The Famoux

Preface

emilee

When I was younger, and unaware of the world's capabilities, my mother always told me that if I thought hard enough, and wished long enough, my requests would be heard. Maybe this is true, and maybe I just didn't think hard enough, or wish long enough, and maybe I really could've had everything I stayed up at night dreaming for if I had only held on for a few more years, but I'll never know for sure, because I didn't.

All I know is that every morning my mother would softly wake me; fix me a good, hearty breakfast; and button up my coat before sending me off to school. And as I walked alongside Clarus Creek, towards school, I thought, and I wished, and somehow it made me hopeful in the hopeless world I lived in. But I was only thinking for myself, and only wishing selfish things. Occasionally did I desire strength. Frequently did I desire acceptance. Always did I desire that Carstan van Horne wouldn't show up to school.

But selfish thoughts and selfish wishes, it seems, are seldom heard and seldom granted. Always did Carstan van Horne show up, and always did he make my life difficult. And when I walked alongside Clarus Creek, towards home, I still thought, and I still wished, and it comforted me. My mother comforted me. She wiped the tears from my eyes, exhaled a heavy sigh, and told me that my differences weren't flaws, and that they didn't make me anything less than Carstan van Horne, or anyone else for that matter. And then when the next day came, and the day after that, and the day after that, when I walked alongside Clarus, towards school, and walked alongside Clarus, towards home, she was always there to wipe my tears, sigh heavily, and comfort me with sweet lies until sobs turned into whimpers, and whimpers turned into quick, quivering breaths.

Years passed this way. Until they didn't.

Morning. She woke me up like she always did. Fixed me breakfast like she always did. Buttoned my coat like she always did. Carstan bullied me, like he always did. I cried alongside Clarus, towards home, like I always did. I thought hard, and I hoped harder, like I always did. There was no reason for this particular day to be anything less than what my days always, always were.

But when I creaked open the door to my house, and sulked miserably inside, I found it empty. The furniture was all still there, the cabinets in the kitchen were still stocked, but my house, my once safe haven was empty--empty of all things that mattered. Gone was the smell of peonies. Gone were the contents of her drawers. Gone was the woman who kept me walking up and down Clarus Creek every passing day, regardless of how sad I could be while on its other end.

My mother was not home to comfort me. My mother was not there to wipe the tears from my eyes. She'd sighed far too heavily one too many times, and I think she was done with it, all of it; all of me. She was done with telling me that I wasn't flawed, because I was. She was done with telling me I wasn't less than Carstan van Horne, because he sure as hell went out of his way to show me how much I was.

My mother had run away.

I recall being the only one in the house for a long time that day. My brother was out with friends, trying hard to be accepted in an atmosphere that never accepted me, his little glitch of a sibling. My older sister, the eldest of the three of us, was still at school, studying relentlessly for a placement test that would determine which professions she should take up after graduation, which was just around the bend. My father wouldn't be home for hours--he was busy working in that large building in the city, in that desk with the spinning chair, jabbering on that phone for hours on end, in hopes that if he worked long enough he would receive that promotion. Thinking of it now, I realize that on that day that my mother disappeared, we all were immersed deeply in our own lives and our own lives alone, just as we always had been. They were thinking egocentric thoughts, wishing egocentric wishes, and letting other people interfere in these assessments only if they furthermore benefitted our own goals.