Four Broken Pieces ✓

Six

It was around 20 minutes later when my mother finally noticed me standing at the landing of the staircase. She said nothing but she continued to stare at me, or more likely at my tear stained cheeks and my swollen lips. I knew that if I opened my mouth now, I'd only cry. She'd comfort me then and I'd allow myself to become her doll once more. I couldn't let that happen. Not anymore. I kept my mouth shut and my eyes drifted to that piece of paper that still lay on the coffee table. I may not be able to hate my mother, but I could hate that letter that had ruined this day. As I continued to stare at it, the sadness in my heart evaporated into an icy rage that froze my veins. Fear gave way to cool nothingness. I'd just lost the person who could've been the love of my life and my dreams had dissolved to nothingness a long time ago. There was absolutely nothing that my mother could take from me.

"Roe are you alright," my mother asked but I drowned out that voice and took deliberate steps forward. I took that dreaded letter into my hands and turned to my mother. Immediately my hatred fizzled out as I saw genuine terror flash across my mother's eyes, no doubt at the harshness of my expression. I kept my eyes locked on hers as I slowly, deliberately, ripped the letter to shreds.

"No more modeling. No more diets. No more exercise. I'm done," I said, my voice bold and strong till that last word, at which it cracked. But I'd put my message across and I knew I'd conveyed it effectively when anger entered my mother's eyes. Anger laced with desperation.

"Roe you can't just quit! We need the money for the electricity, the food, and the clothes! Are you going to let me freeze to death in the winter," she screamed, her voice rising higher and higher with every word. I didn't miss the way she'd said me. God had she always been this self-centered? How had I missed it? I steeled my voice and hardened my heart and asked her one last question. If she answered it right, I'd stay and if she didn't, then there wouldn't be anything I could do to salvage our relationship. I could leave this house with the belief that I'd done all I could. I could barely open my mouth to say the words, and I realized I did have one more thing to lose. One last thing my mother could take away from me. My belief that deep down, she still loved me. My words came out as a raspy whisper as I pushed them out of my mouth. They tasted so foul on my tongue but the question had been long since due.

"Do you love me as your daughter or as a vessel for your unfulfilled dreams," I asked softly, my eyes boring into hers as I desperately prayed that she'd choose right. It would cleave my soul in two if I knew that the one person, who was supposed to love me irrevocably, didn't.

A moment passed. Two. My mother still hadn't spoken and as the seconds ticked by, I could feel the gap between us widen, as did the gaping hole in my heart that was threatening to swallow me whole.

If she chose now, and if she chose wrong, I'd lose it right then and there. I'd fall apart right in front of her. So like the coward I was, I grabbed my jacket lying on the couch and went to the front door. I could save myself the burden of hearing those words directly from her. Just as I was about to leave, I turned back one last time. I didn't even know why. She still hadn't said anything but her hesitation, her pause, was answer enough.

"I love you. I always have and I always will," I whispered into the void between us before leaving the house, and leaving another jagged piece of my heart with it.

I'd made it all of two steps when the front door behind me burst open. She must have regained her senses. My insensible heart soared at the thought that she would choose me now. Tell me she loved me more than anything in this world. Tell me at least that she would try to love me. I would take any love she had to offer, even if it was just bits and pieces.