The Addiction

The Addiction - Chapter 1 Pt 2

Marel Margret (Elize's Grandmother)

1955

Marel Margret, Elize Esponanza's Grandmama, had a abusive childhood while growing up.

Her vision was blinded by the nasty thick smell of tobacco smoke and sweat.

Her father, the owner of a run down store named Cascmo; (its exterior was run down with slanted blood red bricks and a crooked sign that spelled dirt and dust as long as the title.)

had gambled away all his family's money after marrying his wife.

They lived in poverty. Marel Margret can distinctly remember the day when she was 18  in the living room, reading a book that was gifted to her from her own Grandmama a few years ago. It was priceless to her, and the only thing she very much cared about.

Her mother was sewing with what little string she had left, to make hats and socks for low sell in the store. This is all she could do, if they get a buyer, her husband would take the money and go gamble away in a smoke shop somewhere.

As Marel Margret continued to read, her heart starts to beat quicker as she hears big lumbering footsteps come towards their door.

Even her mother had stopped sowing to listen with intent.

Her husband was home, she knew, but she couldn't move.

The handle of the door moves visouscly as a series of insults and degrading words spills from his slurred mouth.

The door bursts open to reveal her father, his face furious and crimson with alcohol, and his hands gripped in fists.

"I know you did it, you idiotic woman!"

Marel Margret's father screams to her own mother.

Her mother's face goes dark and she ignores him, continuing to sow the remaining bands left.

He goes closer to her, each footstep like a log falling to earth, while Marel Margret's heart continues to bump excessively in her chest.

She watched with scared lonely eyes, but this is the one out of many times she had witness this.

"You lied to me before, but I know you did it you stupid woman! You don't think I would find out? W-What where you thinking you idiot. I should throw you to the street for this!"

"What?" Marel's mom pipes up, setting her work on her lap to look up menacingly at her husband.

"What had I done?"

"You sold my cigarettes! I know you did!"

"Oh? How!? You always come home so drunk, and you're calling me an idiot for providing for this family? Go to hell!"

Her husband threateningly points a finger to her face, spittle forming on his lip as he yells.

"How dare you sell them and lie to me!? I had to find out from a sale clerk that you've been selling my things to him!"

"What could I do? We have no money because of your stupid gambling addiction! I will sell all your clothes, all the useless things you've brought home from your stupid gambling friends!"

Suddenly, all the air gets knocked out of Marel Margret as she witnesses what she had never thought was even possible.

With a sound wrenched from her mother's throat, she falls to the floor, her work and material scattered across the living room carpet.

Her left cheek was blotched with a red hand print, now turning blue as tears stingingly form in her disbelieving eyes.

The monster that used to be a husband and father, stares daggers at his fallen wife.

"You will not ever speak to me that way again. I've let it go so many times before but i have reached my limit. If I hear you say that one more time, I will throw you out to the street where you can work in some brothel for all I care." He says, taking one last look at her before descending to his room across the hallway.

Marel Margret throws her book aside, and with wide eyes, goes to her mother and hugs her while tears she didn't even know where there, were rolling down her cheeks like waterfalls.

Her mother did not respond.

She let her daughter hang on around her neck, but her dismissiveness was almost like she didn't notice she was there.

"I'm so sorry my mother. How could he... how could he..."

"He's a idiot drunk bastard, that's why."

Marel Margret can still remember the angry welt that sat on top of her mother's skin like a huge signal that things have changed.

------------

Later on, on Marel Margret's 20th birthday, she had decided to move somewhere far away from her father, and begged her mother to come with her.

"There is no where I can go my child. My life is here. In Venezuela." Her mother said, her hands still swiftly sewing various cloths together to make things she could sell.

No matter what she had tried, her mother was stubborn, and said it was bad luck for a woman to separate from the man she had married.

She grabbed her daughter's chin, and made sure her brown eyes were focused on hers.

"You are not tied to this place my daughter. You can go wherever the wind may take you. Across seas with people who you can call your close friends and family. Into countries that no other person in this village had ever seen with their own eyes before.And hopefully find someone that will give you better then this-" Her mother gestured to their rundown room besides the store they were currently operating.

"Give you the better life that you deserve... Here, I've got something for you."

Inside the little pocket of her mother's worn down apron was a envelope which her mother hands out to her. As Marel Margret takes it, her mother clamps both her hands over her's and whispers softly. 

"It is money for your travels, use it wisely. But you must not tell your father about this, or he'll take it away and go gamble it off somewhere. Be strong my daughter, your father doesn't want you to leave. He wants you to stay and tend to the store so he can get more money, but I won't let you inherit this fate as well."

Marel Margret's eyes tears up from her mother's kind words. She puts the envelope in the bag next to her and hugged her mother so tightly, she felt like she could never let go. Even if her father had disowned the idea of her leaving to pursue something better for her life, she could still feel the pang in her heart from not saying goodbye to him before she left. 

So, on the night of her leaving, when both her parents were asleep, she wrote a letter to her father, which she put on his drinking stand.