My Mother's White Elephant

A.N.- Everything in this story is true and really did happen to me the last time I saw my mom, so be sensitive with your critisism. Thanks.

“Get out!” She shouted.

                “No!” I said, for no other reason than to defy her and make her even angrier. She continued to scream about all of my mistakes and faults until I felt as if I would explode. I raised my fist above my head and brought it down hard on her shoulder. She took my hair and pulled me down on the bed with her. “Let go!” I screamed, only to have my demands unanswered. She simply took my hand in hers and brought it to her mouth. I held my shouts in my throat as I felt the blood trickle from my finger to my wrist. The scar still remains at the base of my thumb.

     My relationship with my mother when I was a child was as normal as it could be. I worshiped her. In my eyes she was beautiful and smart and could do no wrong. Needless to say, I was wrong. When I was fifteen, she moved into an apartment in Columbia for people with mental disabilities. She has many “disabilities”; from depression, to bipolar, and even on some days, her period. I was about fifteen when I realized that I had bypassed my mother in maturity. I had accepted the fact that she would never be a motherly figure to me, though it didn’t hurt any less to know that neither of my parents loved me like they should. Much like the white elephants of Thailand, I would always be neglected and taken for granted by both of them. My father was forgotten long ago; leaving shortly after the divorce when I was young. My mother however, came in and out of my life. I was happy for her when she moved into the apartments. She promised to get a job, take care of me, and be healthier. It was soon after the move that I realized that I shouldn’t have believed a word she said.

     The profound experience that broke the camel’s back occurred just last August.

     I was visiting her apartment with my brother who was coming from his father’s house for the weekend. I was excited; we had fought in the past but I was happy to get out of the house and visit her for a few days. On Friday night, it was only the two of us. My brother Jared would come the next day.

     Friday night went as well as it could. She was appropriate, and for the most part, emotionally stable. We barbecued with the neighbors. We cooked hot dogs and hamburgers while the kids in the building ran with sparklers and we lit citronella candles and talked about school, which had just started for me. But, as I had learned long before this night, healthy, happy Mandy doesn’t stay long. The next day was a completely different story.

     I woke up that morning, looking forward to the activities I was promised to be able to do with her and Jared. I was sorely disappointed. She didn’t think of rolling over until noon or so. And then she was sick again. This time she was on her period and unable to do anything but stay in bed for the day, because it is obviously a crippling condition. I shook it off. It wasn’t uncommon for my mother to stay in bed all day and be “sick”. I went to the kitchen and made myself a bowl of plain noodles for breakfast, as she hadn’t been to the food pantry that week and there wasn’t any food in the house. I would describe the condition of the apartment as normal as well. It wasn’t unusual for the house to be a mess, soda cans and dirty plates scattered and clothes and towels on the floor, a sink full of dirty dishes, rotting dinners from the week before still sitting on the stove. I made the noodles, still not thinking it was out of the ordinary. I ate the noodles, watching a swimming match on TV while Jared was talking to one of his girlfriends on Facebook, per usual for a fourteen year old on a Saturday. I set the noodles down on the coffee table after I couldn’t bear to take another bite; I’m not the best cook I the world.

      For the rest of the day, I would sleep off and on out of sheer boredom, as we weren’t doing anything. Mandy was still on her period and Jared had no desire to do anything else.