The Story Of Us(Original)

3

Amy Tan said, "A mother is the one who fills your heart in the first place." Which is why I'll never be a mother.

Before Kellen, my life was routine. Monday, I had Piano lessons. Tuesday, Calligraphy. Wednesday, basketball practice. Thursday, dance. Friday, therapy and on Saturday I was to read an entire novel before I was allowed to hang out. Sunday, we brunched.

It was a Saturday when Colleen called for me somewhere in our Manhattan condo. I pressed my lips together. I wasn't expecting her home, slacking off and watching videos of my friends exciting Friday nights.

I stood to my feet, quickly rushing from the room. After we were reunited, I learned quickly when Colleen Idris-Almanzar called for you, she didn't want to do it twice.

I found her at her breakfast nook, wearing her Doctor's coat, drinking coffee and reading something on her phone. My mother is a beautiful woman. She was thirty-two at the time with smooth chocolate skin, perfect cheekbones, and intelligent downturn almond-shaped eyes much like my own.

My anxiety in human form.

"Yes mother?"

"What are you wearing?" Colleen mumbled.

Boyfriend jeans and my school sweatshirt. I was a tomboy before Kellen, taking fashion cues from Colleen and my friends to please him.

"Wrenner is having company," I said, and for all I knew it could have been true.

Though she encouraged me to be a lady, Colleen never wanted me to do or wear anything that caught the attention of men. For a time I thought it had a lot to do with Cal.

She rarely spoke about him; learning about their relationship from her advocacy speeches and sparse interviews. My mother is an inspiration and I was her burden.

"Did you take your pills?" Colleen questioned.

I had tried to kill myself once. Those close to me and my therapist will disagree with that body count but it was only once. I was eleven, away at boarding school at the time when I messed up real bad.

I wanted control. I wanted to do it before Colleen did. The pain from that experience turned me off from the idea but now and then while I wait to cross the street at a busy road I think, what if I just... walk. I won't though, I'm suicidal but I'm afraid to die.

I was misdiagnosed with Bipolar 2 and given mood stabilizers. They made me feel hollow. Like the world lost color and I couldn't remember a life before the sea of grey. I wouldn't have the error corrected to a borderline personality disorder for years to come.

"Yes mother," I waited to see if that was all.

"Your father and I—" she began.

"He's not my father," I reminded her, still unwilling to let any man take the place of Cal.

"Where do you live?" Colleen asked, not bothering to look at me.

"What?" I replied.

"Don't what, answer," she said, growing impatient.

"Chel—" I began.

Colleen's face turned sour. "You live in my husband's house," she interjected. "Now, who pays for your education?" she went on.

"You do?" I answered.

"I do?" Colleen queried.

"You do, mam...?" I corrected.

"Don't answer a question with a question, Rue. Now, let's try this again because I know the stupidest thing that has ever been in my vagina is your father," she snarled. "Your therapy. The clothes on your back. The food you guzzle into your fat mouth. I'm putting you on another diet by the way, your ass is too large for your age," she told me, despite the fact I was only four pounds overweight. "Your phone, your toys, your whole life is courtesy of whom?" my mother glared at me intensely.