I see myself smiling up at my mother. My body feels much smaller than it is now. I take a moment to look down at myself. My childlike anatomy hidden underneath my bright yellow swimsuit. My mother wears a matching one, her skin looking golden underneath the warm hues. I hear the sound of the waves as they crash against the ocean shore, the smell of salt filtering in through my nose. We had only gone to the beach a small handful of times in my early years. They were the most pleasant times; our way of escaping.
I watch as my small fingers interlace with hers. The feeling of safety coats me as she looks down at me. Her blue eyes thatmirror mine squint as she smiles at me. I can hear her soft voice beckon me to follow her as she turns back towards the water.
Together we run down the wet sand, leaving footprints in our wake. My small laugh flows into the salty air around us as mama picks me up to avoid a big wave. The water tickles at my toes before she sets me back down into the sand. She beams down at me with so much happiness.
“I love you, SuperNova.” Her voice fills my ears as she sings out her favorite nickname for me. I smile up at her, knowing that my facial expression conveys just how much I love her too. How much I forgive her. That I know it wasn’t her fault.This was her first time living too.She pulls me up into her arms, and I let my chubby cheek nuzzle into her freckle covered shoulder. All of a sudden, I’m exhausted. I can only imagine how much energy playing at the beach all day with mama took out of me. Her warm hands stay wrapped around me as my eyelids begin to grow heavy. I fight to keep them open, to stay in this glimpse of joy.To stay with mama.
The memory begins to grow hazy as the younger version of me begins to close her eyes, losing her battle to stay awake. As her eyes shut, mine begin to focus on the ceiling above me once more. More colorful shapes fill my vision as my body begins to let go. The airy feeling of floating overtakes me, and I can no longer feel the fabric of my comforter below me. I let myself get carried away. Higher and higher until the voices quiet. Until the pain is gone.
Play Youth by Daughter
The cheap faux leather of the passenger seat rubs against my neck. It's irritating me beyond belief but we still have two more hours left of the drive. There would be no use in complaining. I did this to myself.Stupid girl. You can’t even kill yourself.
“You’re going to love Boston,” Mom smiles at me, letting her eyes dart away from the road in front of her. “It’s not too far from Melrose, as you know. And now you’re old enough to actually go into the city.” Her freckles conjoin as she scrunches her nose up at me, and I can’t help the smile that plays at the corner of my lips. For the majority of my life, my mother was my entire world. She fed me, raised me, and kept me safe. It wasn’t until later on that my resentment for her began to fester. Like a boil, right underneath the first few layers of skin, just waiting to burst. As the years went on, the wound grew larger, deadlier. Eventually it burst. Left in its absence was a gaping hole, unable to be healed. Instead it scarred over when I left home. When I finally got to escape.
I feel the happiness dim as I break our eye contact and nod myhead back to the road. “I’m sure I will, Mom,” I finally respond when her shoulders slump and her gaze returns to the street in front of us.
Guilt overtakes me as I sit next to her in the beat up Montero that she’s driven since before I was born. The logical part of me reminds me that it takes a woman, on average, seven times before they successfully leave an abusive relationship. But that sweet little girl with sun bleached pigtails, who was filled to the brim with love, tugs at my heart, begging me to protect her from the mommy who didn't love her enough to leave.
We continue the drive in silence, taking turns occasionally sipping from the sodas we got at the gas station. After an hour, mom finally caves and turns on the radio. An older tune filters through the static and I’ve never been so grateful for a distraction. We have yet to talk about what happened since she picked me up from the hospital. She had burst into the hospital room, rushing to hug me and doing her best to not get tangled in the wires surrounding me. My body ached as the doctors tried to reverse the serotonin syndrome. She had held me in her arms until the tears had finally dried. Once she could finally speak, she spent hours telling me about how much she loved me, and that she wouldn’t know what to do without me.If she loved you, she would’ve saved you,my inner critic whispers.
I shake my head, begging the voice to quiet down. Just one day of rest is all I ask. One day where I’m not at war with myself. I rest my head back against the seat of the car and close my eyes. The cool air from the open window dances across my skin and I soak it in, knowing the summer heat is bound to appear any day now. The reminder that it’s coming makes my skin crawl. I can’t stand the heat. It makes life so much more uncomfortable than it already is. A frown tugs at my mouth as I open my eyes again. Just in time to see the sign come into view.
Rosegate Trailer Park.
My childhood home waits for me at the back of the lots, reflecting the summer sunshine off its dusty windows, and decorating the dried grass below it with its peeling brown paint. We slowly drive down the cracked, paved road. Mom has always been careful about the speed limit here. You never know who’s child, dog, or drunken family member might stumble out onto the path.
I pull my bottom lip in between my teeth as we finally come to a stopping point in front of the trailer. It’s exactly how I remembered it. Curtains hang in the front windows, stained by cigarette smoke. The off white of the fabric almost perfectly matches the paint that coats the sidings. An old white screen door swings open from the push of the soft breeze.Nothing has changed,I think to myself as I slam the car door behind me. My heart rate picks up as I take my first few steps towards the trailer. It’s been years since I left, since I swore I would never return.
I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding as my mother’s hand slides into mine. I look over to her as she squeezes my palm in hers. “Welcome home, Nova.”
She strides up the slanted concrete sidewalk, pulling me along behind her. Once we hit the stairs up to the front, she lets me go before padding her way up to the entrance. “Abe!” She hollers into the house, a smile still stretching from cheek to cheek. “Our baby’s home!”
My heart skips a beat as I wait to hear his voice. It’s been three years since I’ve seen him and the imagery of him throwing my things onto the lawn the night I left still haunts my memory.
“You’re supposed to care about your family, Nova!”
I wince, reliving the moment I finally escaped. It was all worth nothing, I’m still here. Still trapped in this nightmare. Right back into the depths of it all.
“My my my, look at you,” Dad’s voice breaks through my vision. “All grown up!” His once dark brown hair has become pepper and salt since I last saw him. Some things are bound to never change though, like the way his beer gut dips slightly below his aged white tank top. His hand runs through his beard as he smiles over to me from the porch. “Come give your dad a hug.”
I pull my bag up from the ground, flipping it over my shoulder as I make my way to the front door. “There’s mybaby girl!” His hands tug at my empty wrist, pulling me into him. “It’s nice to have you home.” I brace myself for the smell of bourbon and when it never comes I let out a sigh of relief.
“Thank you,” I softly state as I pull back from him. Mom holds the door open wider, ushering us in and out of the beating sun. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the dim lighting inside, but once I do, a bitter pill of nostalgia is shoved down my throat. Everything looks exactly how I remember it. The old leather couch, torn to shreds on one corner from the old family dog. The box TV in the corner with a stack of DVDs piled high next to it. Even down to the little details like the collage of family photos tacked to the wall, and the old amber ashtray set on top of the oak coffee table.Nothing has fucking changed.
The smell of incense and cigarettes mix together as they flood into my nostrils. “Your room is ready for you, if you want to go get situated. I’ve got everything to make your favorite for dinner when you’re done.” I turn to look at my Mom. She waltzes her way into the kitchen, bringing light into each step she places. Her eyes scrunch with her smile, causing my heart to constrict.The love she holds is too strong for her own good.
I turn the opposite direction and take my first step towards the small hallway when large fingers press into the small of my back. “I’m really glad you’re home.” His voice slides down my neck.
“Me too, dad.” I give him a light smile. It’s been so long, I can barely remember the moments of kindness he shared with me. He was always as bright as my mom until the liquor hit his lips. But whenever the dark moments of your life cloud your thoughts, it's hard to remember when the sun shined.
I shuffle my way down the dark hall. The linoleum tiles underneath me squeak with each step. I gaze down at them, remembering when mom begged dad to put them in.
“It’ll be so much easier to wipe up all of SuperNova’s messes!”She had laughed as she tugged him down the aisle, leaving the younger me in the cart. I had watched them with a cheesy smile on my face that entire day. Both so utterly in love with one another, trying to child proof their home. The happiness within her had always burned so brightly, but watching it get slowly beaten out of her for a decade was too much to bear.I had to leave, and I had tried so hard to get her to come with me. I had begged her for weeks before I left. It wasn’t enough.I was never enough.
By the time I reach the end of the short hallway I’m so lost in my thoughts, I hardly notice the cracked wood around the hinges of my door. I drop my bag next to my feet before leaning down to inspect it better. My fingers trail across the crevice, trying to recall if that had been there when I left. A small splinter of wood pecks against my fingertip as I reach the end of the line. It digs into me, leaving a small droplet of blood in its absence. “Fuck,” I mutter out, popping the finger in my mouth to lick at my wound. Without giving it a second thought I pull myself back up onto my feet and push the door open.
Play Tough Luck by Nothing,nowhere
