The Dreamer

Chapter 17

The room was filled with steam. Sarah set a little table by the tub. Carefully, she served a glass of wine and left the bottle on the table. The water in the tub was clear and transparent. She threw the little pink ball in the water and sat at the edge to see it bubbling while it dissolved in the water. When the water had a uniform pinkish color she removed the towel and tipped the right toe in the water. It was pleasantly warm. She stepped in the water and gently sat down on the tub, feeling the warm sensation moving from her legs to her hips, then her belly and chest, until the water was at level with her neck. Oh nice, she though. The lights were out and only candles lighted the place. She felt tempted to close her eyes and just drift into a deep and restful sleep.

However, every time she closed her eyes, she just went right back to the moment she felt her mother's hand on her face. Instinctively she touched her cheek gently. Ironically, that wasn't the most hurtful memory she shared with Martha.

Before the accident happened, way before that, their relationship was already messy enough. Sarah looked at her naked body under the pinkish water. When she was thirteen, a boy in school grabbed her breast. Sarah had stood frozen in place when it happened, and all she did was stare at him as he walked away laughing and high-fiving his friends. That day she existed in utter silence. The whole day she couldn't focus in classes. She wanted to tell someone but she felt she would start crying out of shame the minute she opened her mouth. The one place where she was supposed to feel safe wasn't much help. She remembered as she approached her mother and tried to retell the story.

"Mom, I need to tell you something," she had said in a timid voice. Sarah fidgeted with her hands in the tub as she had done when she was a kid back then.

"What is it?" Martha replied without even taking a glance at her, her attention was in things much more important, her TV show.

Sarah remembered how she stood there in silence not sure in how to bring it up. Her eyes were wet. Regardless, Martha kept her focus on the screen. Finally she took a glance at her. "Don't stand there like an idiot, what do you want? I don't have to be all the time working for you, do I? God damn it, can't get a break."

Sarah felt her heart racing just like it did back then. She mumbled an apology and retraced her steps, but by then Martha had stood up, thrown the remote at Sarah and walked out of the room. "It's yours," she said in her way out.

That night Andrew asked her if she was okay and Sarah broke in tears. Andrew consoled her and the next day went to the school to get the boy punished.

Earlier when Sarah was eleven, she had asked Martha about makeup. Lisa, one of Sarah's classmates, had a makeup party at her home, and invited her friends. Lisa's mom made some snacks, and then Lisa asked her how to put on makeup. The woman sat down to explain how makeup was simply covering the beauty they already had. She went on and expressed her opinions about when and how is makeup appropriate to wear and especially for what reasons. The next day, Sarah asked her mother out of curiosity if she could try some makeup.

"What? Are you going to go around being a slut?" Martha said and walked out of the room, her signature move. "Don't come crying to me when you get fucking knocked up."

Sarah just waited for her father to get home, and Andrew patiently agreed to buy something very basic so she could see what it felt like, but she could only wear it at home. For every little thing that Martha was obsolete, Andrew did his best to fulfill the role of both mother and father. This in turn led to almost daily fighting between her parents, one of them asking the other to try harder as a parent, and the other defensively blaming Sarah.

"Are you happy now? You stupid useless shit. If your father and I split, you will be stuck with me, you hear me, so don't even try to break us apart." Martha had said once. Her red face very close to Sarah's. Her breath was disgusting, filled with the stench of smoke and scotch. Trembling, Sarah had just nodded.

She took a glance at the cup of wine right next to her in the bathtub. I just hope to never be like her.

When she was seven, and Sophie was five, Martha forgot to pick them up from school. Or so she said, I bet she just felt lazy. So she asked a neighbor to bring them in her car. Sarah refused to get in the car and waited for her mother, holding Sophie's hand. An hour went by and Martha never showed up. The teacher tried calling her home's phone but there was not answer. After calling Martha's mobile and getting no response, she opted to call Andrew at the office. He rushed to get them and there was another huge fight between Martha and Andrew. Martha had expended most of the afternoon drinking.

Sarah lifted her glass. "Cheers," she said to the empty room. "You did an awesome job mother. I hope you don't do the same to that poor boy." I hope you are not making him feel worthless as you did with me; I hope you are not blaming him for everything that you couldn't accept about your life. I hope you have only one, otherwise you would be setting your children against each other as often as you could. In a way, it was best if he was adopted. There was no father in the picture, so he wouldn't need to see constant fighting. Yet in the other hand, he had nobody to take care of him. However, she was so curious about the way he stood by her side. Could it be possible that you are doing something right in your life for once, Martha?

She had countless stories about the poor work her mother did. She wasn't there when Sarah needed any kind of advice. She wasn't there when Sarah was in pain. She refused to share the happy moments. Sarah was simply part of the background in the house, nothing more significant than a lamp. And after the accident, she was even more worthless than the lamp.

At eighteen, Sarah couldn't handle her mother anymore. She was no longer a child, and it led to constant fights now that she could stand up for herself. Martha left for few days, God knows where, and then she would return and try to make Sarah feel guilty. Andrew never mentioned a divorce, but Sarah knew he was not happy. What held you there daddy? Why go through that hell with a narcissistic alcoholic, and why bring us through it all? The minute the opportunity came, Sarah left. She moved in with her high-school boyfriend. Far from home, she went into debt to afford a room in her college's dorm with her boyfriend. She met Matthew in classes after her relationship with her boyfriend had failed. Matthew seemed very eager to be with her. They dated very briefly until they graduated few months later. The last thing she wanted was to go back home.

"Yes," she said enthusiastically when Matthew asked for her hand when she was only starting her twenties.

And then just within the next year, I lost my father and sister. She concluded her mental story. She remembered the last time she saw her mother after that. Martha blamed Sarah of the accident. With words such as stupid, slut, and cocksucker, Martha kicked Sarah out of her house and forbade her to come back.

Not that I wanted to be back anyways, Sarah though. However a part of her desperately wanted to hug her mother and feel she wasn't left alone after most of her immediate family passed.

Sarahfinished her glass of wine in big gulps and allowed herself to close her eyes.It had been a very intense and unusual day. She smiled at the randomness of allthe events. First there was the dream, then she went out for spices but endedup having a meeting with her mother, going to the park with Ali, having streetfood and ice cream, and ended her day in the tub with a bottle of wine. Shesmiled at herself. I guess the best daysare the unscripted ones.