Misfortunate Molly: Would Heartbreak, Break You?

Chapter 28 Oh Brother

They turn and look at me. "Seriously?" I continue, "Why are you touching my things? Get the fuck out!" I am full on yelling and red in the face. The crack is boiling over and I cannot contain my annoyance and anger towards this person. Who gave them the right? They turn around slowly holding the bow that was in my hair the day my mommy left.

That bow holds all of my fond memories of her. How she used to do my hair and when she used to tell me fairy tales of the future that awaited us. When we would go around town and she would show me off to any and every person that would listen, the smile across her face and the gloating in her tone. She was so proud to have me as hers. Those are the memories that are tied within this bow. The bow that is now being disturbed from its position above my mirror.

"You still have this?" my abandoner asks, holding up the bow and looking like she is about to cry.

"Do NOT touch my things." I stalk over to her and snatch it out of her hand. Pointing to the door, I yell, "Get out NOW!" I am a foot away from her.

She straightens her back ready for a battle. "Molly, don't speak to me like that. I am your mother. You wi-" I cut her off.

"Were... You WERE my mother. You abandoned that position, remember?" I remind her. Her face softens some.

"Molly. There is a lot we need to discuss but I will not allow you to speak to me disrespectfully." She still thinks she has the right to boss me.

"Allow me? You really believe that you have any right to speak to me at all? You can't be serious. Now get out of my room... Please." I say please with as much sarcasm as I can manage with squinted eyes and a bullshit smile.

She looks me over and swallows, then proceeds to walk towards the door. As she exits, I rush and slam the door as she goes to turn around. I push my back flat against the door. It takes a couple seconds before I hear her walk away. I close my eyes and take a huge breath to try and settle my anger.

After all these years this woman, my mother, my abandoner, the first person to break my heart in two, the woman that birthed me just to leave, the person that used to color and paint with me, is back. And for what? Because she saw how I was dressed on a news broadcasting? I have so many questions for this woman but I cannot stand to be in her presence.

I am now slowly sliding down the inside of the door. I feel my face damped and my throat begins to sting. I wipe my face and look at my smeared tears. I hate that I am crying right now. She does not deserve my tears. She deserves nothing from me. I am so overwhelmed right now. I am not sure how much more I can take. Tomorrow is My Love's funeral and I need to save my tears for him. He deserves them.

I look up and see my former bedroom. All my memories. My entire life plastered all over the walls. My laptop still resting on my bed. My clothes draped over my chair. My desk still stacked with books from school and college pamphlets. My shoe rack still lined with all my sneakers and footwear. The sunlight still overtaking my room from the huge bay windows lining my wall. The soft colored curtains pulled to the side. My shelf full of plants are still alive; I think Sherrie has been watering them for me.

My eyes lock in on an 8x10 of Curtis and I. The framed picture is resting between two different plants. I am not sure how I made it over here but the picture is now in my hand and little droplets are now staining the glass, covering his perfect face.

Him and I are smiling into the camera. He has his arm resting on my shoulder and my arms are wrapped around his waist. He is wearing the green sweater I now possess. I push away my tears from the glass and rub my finger over his face, over and over again. I am grateful for pictures because I was beginning to lose his features. His eyes are so full of life. So full of the promise for the future. His smile is bright and his stance is relaxed.