "Right." I see Grandmother's eyes narrow, but I don't care anymore. I walk up the stairs to my room lock the door, ensuring unwanted visitors can't come in. I look over at my nightstand, on it is my VR headset, which consists of a wide band that goes around your eyes and the front of your face, and a smaller, tighter band that goes around the back of your head and holds it in place. Nan had gotten me a console, headset and gloves a while ago, but it wasn't till two months ago that I actually got a game to play. I've played Matriarch every day since the day I got it, it's my most prized possession.
My fingers trace the wide metal front band on the headset, feeling the cool, smooth metal curves.
"Whatever shall I do all day?"