Journey || Erik Durm

♀

CHARLOTTE:

         BEFORE my mother was devoured by her anorexia, she would seat me underneath the stars, her eyes glittering with mirth as she told me that I was a magnet for misfortunes. Having a long-withstanding streak of being correct, Mama was not far off in her accusation. I was notorious for acting on my impulses, for too often finding myself tangled in the most unfortunate of situations.

Therefore, it should be of no shock when I say that, I, Charlotte Löw, found myself abandoned on the boulevards of Pirmasens one morning. Penniless and directionless, my belongings had been heaved into suitcases and plastic bags by Manila, my mother's accomplice and my temporary landlord.

"You need to learn to grow up, Charlie," she muttered in silent disappointment, narrowing her eyes at my cowering figure. I latched onto my battered suitcases, my grip tight as I watched Manila's lips and suppressed the all-encompassing urge to retaliate with equal dismay. "Live life on your own terms, love," she continued; "sans dependency."

It fazed me that this same woman had once been my mother's best friend, guiding me through the slippery slopes of adolescence and promising to lead me through eternity after Mama's demise. We'll always have each other, Charlie, she would assure with warmth, so don't even dare to try and get rid of me. Now she was the one doing the getting rid of.

It had taken her three years: three years of preparation for this day when she fed me, a fragile prey, to the wolves without a rationale. After all, Manila knew that I had no one left, that my only remaining blood relative was my father, a man that I was not even educated on the name of, and that the likelihood of even his existence was distressingly low.

So I wondered why. Why was she doing this to me now, after all of those times she had vowed to never leave me alone? Now, after promising me that she wouldn't leave me scavenging for the pieces of my life that I had long lost?

I closed my eyes, pondering where I was and the nowhere that I was bound to go, it dawning on me that Mama had never been very far off. She was right—she always had been—for I didn't attract much; I only attracted trouble.