But yes, she used to tell me the day I took my first breath the sky was in flames. The mixture of both red and orange hue made it seem as if the sky was on fire. At the time it seemed believable to me.
I never knew what was true or what was a lie when it came to my mother. She was that good. I guess living with the devil for so long forces you to get really good at lying, pretending and well… surviving. Perhaps that’s why I could never bring myself to resent her. Not really. Renata Parisi was so much more than just a slave to her vices. She was a broken woman who loved a little too hard and life broke her. Correction, Gabriele broke her until she was just a shell of who she once was. My relationship with my mother was different from my sisters. Their memories with Renata were pretty much non-existent while I had sweet ones and ugly ones too.
I never told my sisters. I couldn’t.
I’m taking the memories I share with our mother to my grave.
It’s bad enough to be neglected and hated by one parent but by both of them? That would’ve hurt them more than they already were. And how do you tell your sisters that their mother resented them but not me? You don’t. That’s it.
Now as I sit in this quiet library, I look out the window and appreciate the beauty of a red sky as my mother loved to call it.
The day you were born, my love, the sky turned red. It bled for you.
I still hear my mother’s slurred voice in my head as I watch the sun setting to welcome the night.
And I’m taken back to one of the few lovely memories I have of my mother.
* * *
“You are so beautiful, my little rain cloud.” Mommy stands behind me brushing my hair and looking as pretty as a Disney princess. Mommy has long blonde hair that reaches her back in loose waves and the prettiest eyes that remind me so much of the sky when it’s not raining. I don’t look like my mommy. I don’t look like anyone in my family. I think that’s why daddy hates me so much. Maybe that is why he yells so much and hurts me more.
He likes to hurt mommy, too.
Lifting my gaze from the jewelry box that sits on top of mommy’s vanity our eyes lock. Hers don’t look weird like most nights when she acts funny or when she’s tired. Today they shine even when there’s a purplish bruise around her left eye.
Daddy did that.
They’re always fighting. It hurts my sisters. It hurts me too.
“Does it hurt, mommy?” I whispered nervously not wanting to make her sad. I don’t like it when she’s sad. When my mommy smiles the world seems a little less dark but when she goes away it’s scary.
Mommy pauses brushing my hair, leans down and drops a kiss on top of my head. “Not now. Not now, Kadra.” Mommy whispers with a smile on her face.
Not now.
I smile at her too.
She’s the only one beside Nonna and my sisters who smiles at me and treats me with kindness.
“God you have his smile, baby.” Mom’s smile brightens as she pokes my nose, making me smile wider. “I prayed for you. I prayed you looked just like him.” She whispers almost reverently as if remembering a fond memory of the past.
Mommy then straightens and puts the brush down next to my hand. Noticing the dark brown strands on the brush, I look in the mirror as mommy stands behind me with her hands now on my shoulders and her smile still in place. I think this is the longest my mother has ever smiled.
I prayed you looked just like him…
I frown when I think about the man she’s speaking of. Gabriele Parisi has blonde hair the same shade as both Arianna and Mila. A little darker than mommy’s’. My oldest sister has green eyes like Dad and my baby sister has the same shade of blue as mommy.
Then there’s me with dark hair and cat-like light brown eyes, nothing like my family.
Nothing like daddy.
Suddenly my chest feels tight and my eyes become blurry. I feel my mother’s gentle touch on my chin lifting my teary gaze to hers through the mirror. “No, don’t cry, my love.” She whispers fiercely while brushing my hair back away from my face and looking at me through the mirror’s reflection. “There’s nothing to cry about, Kadra.” Her smile is wobbly now. “You’re different and I love you more for it. You’re him.”
Him?
Mommy confuses me. She says funny things sometimes and I don’t know if she’s being truthful or if it’s the effects of her happy pills. Then before I know it, she lifts me from the stool into her arms. I instantly wrap my arms around her neck and feel her warmth envelope me. She’s always so warm. It’s nice. I don’t get that often but when I do it means everything. I just wish my sisters knew how it felt to feel the warm and gentle touch of a mother. Our mother.
Mom’s arms tighten around me as she walks us to the window and sits on the window frame. The sun is setting and the sky looks like a mixture of orange and red. “Let me tell you the story of when you were born, baby. The sky bled for you. It knew a warrior was born that day…”