Violets Are Blue

chapter 7: Violet

I had to find out what happened on that court date. How did she lose me when she just won me? I felt like it’ll change my life. That it will prove something to me that I have been dreading my entire life. What if my mother wasn’t the woman I set her out to be? What if my father lied to get me? What if she truly lost me for being an actual unfit mother and drug addict, and not just a victim of loss?
             I always thought it was Abigail’s influence on my father that caused it, and I still do. Maybe, just maybe someone or even Abigail had somehow convinced the court that my mother was unfit for me. There was only one place to check: My father’s old office in the house.
             I walked up the steps and towards the door at the end of the hall. I tried to open it but it was locked. I searched around the house for a key or something that could be used as a key, but I was unlucky. I wondered if the key is in his room, but I didn’t want to look in there, out of the possibility that Abigail might catch me.
             As I was walking down the stairs the front door open and in came Abigail. I noticed a hospital band on her wrist. I also noticed her necklace, hanging around her neck. It was a key. It must have been a gift from my father to her. It was the only other key in the house, besides the gate and house key. Both used by one key. My father had a habit of losing keys so he would have one key for many uses.
              “Do you have the key to get into my father’s office?” I asked, being straightforward.
              “I don’t. He must have put it somewhere in the house.” She replied.
            I noticed her eyes widening and her hands getting a bit shaky. She was lying. That key was my only clue, and I had to get it. I waited in my room and heard the knock on my door signaling food on the floor. I took it, but wasn’t hungry.
              Once the clock struck twelve o’clock I creeped out my door and toward Abigail’s room. I slowly opened the door and tiptoed in. She was already asleep. I stepped in the room, and realized this is the first time I’ve been in here. It was a nice decoration to my surprise. A black cabinet, with a matching drawer and mirror, the bed poles were a dark brown wood with the mattress comforter being a wine red. I also saw the pile of snack wrapping on the nightstand next to her. My only thought was that she was coping with the loss of my father through food. I don’t even think I have a cope.
               I saw Abigail in the bed and she had her head turned away from me. I looked around for the necklace but had no luck. I searched her jewelry box, the bathroom, and my father’s jewelry, most of it was still neatly placed in the box, untouched since he died. His green emerald wedding ring was kept in a glass case on her nightstand.
               I looked back to Abigail and walked around to the other side of the bed. I was shocked to see her holding a framed picture of my father. I didn’t know how to react to it. She was sleeping with it as if it were him. I felt some sort of connection with her. Despite how much I didn’t like her, I saw that she loved my father. Nevertheless I didn’t want to live with her, I still blame her for ending my parent’s relationship, and I just need proof to justify it.
             I saw the necklace. It was wrapped around her neck. I had to get it. I walked to the front side of the bed and lightly pulled down the cover so her neck was bare. I walked back to the side she was turned away from and lightly unhooked the chain, but it fell from my hand. It hit her skin and she turned her head. I quickly walked toward the end of the bed before she could see me. She was half asleep and dozed off. I walked to the other side and grabbed the necklace and was on my way, leaving the door slightly open so I wouldn’t make a noise when I have to bring it back.
           I walked back to the office door and hoped it would open it. It did. I closed the door on my way in and turned on the lights. I searched around the office for any old documents. I moved around the books on the shelves and opened each drawer. The only thing that was strange was the second opening behind the first drawer, but even that was empty.
I pulled out the one drawer in the center of his desk and felt a piece of paper on the bottom of it. I looked at it and read it. It was a folded piece of paper. The only paper that described what happened at the end of the court. It said that Due to Abigail’s appearance, Rose Jefferson has lost all custody to her child as well as visitation rights until her eighteenth birthday. I see why why father would want to hide this. He knew I would end up in his law firm office soon so he moved it into the one other place he knew I would never go into.
            I put the paper back in place and went back to Abigail’s room. I wanted to wake her up and tell her what I read. But I didn’t. This wasn’t the right time to get back at her. I placed the necklace in her hand so it would appear she yanked it off in her sleep. I walked to my bed and laid down. I couldn’t sleep.
I was right. It was Abigail’s fault I don’t live with my mother. Whatever she said, it caused my mother to lose any chance of being able to raise me from when I was nine. I wondered how life would have been like if my mother was given custody of me. Would she still be on drugs? I always thought she started doing drugs because of the emotional trauma done by not being able to be with me and my father. Abigail was the reason all along and I had proof.
             The next day after school I headed to my mother’s. Once there I saw her once again sitting on the porch. She saw me and got up to walk toward me. She hugged me. I was happy to see her, and from the looks of it as was she.
“Mom, you won’t believe this,” I said with a smile. “I found out the truth about why you never gained custody of me.”
               I felt her tense up a bit, “You did?” She said in a nervous tone. I wondered why she tensed, but knowing her history I didn’t feel the need to ask.
“I found a piece of document that said Abigail was the reason why you lost custody of me.”
She hugged me harder, and had a look of relief on her face. Why would she be relieved to hear that?
            Mom then said, “I told you to never doubt mama. I always told you it was that white bitch fault. She caused all of this.”
“She did.” I said. I need to get away from Abigail. I don’t see any reason for her to even try to take care of me. I remembered Abigail holding a framed picture of dad. I quickly rejected that thought and tried to remember that my mother is trying to get me away from her. My mother wants me, and that’s all that mattered.
            I was taken away from thought when I heard my mother say, “You bring me some money baby-girl?”
I took out the money I had and gave it to her. She held it tightly as if it was for dear life. I squeezed her shoulder but she acted as if I was not even touching her.
            I saw that she was always stuck in the past; she never looked toward the future.
“Do you want to come see the old house? You know we still live in it.” Her face lit up and she eagerly agreed. I hope seeing the house would bring her back to the present, and maybe bring back pieces of her old self. Before everything happened.
            Before I allowed my mother in the house, I walked in first to see if I was alone. Luckily Abigail was gone. I opened the door and allowed her inside. She was gasping at everything. She went into the living room.
             “Everything sure has changed.” She said.
This must have been all new to her. The food, the furniture, the big screen TV, and the many books my father collected over the years. I know she hasn’t seen or touched anything nice in a long time.
              She walked into my room, “I remember when this was a nursery room when you were first born.” She was in complete nostalgia. She looked at every single piece of furniture and material in each room. It was like she was trying to remember everything she saw. I led her back to the living room.
             “You like the house?” I asked.
             “It brings back a lot of memories.” She said.
She noticed the pictures of Abigail and my father. Her tone changed.
             “I still don’t see why he married that white bitch,” My mother said, “I gave him everything, I gave him my time, I gave him a child, what more did he want from me?”
             I rubbed her shoulders, trying to comfort her. “Why did dad leave you?” I asked.
My mother stared at the picture for a while. “I don’t know.” she said. I had a feeling she was lying to me, but I saw no evidence in her speech so I dismissed it.  “One day I woke up. He was distant and told me to leave. We ended up having a custody battle and I won you, but then that white bitch came and she told the judge something that made me lose you, my baby-girl.”
            She touched my face and I grabbed her hand and held it. I missed her touch. I know she has touched me many times but I could feel the love in this one. I could feel all the pain she has been through. I could feel all of the sadness she had in her soul, and she’s been using drugs to fill that void ever since.
            “Do you know what Abigail said?” I asked.
            “No,” She said without looking into my eyes, “Whatever she said, I was not allowed back into the courtroom. I was given visitation rights, but lost that again, when she proved to the court that I was considered unfit when I wasn’t.”
            I have been waiting to hear her say that for a very long time. To say that it truly was not her fault, that she has done nothing wrong, and needed to survive in a world, when she herself had just been exiled from her own.
          I heard the door open. It was Abigail. I told my mother to quickly leave out the back door. I walked to the kitchen before she could see me, and peered in the fridge to look like I was getting food.
          “What are you doing?” she asked, when she saw me.
          “None of your damn business.” I said.
          She sighed and looked at me for a second. Before I could say anything mean she walked away. I went to my room taking a can of soda. I pulled out a shoe box from under my bed. I pulled out the pictures of my family. Their wedding pictures were as nice as ever. I saw my mother. She had that same smile; the one she had when she was lost in nostalgia a while ago. She was happy.
          Right then and there I know my mom needed help with her problem, maybe she didn’t see it but I did. I wanted her to get better, be a better person, be a proper human, and be my mother again. I pulled out the card I got from the lady the other day from my school blazer and read it.
Harold and Co. Self-help and rehabilitation clinic. There was an address on the back.