Heart Spoons
Stories similar to this that you might like too.
“I think I’ll take a look around the kitchen,” I said. “It’s a mess.”
My mother’s voice came from somewhere in the back of the house, but she was too far away for me to hear her. I moved through the dining room and into the kitchen, where I found my mother sitting at the table, cleaning silverware with a little brush.
She looked up at me with an expression that made me feel like I’d been caught doing something wrong.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I said. “Are you okay?”
“Of course I’m fine,” she said. “You should be going back to bed. It’s late.”
“Yes, it is,” I agreed. “But I’m worried about you. You’ve been working so hard lately and not sleeping well. I don’t want anything bad happening because you’re tired.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted. “Go back to sleep.”
I hesitated. My mother wasn’t like most mothers. She was a lot more direct than mine had been, and when she was cross, she could be pretty frightening.
“Is there anything I can do?” I asked. “I could clean your bathroom or wash some dishes.”
My mother stood up and put down the silverware. “That’s very sweet of you, dear,” she said. “But I don’t need any help. I’ll be fine. Go on back to bed.”
I sighed. “Okay.”
I left the kitchen and went upstairs. The bathroom door was closed, but I could hear water running. I opened the door and stepped inside.
The tub was full of hot water. I glanced around, looking for the drain. I found it, but instead of turning off the water, I leaned over and stuck my hand in.
I felt my fingers go numb, then go cold.
Cold water. Cold hands. Cold heart.
“I don’t think so,” I muttered.
I pulled my hand out, grabbed the sink, and turned the water off. Then I stepped out of the bathroom and climbed back into bed.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” a voice said from the hallway.
I froze.
“What are you doing?” my mother asked. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous to get too close to me when I’m like this? I can feel everything you’re feeling, and it makes me angry.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I don’t mind. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “Go back to bed.”
I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. I pulled the covers up and closed my eyes.
“I wish you’d stop doing that,” my mother said.
I looked at her. She was sitting in the hallway, still wearing the same expression.
“Doing what?” I asked.
“Making yourself so vulnerable to me,” she said. “I can feel your fear. You should be afraid of me, and yet you’re not.”
I frowned. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“You should be,” she insisted. “I am a monster.”
“A monster,” I repeated. “But you’re also my mother.”
She didn’t answer.
“Are you going to be okay?” I asked.
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “Go back to sleep.”
I lay back down. My head was pounding, and my body was exhausted. I wanted nothing more than to drift off to sleep.
But something was bothering me. It wasn’t a big thing, but it nagged at me. I couldn’t put my finger on it, though. I rolled over, closed my eyes, and tried to go back to sleep.
***
Heart Spoons
I woke up in the middle of the night, confused and disoriented. I realized I was in the middle of a nightmare. I’d been dreaming about my mother.
I’d woken up screaming.
The next thing I knew, I was awake and sitting upright in bed. I heard the sound of running water, and I saw that the bathroom door was open. The light from the hallway fell across the floor, making the water glinting in the mirror.
My mother stood there, leaning over the sink.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” she said. “You’ve made me angry.”
I stared at her. She was completely naked. Her hair was wet, and her skin glistened with water. I could see that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath her clothes.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
She turned around, looking at me. She took a step closer.
“Don’t you dare touch me,” I warned?
“You’re the one who’s being rude,” she said. “It’s bad enough that you came into my room without knocking, but then you dared to put your hands in the water.”
I reached out and grabbed her wrist. I pulled her away from the sink.
“I just wanted to make sure you were all right,” I said. “That’s why I was in here. I heard the water running and I thought you might be in trouble.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted. “Go back to bed.”
“No,” I said. “I want to know what happened. What did you do to me?”
She stared at me. Then she crossed her arms and turned away.
“I told you not to come near me,” she said. “Do you really think I would hurt you?”
“Why won’t you tell me?” I asked. “If you don’t, then I’ll keep coming in here. I’ll watch you shower, and I’ll stick my hand in the water. I’ll touch you until you’re forced to answer me.”
“You can’t do that,” she said. “I am a monster. You should be afraid of me. If you weren’t so stupid, you’d be afraid of me. I am a terrible person. I killed my own father. I killed the man who raised me. I tortured people for fun. I took lives. I gave life. I am the most horrible creature that ever lived, and yet you dare to say you aren’t afraid of me?”
“I’m not afraid of you,” I insisted. “I know you’re a monster, but I’m still your daughter. I won’t let you hurt me. I won’t let you hurt anyone else.”
“I’m not going to hurt you,” she said. “But if you keep coming into my room without permission, then I will hurt you. I am not your mother. I never was. You have no right to come into my room, and you have no right to ask me questions. It’s time for you to leave. Now get out of my sight.”
“No,” I said. “I won’t go until you tell me what you did to me. What kind of monster are you?”
She took a step toward me. “Don’t come any closer.”
“You’re hurting me,” I said. “I want to know what you’ve done to me. I won’t let you hurt me anymore.”
“You’re not listening,” she said. “I’m not going to hurt you. Go back to bed.”
“You don’t understand,” I said. “You’re making me sick. I don’t want to be like you. I don’t want to be a monster. I want to be normal. I want to be like everyone else. I want to be the daughter you wanted me to be. I want to be loved and cared for and protected. I want to be safe. I want you to protect me.”
“You’re not safe,” she said. “You’re not safe at all.”
“Why?” I demanded. “What happened to me? Why is it happening?”
She stared at me, her eyes burning with fire. She pulled away from me and turned around.
“Go back to bed,” she ordered. “Or I’ll be forced to hurt you.”
I backed up, trembling.
“Please,” I begged. “I’m begging you. Please stop.”
But she didn’t. She just stood there, staring at me. I could see that she was trying to think of something to say. She had to know I wasn’t going to go anywhere. I’d made it clear that I wouldn’t leave.
“Tell me,” I whispered. “What happened to me?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “There’s nothing I can do.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I wish I hadn’t asked. I just want to know why this is happening.”
She glared at me.
“You don’t even know why,” she said. “Do you really think I would tell you if I knew how to stop it? I told you, I am a monster. I have no power over you. I cannot control your fate.”
“But you can try,” I said. “You can try to make me forget. You can try to make me forget everything.”
“That’s not possible,” she said. “The mind is not a blank slate. It cannot be scrubbed clean of all memories. That’s impossible. You know that. Even if I tried to wipe you from my memory, I couldn’t. You are too much a part of me. If you were gone, then I would be lost. I would be alone. I would be nothing.”
“Then why did you try?” I asked. “Why do you even care what happens to me? Why did you come to see me tonight? Why are you trying to help me now?”
“You don’t understand,” she said. “It’s not that I don’t want to hurt you. I am a monster. I can’t help myself. But I can’t hurt you. I won’t let you go. I won’t let you hurt me. You are my daughter. You will always be mine.”
“No,” I said. “I’m not your daughter. I’m not yours. I never was. I am not like you. I am not a monster. I am a good person. I am a survivor. I am strong. I am brave. I am someone. I am me.”
“You’re not,” she said. “You’re nothing. You’re weak. You’re a coward. You’re broken. I’ve seen your mind. I know what you’re capable of. You can’t hide from me. You can’t run away. You can’t pretend. You can’t deny me. You don’t exist. You don’t matter. You’re nothing. You’re no one. You’re nobody. You’re not even a name. You’re just a thing. You’re nothing but a ghost. You’re nothing. You’re no one.”
“No!” I screamed. “You’re wrong! I am more than you think. I am a fighter. I am strong. I am brave. I am not afraid of you. I am not afraid of anything. I am not a monster. I am a survivor. I am a fighter.
The End