My Mother's Daughter

Chapter 1: Face to Face

I remember watching her gracefully apply black, liquid eyeliner just above her thick, dark lashes, which made her hazel eyes pop. She was beautiful. In everything she did, she was beautiful. As she grabbed her small violet clutch from the coffee table, I watched her auburn hair sway over her face ever so slightly, she was curvy like in the way that reminded you of an hour glass. Her pale, porcelain skin was flawless. She was only in her twenties at the time. But now when I look at her, I don't see that mesmerizing idle of a youth, I see a mother that would rather go out and party than watch her own children. Honestly, she should have never had kids. She should have been a single, business woman that was unable to produce any other life form. I see her now, still young, aged by a year or two more than what she should be from drinking, late-night parties, and cigarets. Still beautiful, but when you look in her eyes, when you really look at them, they are no longer filled with happiness just the desire to escape her fragile world with a couple of drinks. I love her and I always will, I mean she's my mother, but I will never agree with her choices or her life style. That is why I had to leave. I thought that it was going to be a good thing, I thought that if I left she would have no one to push her kids on so she could go party, I thought that she would be forced to step up and be a mom, but sadly that wasn't the case. When I left everything just got worse. My two brothers resented me for it, because she didn't step up like I thought she would. She just left my younger brother, Johnny, in charge and made it his burden to care for our youngest brother, Junior. Johnny was 13 at the time and Junior 9. I had just turned 18 and our mother was 32 and still living in the fast lane. I wondered how long it would be until she was too old to be going out like she did, until she realized she was that old bitch in the club with three kids. And now I stand here in front of her after 3 years of being MIA, our eye level slightly off because I was about two inches taller than her 5'1" height. It was almost like looking in a distorted mirror, if anyone would have seen us apart they would have mistaken me for her and just thought she changed her hair. We had the same almond shaped eyes except mine were a light brown, same slim nose, same porcelain-like, pale skin, same long legs despite our short height, but besides that I had mostly my father's features. I was petite, but with the toned legs of a volleyball player, or at least that's what people told me, my face was also slightly more round than hers, and my hair was now a platinum blonde barely reaching my chest while hers was down to her waist and still a fiery auburn color. I stood in the doorway letting all the cool air out and mentally analyzing her as she was standing in her modern, elegantly styled house open-mouthed and hazel eyes now filled with tears of past hurt and present joy. She didn't know whether to hug me or let me be. I'm glad she just asked me to come in, because I don't think I would have given her the response she would have liked if she tried to hug me. I'm the type of person that won't do something unless I sincerely meant it, including: hugs, kisses, and 'I love you's', which are rare from me. I walked over to the granite-topped island in her kitchen and chose one of the many bar stools rooted to the wooden floor. Her new home was amazing to say the least, the color pallet consisted of mostly grey-blues with wooden floors throughout the house and the kitchen was tastefully done with hanging light fixtures above the island I now sat at with a modern, navy blue gas stove sitting across from the island. She had asked me if I wanted anything to drink but I politely declined. It was an awkward silence after that. About ten minutes passed of thinking to myself while she compulsively rearranged the vase of blue roses in between us till she decided to speak.

"So how have you been?"

"Fine." I would have asked her the same but I really didn't care enough to make the effort.

She spoke again, "So what brings you here? I mean not to sound like I don't want you here, but this is a bit of a surprise. I would have prepared dinner or something if I knew you were coming."

I looked at her while I mentally rolled my eyes. I wanted to say, 'I know you would have, and that's why I didn't cause I didn't want you to make a big deal on Facebook about your baby girl coming home after all these years blah blah blah'. But instead I just sighed and said, "I don't know, I thought I'd stop by."

"Oh, well I'm glad you came by. Sorry it's such a mess, I'm having the upstairs painted and redecorated to match the downstairs."

Of course she had just bought this house and is already starting to change everything about it. It kind of reminds me of when she used to get a new boyfriend. She would find a guy with the right look and then decide to change their whole personality while she shoved her beliefs down their throat. I wondered if she still does that. Probably. Old habits die hard and I know she has no desire to change. But I still couldn't help wonder if she has changed at all? I lingered on the thought for a moment until I snapped out of it when I saw a tall, dark haired boy walk in. He was thin, but his muscles looked toned through his black v-neck, his thick hair was long like a skater boy and wavy like my father's, our father's. He must have not given me a second look cause he just walked straight to the fridge. I stood up and walked around the island to meet him. As he closed the fridge, he looked down at me. He was so tall now, he easily could've rested him head on top of mine. I looked up at his big, brown eyes and saw our father in every feature on his face. He had his full, pink lips and his high cheek bones and chiseled jaw. His eyebrows were perfectly arched, like mine but thicker. It took him a moment to recognize me, I looked a lot different from when I first left. My hair used to be long and brown, and my gauges had gotten pretty big with a collection of several other pre-meditated piercings. He took in my face and his expression looked hurt but he embraced me anyways. Then he spoke in a deep voice I hardly recognized.

"I've missed you"

I started to tear up but spoke threw my sobs, "So your not mad?"

He rubbed my back as he held me and spoke again, "Of course not, I mean at first I was but not anymore."

I took in a deep breath, he smelt of Acqua De Gio. I remember when our dad gave him his first cologne, it was Acqua De Gio, which was an extra bottle that he had bought when he thought he lost his, which he found behind the sink later.

I sighed and smiled into his chest, "You smell like dad."

He let out a small chuckle, "Yeah I know."

I had forgot our mom was standing off to the side probably wondering why mine and her encounter was completely different. She was completely oblivious like that. I turned out of Johnny's bear hug and stood next to him so I could face her. I didn't notice at first but I guess during our little reunion a man had entered the kitchen. He was huge, I mean like football player huge; my mother looked like a small child standing next to him. He had to be at least 6'3".

Johnny lead in and whispered, "Oh just so you know, that's mom's new husband."

"Damn," was all I could say on the matter.

He laughed, "Yeah, he's a football player. They've been married about a year and a half now," he paused then said, "you know you've really missed a lot in the past couple years."

I nodded, "no shit."