Page 30 of Breathe Again

He dipped to offer her his cheek and she replied, “Even if there were ten, you’d still be my favorite!”

She turned to Olivia. “Come to Gran-gran, darling. Give me a kiss.”

“No kisses, Gran-Gran, just hugs,” Olivia reminded her.

“Oh, that’s right. Silly Gran-Gran. Give me a big hug, then.”

Olivia was hugged and released, and then my mother turned to me.

I felt the sudden urge to retreat. Repulsed, the last thing I wanted at that moment was my mother’s arms around me, or her kiss on my cheek. The air was thick with deceit, she was a fraud, and I was trapped. I hated to feel trapped.

She’d dressed up for our visit, wearing her signature sapphire earrings, her hair curled, and her face perfectly made up. All decked out in designer dress pants and a silk blouse, this display was for Zale’s benefit. I believe the point she wished to make was that I didn’t get my frumpiness from her. She turned her too bright eyes in my direction.

“And how is my baby?”

I dutifully leaned over so she could kiss my cheek and gave her the best hug I could muster considering the mix of emotions I was currently attempting to contain. Though I knew how she normally was, and I fully understood this show was for Zale, something needy inside me responded to the facade of care and acceptance she was exhibiting.

I sickened myself.

Olivia came bouncing back over with her card and I welcomed the interruption.

In the kitchen, I started the coffee and unpacked the chocolate eclairs, her favorites, that we had picked up from the bakery around the corner. As I put them on a plate I contemplated the reason everyone else in my life got home-baked goods and she got store bought. Every time I brought something over that I baked, she critiqued it, suggested a way to better it, or raved about something someone else made for her.

Food was love in my economy.

She rejected mine.

She didn’t get it anymore.

She came bustling into the kitchen and Olivia headed to the couch to cuddle up next to her dad. Olivia liked weight on her, and those two had perfected the art of sitting together in such a way that Olivia got the compression she craved, and Zale got the cuddles he treasured.

“Mara, dear, let me get that. You guys work all week and I’ve got no responsibilities. At least let me serve you when you’re here.”

I swung around and met her wide, innocent eyes with my incredulous ones. Something cracked in her mask for a moment before it slipped back into place.

“It’s okay,” I answered drily. “I’ve got it.”

“Well! You do spoil me! I’m very grateful for both of you. Zale,” she called, “would you like your eclair in there with your coffee?”

“I’ll be right back,” I muttered.

I headed for the bathroom, the sudden wave of fury rising up my gullet threatened to spew out all over her. My breath rasped in and out rapidly and my heart pounded in my chest as the doctor’s words reverberated in my head, ‘family of origin.... borderline personality… look it up and see what you think… sad your whole life…. Do you hurt yourself? … you have moods… identity issues… I see it in your eyes… you’ve been in pain a long time…’

My hand that twisted the lock on the door of the bathroom shook, and my body vibrated with unspent emotion. Safely behind the closed door, I turned to wash my hands, needing to do something while I was in there. The rivulets of cool water running over my hands centered me. I trained my gaze on the paths the water took, the feel of the expensive soap, the scent of honey and lavender, the cold water cooling my temper.

Just keep swimming, just keep swimming…

I reminded myself I was there for Olivia.

I reminded myself that being there with Zale was easier.

I reminded myself I was going to start counselling soon and I assured myself I could hold on until then. I could be calm, not for Bea, but for Olivia. My breathing returned to normal, my body calmed. I dried my hands and went back to the kitchen where I played my mother’s game.

After an hour of small talk and letting her rail against Abby and the ‘old biddies who couldn’t do anything right if they had two right hands’, we were able to leave. It helped that Olivia was excited, wanting to make the next stop on our list of deliveries.

In the car I breathed out a sigh of relief. Olivia had her headphones on and sang away to her most recent downloads. I stared out the passenger side window as we drove away.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Zale commented.

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