A Mother's Struggle

Chapter 37

Son of a Miranda, it is. My heart sinks at the image in front of me that does not seem to go away.

I could tell by the sound of his voice. He is seated, laughing with Chris and Jessica. I wonder what it is that they are talking about.

His hair is nicely cut into a hi-top fade. He is wearing a black suit, a white shirt with a black tie that has small designs. He has a glass of the same wine Jessica ordered in front of him and I wish I could just take a gulp of it. Staring at him just makes me want to puke. I have to keep it together though. His face disgusts me. What do I do? I need water.

More like a whole glass of wine, my sub-conscience mocks me.
My breathing is starting to get rapid and I wish that black hole would appear right now. I need to leave this place. I knew something had to go wrong with this night.

My nightmare just came from the dead and it is rich and happy and it kills me. I should always trust my instincts.

As I am about to run back to the ladies' room, Chris notices me.

"Hey baby, meet my best friend, my number one man, my go-to guy, and a brother." He stands up and shows me to his friend.
I don't say anything. Instead, I just freeze there and so does the guy. We are staring at each other and it seems to make Chris and Jessica uncomfortable.

"Hello." I fake a smile.

I am not liking this at all. Not knowing what to do is just the worst feeling ever.

"Hi." He returns the fake smile and Chris directs me to sit down. I guess we are both trying to keep this short.

The air is yet thickening again. The tension rises and I feel my hand shaking.

I do not want to ruin the night for both of them, what do I do? Chris and Jessica look like they have million questions for us, but they do not ask. I sit down but I am very unsettled. I want to leave. I want to go far away and never return. My leg is shaking, my thoughts are crazy. I want to strangle this man, I want to see him suffer.

I thought for sure he would be suffering, I thought God would punish him for his cruelty but instead, he is about to propose and I am invited? Almost like the universe is rubbing this in my face, it's teasing me. He seems happy with Jessica.

This night is dragging. Like I said, the worst moments go by tediously. Our food is brought and everybody is focusing on clearing their plates.

Is it going to be rude if I ask Chris to leave?

Tears are pricking my eyelids and I try hard to blink them away.
When I cry, it does not start from the eyes, it starts from within. It begins as a heavy feeling in my chest and sadness in my brain. Crying has always been the only way I cope with pain. Is how I feel right now pain? I feel like my healing wound has been cut open yet again, using a sharp knife this time. He has been happy and rich this whole time?

I bite my tongue, trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to escape my eyes. Everybody else is laughing and talking and I am just eating my food in silence. I cannot hold back these tears anymore. One salty tear escapes from my left eye. I can feel the warmth, slowly sliding down my cheek and rolling off my chin to my chest. Memories flood my mind, lots and lots of them. How I transitioned from paradise, to so much suffering then so much happiness.

I gaze at the couple, they are happy, they are laughing. I do not see any pain. This is not the life I anticipated he had.
Nobody has their focus on me until I sniff twice. I wipe my tear so quickly so that they do not notice. When they look, another one slides down so fast and I taste the saltiness as it lands on my lip.

"Baby, are you okay?" Chris asks me.

"Yea, I'm fine." I lie and wipe my tear away.

"Are you sure, you don't look so good." He says, obviously as the caring boyfriend.

"Uh...I want to go home. I do not feel so well." I whisper to him.

I figured if I stay here, I will go mad. I will end up flipping tables of this beautiful restaurant and ruining a good proposal.

He does not argue with me, he shrugs to the "lovely" couple before we leave. During the drive home, he does not ask anything. Honestly, home is not too far away for me, I need to go somewhere really, really far. I need to escape this madness.

When I get home, I rush to the bathroom. The kids seem to be sleeping. It is very quiet.

I look at myself in the mirror, the second time tonight. The bathroom feels smaller and creepy.
That woman I saw in the mirror earlier on, she is not here anymore. She has disappeared into thin air. What is left is that old Mmampho. The Mmampho before Chris. The broken Mmampho.

Old wounds were opened, pain has returned. I do not see myself as gorgeous anymore. The peace and happiness are gone. I cannot get his picture out of my mind. I cannot.
Chris knocks on the door.

"I'll come to your room." I tell him.

My eyes drip with tears, they drop from my chin and drench my dress. My emotions feel raw, my pain feels raw, as if I have not been working the last few months to drive it away. It took so long to drift away but it was so quick to return. The tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down my face. An old would has been opened and it feels more painful.

Why can't I stop crying?

I remember when pain was a part of me. When tears used to be the only thing that kept my soul alive. When I used to have constant stress and pain. When the mention of his name built up the hatred in me each and everyday. I had no one to talk to, my children tried but I couldn't heal. But when I did, I thought it would be permanent, I thought the happiness, the peace was permanent. Seeing his face disturbed my healing process, it feels like I was cut deep all over again.

Chris knocks again and I unlock the door and return to my curled up position I held on the bathroom floor, with my face covered in salty water and buried in my knees and the top of my dress is drenched.

He looks at me, he has nothing to say. He sits next to me in silence and I lean against his shoulder. I sniff every two seconds and that sound together with my soft sobs, are the only sounds audible.

"What's going on?" He finally asks me.
I do not think I can say anything. I do not think I want to say anything.

"Nothing." I say softly.

"You cry so much, your dress is drenched and you say nothing is wrong? You know you can talk to me right?" He says.
His words touch me and the tears keep flowing, my sobs are louder this time.

"I will go get you water, we will talk when you are able to, okay?" He says as he leaves the bathroom.

I was making progress, I was doing good. You mean one night ruined all that progress? Will I ever completely heal?