She - Part Four

 

         We just moved into a new house. We moved out of what we considered our hometown six years ago and were finally able to come back. That was what mattered when getting the new house; that it was in the right city. I never really gave up that we were going to come back home someday, so I never changed Michaels elementary school and we still did all our grocery shopping in the area. Either Christopher or I would make a 30-minute one way commute twice a day to drop off and then pick up Michael from school. It was important to me that I made sure Michael could stay close to his friends and teachers who knew him. We had to wake earlier, and I would get home later, but it was worth it.

There were boxes, bags and dissembled furniture scattered around the whole house. The only free space was the long hallway. Every other room had furniture and everyone’s personal items cluttered about. My Daughter Michelle stood up in her crib in the bedroom we would share. There were enough rooms in the house for her to have her own, but I always shared a room with my babies while they were still too young to walk or potty alone. It made me feel better to have them close by incase there was an emergency, or they had nightmares or kicked off their blankets at night. I was also very paranoid about SIDS. When I was a child, She had a friend whose infant died of it and I couldn’t believe that it was a real thing; that a child could just stop breathing for no reason. When I got older and had children of my own, I didn’t want to take any chances. I trained myself to wake up for the slightest noise or if they stopped breathing. There were a few times I would nudge them if I couldn’t tell if they were breathing or not. It made for many restless nights but that’s what parenting is, a lack of sleep to make sure your babies are safe.

            I sat on the floor and pulled over the next box that needed to be emptied. The box read “Chris’s toddler clothes”. I opened the box and sifted through the folded overalls and tiny button up shirts and found his little grey stuffed manatee, Barbara.

            Years ago, a religious friend of mine introduced me to Veggie Tales.  It was a cartoon about vegetables teaching children lessons about the bible and basic moral values with a few funny songs thrown in from time to time. Even though I am not Christian I didn’t mind the lessons since they were positive, and we really enjoyed the silly songs. One of the songs was called ‘Endangered Love’ and it was about a manatee named Barbara. Christopher and I would sing it all the time and when I found a little manatee at a store, I had to buy it for him. As Christopher got older he wasn’t as attached to Barbara as I would have liked, but I saved it for him just the same.

            I called to Christopher, “Chris! Come here, I found Barbara!”

            A moment later Chris came into the room and looked at Barbara and said “Cool.”

            “You wouldn’t want to hold on to Barbra would you?” I smiled while asking my 18-year-old.

            He said, “I’m good, but Michelle can have it. I know it meant allot to you.”

            I had never thought about giving it to Michelle or even Michael when he was a baby. Not that it was a bad idea, I just assumed the kids would want their own things for their children one day. I kept all my kid’s clothes and belongings from when they were babies. They each had their own labeled boxes full of trinkets to share with their families one day.

            I looked up at Michelle from the floor who was looking down at me from her crib and handed her the manatee. She took it, sat down in the crib with a loud thump and began to “leedle.” Michelle couldn’t really talk yet but would say ‘leedle leedle’ over and over.

            “Well, she seems interested in her, thanks”, I said to Christopher as he walked back down the hall.

            I stood up and dusted my hands on my jeans. I leaned on the crib close to Michelle.

            “Her name is Barbara Manatee, Baby Bear” I said introducing them to each other, “and she has her own song”. I began to sing the song and realized that I remembered all the words.

 

            The streetlight outside our house on Fender Drive flashed on. As soon as the light flickered all the kids playing in the street stopped in unison and looked up at it. Time to go home. We all said our, see you tomorrow’s, and walked unenthusiastically back to our homes for the night.

I didn’t have very far to go; the streetlight was located right outside my house on the other side of the street. I turned and walked across the front lawn to the pathway leading to the door. I liked the house; it was a white single-story house with blue trim. There was only one other house in the whole neighborhood that had blue trim. All the rest of the house were different shades of brown. It made our house stand out from all the others. Even our door was blue, and my dad would always hang blue Christmas lights each year.

There was a little garden on the side of the house going up to the front porch. It was blocked off with a little brick curb all around it. I could easily step over it but wasn’t allowed to. The plants in there were mostly different kinds of roses and you couldn’t see the dirt. The dirt was covered completely with dark red rocks that She told me was petrified cat poop. I didn’t believe her though, She just didn’t want me to touch or throw the rocks.

            I reached the door and turned the gold round handle. Walking into the house always smelled good at night. She was always cooking or baking something that smelled delicious. My dad was sitting on the couch watching TV when I came in. He didn’t look like he noticed me, so I made my way through the living room, past the kitchen nearly bumping into the large standing fish tank. I always bumped into it, it was a huge tank with five large koi swimming around. I passed the dining room and walked down the hall. My door was midway down the hall, the first on the right. The hall was dark, but I never liked the hall light on. There were too many family photos and pictures of me in fancy dresses. Those pictures would just remind me of the yelling and fighting, I hated them. No one ever acted like they wanted to take them really, but that’s what you were supposed to do, have your family dressed nice, with nice smiles so that the people who came to the house thought it was a nice and happy family. There was one exceptionally large picture of me on the wall in a frilly pink dress. Whenever I see that picture, I only remember her pulling my hair roughly to brush it and I didn’t stay still long enough so She would hit me with the brush till I cried and wouldn’t move. So there was the four year old me on the wall, larger than life in a pink flowy dress, looking down at the flower in my hands like a mourner at a funeral.

            I opened the door to my room and didn’t bother to turn on the light. I took a few steps in the dark room and kicked my shoes off at the foot of my bed. I turned around to go back into the living room and all of a sudden, I felt someone come from behind. A hand went over my face and covered my mouth firmly. Then an arm went around my chest and held my arms down and I was pulled close to a warm body. I didn’t know what was happening, I couldn’t think. The pressure around my chest and mouth was strong and getting tighter. The person started squeezing me like a snake and it was getting harder to breathe through my nose. I was frozen and scared.

            I was released and thrown to the carpet. I put my hands out to catch my fall but slipped and landed on my side and elbow. The light from the window shined slightly into the room. I looked up and focused. She was standing over me. The faded blue light from the moon creeping in from the window framed her body in its glow. On her face She twisted her features into a sneer.

            “You didn’t do anything, didn’t fight back, you didn’t scream. You just stood there like an idiot” She said, “What if I was someone trying to take you? Your stupid ass would just go along with them wouldn’t you?”

            She walked a few steps to the door.

            “You’re a fucking coward”, She said, and closed the door behind her.

            I sat up on the floor and felt humiliated. I didn’t know what to do. I was so embarrassed I just sat there in the dark. I wiped the saltiness of her hand off my mouth and knew She was crazy.

‘Normal people don’t do things like this to their kids, She has to be crazy’, I thought.

A few minutes passed and She called for me, saying to wash up for dinner. I got up from the carpet and went to the door. I opened the door slowly, I didn’t know if She would jump out again, I didn’t know what to expect. No one was in the hall when I poked my head out. I walked quietly down the hall towards the bathroom on the right and turned the light on immediately. I closed and locked the door. I checked the shower, no one in there. I looked in the mirror and it was just me. The wide-eyed girl I always see with a little sheen of sweat on her forehead, dirt around her mouth and wisps of hair that had escaped her ponytail. I turned the sink faucet on and washed my hands and face. I never used soap unless I was being watched. I didn’t like how it smelled. She bought all the soap and it smelled like lavender. One of the worst smells in the world to me. I’d rather smell like the back-yard dog poop than smell like her. I dried my face on my arm and dried my hands on my pant legs. I put my ear to the door, and I could hear dishes clinking in the next room. She must be in the dining room.

I unlocked the door and walked to the dining room where my dad sat at the table waiting to be served. The dining table base was bamboo that supported a large round glass top. I sat in one of the cushioned bamboo chairs facing my dad. His chair faced the TV. She walked to me with a plate of spaghetti in her hand and placed it in front of me on the table. The food looked normal, pasta with red meat sauce, it smelled delicious. I looked at her as She walked away. Then when She turned the corner, I caught her eye in the mirror reflection, but She didn’t say a word and didn’t pause. My dad installed mirror planks on one of the walls in the dining room. I thought it made the room look fancy and you could see into the kitchen from the reflection. She came back with her plate and sat next to me on my left side where She normally sat and started talking to my dad.

I stopped staring at her and began to eat. ‘She’s crazy, She has to be crazy and is just pretending to be normal, like nothing happened’ I thought. ‘I’ve heard of people pretending to be crazy to get out of jail, but I never thought people could pretend to be normal when they were really bat shit crazy’.

After dinner She told me to wash the dishes. I collected all the dishes and scrubbed them clean in the dirty sink water She filled up for me. When I was finished washing the dishes my dad was going outside to smoke a cigarette.

“Hey”, She said, “There is something for you in your room. Go check it out”.

My heart sank and my breathing quickened. ‘Why can’t She just leave me alone?’ I thought.

I walked out of the kitchen and looked down the dark hall to where my room is. I looked at her and didn’t move a muscle. I was nervous and didn’t know what to expect. I glanced at the front door that my dad just walked out of.

“I said there is something for you in your room Meg, go to your room” She said more firmly.

I walked to the edge of the hall and reached for the light switch. She stood on the other side of the couch in the living room with her arms crossed tight in front of her watching me. The couch and fish tank stood between us.

“I don’t think so”, She said.

My hand dropped to my side and I very slowly began to walk to my bedroom. About halfway to my room I looked behind me and She was at the edge of the hall.

“Go on” She smiled.

‘What is She going to do to me’ I thought, ‘What’s in there?’

I reached my bedroom entry way and lifted my hand to turn on the light.

“Nope” She said. She was right behind me now.

I didn’t want to go in, I didn’t want to move, I didn’t want to breathe. I held my breath and listened to the blood pump in my ears. I just wanted her to pay attention to someone else and leave me alone. I could feel the warmth of her body right behind me.

I took a step in my room, to get some space away from her, everything was dark. My eyes were already adjusted to the dark so as I took another step in the room and tried to scan every inch of the darkness to see what was there.

‘She must have hid something, or planned something scary’ I thought, ‘If I can just see it before it jumps on me then I won’t scream. I know that’s what She wants. She wants to see me cry and hear me scream so She can call me names.’

She gave me a quick shove and pushed me further into the room. I stumbled but kept my balance but exhaled sharply.

“Anything look different to you Meg?” She asked.

I looked so hard at everything and turned in circles in the center of the room trying to find whatever She did.

“I can’t find anything’ I whimpered.

“Oh boo fucking hoo, are you scared? Is the poor little shit scared of the dark? You are so fucking pathetic” She said.

I turned to my bed and was just going to sit down on the floor when I saw it. One of my favorite commercials was the Snuggles dryer sheet commercial, and there he sat, Snuggle himself. I looked at her in disbelief.

“Didn’t realize you were going to be such a fucking baby about it” She said. She grabbed the door handle and began to close the door to leave. Right before She closed the door She said, “Coward” and slammed the door closed.

I walked over to my bed and reached for Snuggle. I held him in my arms and squeezed him as hard as I could. I turned and sat on my bed and just held him. I buried my face in the softness of his fluffy fur and cried. I muffled my crying with Snuggle until the cotton he was covered in was warm and damp. I was so scared and so relived at the same time.

‘Why did She always have to do things like this?’ I thought.

            “I hate my life and I hate it here,” I said to Snuggle “You’re going to hate it here too.”

           

I was eight years old the first time I thought about killing myself. I shook the memory from my head. ‘Why is this happening,’ I thought.

            The tears were trailing down my face and I had to stop Barbara’s song and go the bathroom. I grabbed some tissue and blew my nose. I looked in the mirror and thought ‘get over it Megan, that shit was years ago, you’re a better mother than She ever was, let it go’.

But the pain felt like it happened a moment ago and I was so sad to be a mother now, remembering the horrible things that happened to that child, even though the child was me. It felt like my heart was breaking. I knew that these things already happened and there was no way I could save her now. I just had to keep being better and keep choosing to be better.

            I turned the sink faucet on and splashed my face with cool water. I cried and coughed in the cold water and just kept splashing. When I caught my breath, I turned the faucet off and reached for a hand towel. After drying my face, I deliberately did not look in the mirror and returned to the bedroom where Michelle played with Barbara.

            “Sorry Baby Bear, let’s take this from the top”, I said clearing my throat and began singing Barbara Manatee’s song.

            Michelle loved Barbara and her song so much that everyone in the household learned the song and would sing it to her before she went to sleep, during walks, and for no reason at all but to see Michelle recognize the song and begin to move her head to the music.