Page 63 of The Infinite Light of Dust

Maybe she was on drugs? Or had she really convinced herself that her perspective was okay? She seemed genuinely happy and at peace; maybe her perspective was just that, hers. Did that make it okay? I wasn’t sure anymore.

“I’ve been traveling around the South for a while, deciding where to settle, and ironically, I started dating a soldier! Who would have thought? He’s younger than me, embarrassingly so, but he’s a good guy. And he’s stationed here for now, but got orders for Hawaii.” She tried to cover her smile with her hands, looking like a smitten schoolgirl. “I get to live in Hawaii, Kare. You know I’ve always loved Hawaii.”

“You’ve never so much as mentioned Hawaii in my life, but good for you?” I pushed my hands through my hair, tugging at the roots in an attempt to ground myself.

“You’re being a little judgmental.”

If I was a violent person, I would have slapped her across the face right then and there.

“I am judging you. Not because you’re dating someone or moving to Hawaii. I’m judging you because you basically told me that you’ve decided being a mother wasn’t for you, like it wouldn’t hurt or impact me to hear that. Like I’m supposed to just smile and be happy for you? As if I hadn’t spent the last six years wondering where you were, worrying about you, thinking you missed me. You haven’t asked me a single question, like if I’m okay or what I’ve been doing since you left. You haven’t even given me a hug.” My emotions took over and I couldn’t control my voice as it cracked, but I refused to cry even though it felt nearly impossible not to.

“I was just filling you in on my life, I thought you would be happy for me. I haven’t gotten the chance to ask you anything yet,” she said, manipulation covering her words.

“You’ve had years.”

“I told you I was finding my way. You really are like your father, always focusing on the negative, always demanding.”

“Stop saying that!” I screamed. “You don’t even know me! You chose not to, and you show up here for what? What do you need from Dad anyway? Money? Are you on drugs?”

My mother lunged toward me but I dodged her before she could touch me. “Drugs? Don’t you dare accuse me of being on drugs because you can’t accept that I’m happy.”

“All I’ve ever hoped for is that you’re happy, but this entire time I had this idea in my head that you were pining for me, missing me every day, hoping that I was taken care of, but in reality you’ve completely erased me from your life, memory, and future. I thought you were here to, I don’t know, apologize, or at least feel a little bit bad for all the pain you’ve caused.”

“I was also in pain,” she had the audacity to say.

“I was a child!”

“But you’re not anymore. You should be able to understand what I went through and why I had to leave and stay gone. I did what was best for all of us.”

The words clicked and I realized she was right. Her leaving was probably the best thing that had happened to me and my brother, even if it had hurt like hell and given us both different forms of trauma. I couldn’t imagine how much worse it would have gotten, and she had already left us in a house that was burning. As I was about to remind her of that, an orange hatchback car pulled up in front of the house. I couldn’t make out the face but there was a man behind the wheel. He called her name and she waved, smiling like we had been simply talking about the weather.

“You’re right. You are not meant to be a mother and should have never been one,” I told her.

“Karina, that’s harsh. I don’t want to leave on this note, but I have to go. Your brother has my number if you want to call me, but I assume you won’t.”

As pathetic as it was, I was still hoping for her to hug me, one last embrace before disappearing from my life again. But there was no embrace, no affection, no comfort. Just a narcissistic woman I had longed for when I shouldn’t have.

As she got into the car she waved at me, and I tried to memorize her face one last time before I broke down, crumbling onto the hard surface of the porch, crying not for me, but for the little girl who’d created her own fantasy of a mother she never had.

I didn’t hear the door open, but before I knew it Estelle was next to me, her arms wrapping around my shoulders as she hugged my shaking body. Flashes of my childhood ran through my mind; both versions of my mother were there as we danced around the living room, made beaded bracelets, braided my hair, then as she sat lifeless on the couch for days, screamed at my dad for working too much, told me stories of escaping and never coming back.

“Karina, I’m so sorry,” Estelle cried, stroking my hair.

I untucked my chin and looked at her. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face blotchy and full of anguish. She felt more for me than my mother did, and that revelation made me even more emotional. I hugged her back and the porch swing rocked in the wind, bumping into my arm and scratching it. I pushed it away, suddenly disgusted by it, but it swung back and almost hit me again.

“This swing! Fuck! I never want to sit on this again,” I told Estelle.

She looked at it, and back to me. “Let’s take it down?”

“Really? Don’t you like it?”

“I like you more. And I’ve always hated that fucking thing, if I’m being honest.”

Estelle being the person to comfort me was not what I’d expected, but I welcomed it. I stood up, brushing my work pants off.

“How exactly do we take it down?” I wanted to smash the thing into a million pieces, but logically, I didn’t know what to do unless she handed me a hammer.

We looked at one another and shared a laugh. Both of us were still wet from crying, but we stood there laughing as my father joined us. He was beyond confused as he took in the sight of two half-mad women on his porch laughing and crying at the same time.

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