Lesson 5

The air grew heavier as the day passed into evening, a crack of thunder shattered the sky, jarring me from my reverie. I sat in the old sitting room, which had hardly changed in the ten years since I finally broke free of this place. But now, here I was again, the old feelings of worthlessness creeping over my shoulder. It had been a mistake. But Dad had pleaded with me; she was old, frail, dying.
A clattering of glasses announced her return from the kitchen. She looked worn by time, wrung dry, like the life had gone out of her soul. But her eyes burned as she looked at me. She set down the tray of iced tea and glasses.
“There, Mary-Anne,” she said as she sat down, placing her leathery fingers in her lap. “Would you be a dear and pour for me? My wrists aren’t what they used to be.”
“Of course, Momma.” I poured her a glass, then settled back into an awkward silence only broken by the patter of heavy raindrops on the sash window.
“Why did you leave?” Her question broke the calm between us.
“Because I had to, I had no choice.” I look down at my own hands, soft, manicured with a single ringed finger.
“Because you had to,” she spat the words, mocking me, “You ran out on us! On your church. Ran to a life of sin!”
“Momma, I didn’t come here to fight. I came….” She cut me off before I could explain.
“You came here to see me suffer, to see what you could get.” She stabbed the air between us with a stick-like arm. “You’ll get nothing from me when I’m gone, you hear. You and that demon you married, if you can call what you have married. Living in mortal sin, out of the church, harlot!”
“Joe’s a good man, you hear. You can stick that evil church of yours. You think a God would give rise to someone as bitter and twisted as you?” The words shot out of my mouth before I had time to think of them.
“Blasphemy! You take the Lord’s name in vain in my house!” Her face contorted. “You go, get out. Back to your life of evil, of sin.” Her whole body shook. A part of me wished she would die right there.
“It was a mistake, coming here,” I stood up with all the dignity I could muster. “You are still the same person you ever were. My life only began when I escaped this place, escaped you. You were never a mother, only a torturer. Goodbye, Momma.”
I turned to leave as a flash of lightning threw the room into sharp relief. Her insults rang in my ears as I stepped out of the house for good and into the calm of the raging storm.