Metamorphosis

Chapter 2: Home again? Oh boy...

As we walked, I glanced at him; who was this guy, and why was he helping me? He seemed to be leading me down a familiar road, and once we turned a corner, I knew exactly where we were. The many wind chimes the neighbors had next door gave me a clue.

He ended up taking me to my mother's house, which then I started to freak out because how in the world would he know I used to live here?! I immediately stopped in my tracks.

"Okay, what's going on? Are you stalking me?"

  He turned to me, "This is the place you used to live, am I right?"

"Yes-I mean no!" Since my mother kicked me out, I have not been here since my mother told me I was just a burden on her relationship with Patrick, my stupid stepfather. So I call him another name in which father is replaced with the F word.

"You need somewhere to stay; I'm assuming your other accommodations are now invalid?"

This man spoke was different; he had a slight accent to which I could not pinpoint the country. I had no idea what to think of this man; he protected me from Brad and brought me back somewhere safe? (Well...half safe, mentally) but Jesus, this was more than I got on most of my dates, maybe a smack on the ass and 'See you later, Baby' I cringed at that last one...

"You should knock on the door, love; they will let you in."

"Why are you doing this? A stranger doesn't do all this, so what's your excuse?" I asked, crossing my arms.

 He smiled once more, then said," I'm a sucker for a damsel in distress?" 

I snort in response.

 Did I snort laughter? Did I look that helpless? I rolled my eyes, then looked to my old home. The peeling baby blue paint was nostalgic; I took a deep breath before walking in the front gate; a hand gently touched my shoulder; I stopped and turned to the man," Sleep well, Dove."

 As he said my name, I felt a tingle up my spine, which made my head explode in fireworks; it felt like that first warm sip of coffee in the morning...

 He gave me a wink, then walked away. I was dumbfounded; this had never happened to me; maybe I was lucky this time? Who knew years of lousy luck offers you a freebie? I walked up to the same ugly grey door and knocked, knowing who would answer. I first heard the heavy footsteps; the door swung open. A tall man with a slight beer belly and a 5'oclock shadow answered the door.

 "Ah hell, what are you doing back here?" Patrick asked as he blew his cigarette smoke in my face. "What do you think this is? A hotel?"

"Hey, baby, who's at the door?" My mother's footsteps came down the staircase in her fluffy blue robe. I managed a meek smile and waved.

"Hi, Mom."

 As she let me in, the smell of cigarettes and stale cold air reminded me of why I hated this place so much. She put up family pictures on her walls as if we were still one whole family. 

"So, what happened? Did that nice boy Brad decide you were not his type? Oh, honey, it's okay," she said with a pouty face and hugged me. Ugh, vomit, she acted as if I failed in relationships, and the guy was never the problem; I was.

 "Well, we don't have your bedroom anymore because we rented it out to help with rent, but you can take the couch," she said as she pranced upstairs, Patrick sat on the couch, leering at me.

 "What?" 

 "You got some nerve coming back here." He said as he put his cigarette out on my mother's coffee table. Not the ashtray that was right in front of him...but the freaking COFFEE TABLE. "Your mother is just getting better; she doesn't need you here with all of your shit."

 I scoffed, "Excuse me? All of MY s**t?!" I wanted to strangle him, I got in his face, "She kicked me out because you made her worse! She chose you over her daughter!" I tried not to let my voice get too loud, but being back in this house brought up things I wanted to be buried...

 "She's fine; she doesn't need those medications. It's just poison."

 "Are you kidding me?" I looked around the house, and if I did not see it before, I saw it now. Dishes piled up in the sink and the living room decorated with piles of mail; my mother ran down the stairs, pulling her kinky hair coils up in a tight ponytail that raised her eyebrow; then, she went into the kitchen and started to clean excessively. I glared at Patrick; he wanted her this way; he could control her like this, and I hated that my mother listened to him more than me.

 "See? She's fine; go help her clean since you don't have a job." My fists curled up; he was about to lose the last tooth he had...

 "How long?" I asked; Patrick looked at me like I was the crazy one. 

"Would you stop all that worrying? She's only been down a month or two," he went into the kitchen to get another beer, he slapped my mom's ass as he came back. I wanted to throw up; this place made my skin crawl, but I had nowhere else to go unless I wanted to sleep on the streets, and that sure was not happening...

 So, I put on my big girl pants and toughed it out, I could stay for a night, but after that, I would rather stay in a hotel with what money I had left. As I walked into the kitchen, I could see the sunflowers on the window seal my mother permanently fawns over. They were drooping; it looked like they had melted in the heat; I looked at my mother, who was hyper-focused on her scrubbing and cleaning. 

"I'm sorry things didn't work out with Brad, but that's life, got to move on, you know?" I bit the inside of my cheek, trying not to say anything about Brad's verbal abuse or that he had taken advantage of me in other ways...

 "You need help?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

 "Oh no, I'll get this done in no time; you can grab your old sheets and stuff upstairs for the couch."

 "Okay." I said as I started to walk away, but I slightly turned back to her, "Hey mom, are you okay?"

 She looked at me like nothing in the world could hurt her, but I knew all too well that it would; her world would come crashing down; it was just a matter of time. 

"Of course! Are you kidding? I feel great! I might start painting again!" She said with a beaming smile; I swallowed the lump in my throat, I felt a twinge in my stomach as I walked away. I hated seeing her this way, but I had to think of myself and my sanity; I could not help her because it would ultimately damage me. 

As I went into my old room, I grabbed my old fluffy pink blanket and soft white pillow. (My obsession with smooth things was never-ending.) A glint caught my eye just as I was about to head downstairs, right next to my mother's room, her painting room. I peeked inside; the lights were turned on as if someone had been in here and had not turned them off. All around the room were mom's paintings. She liked to draw crazy things that did not make sense to anyone but herself; they were beautiful. She used contrasting colors and painted faces that showed such genuine emotion. It was like someone plastered their face on it when they were at the peak of a feeling. 

 I could not remember when she was stable enough to be the mother I needed. If anything, I turned into the mother, taking care of her until Patrick came along. I could feel the sting in the back of my eyes; being in this place made me want to cry, not for me as an adult right now, but the child I never got to be...

I missed out on the simple things, like good home-cooked meals and mother-daughter talks, you know, the ones about menstrual cycles or how to properly do my hair in braids, not just a giant puffball on my head (Thank god for YouTube.) So instead, I learned on my own or from my friend's parents, I envied having such a caring and compassionate mother.

As I looked around the room, I found the glint that attracted me to this room, in a small brown chest, the corner of a golden lined paper stuck out. I got on my knees and slowly slipped it out. It looked old with fancy handwriting, Definity, not my mom's.

`Whoever finds this, know that-.`

"Dove, get down here and make your damn bed already!" Patrick shouted; I sighed out of frustration. I wanted to read the rest of the note, so I later placed it in my pocket to read. As I came back downstairs, I could hear my mom moving things in the kitchen; I put my stuff on the couch then went in to see her.

"Mom?" 

She was taking all the dishes out of the cabinets. "I've decided to get a whole new plate set; this one is just too old and dirty."

I stared at her, "That's why you clean them..." I said as I looked at the plates on the table. 

"Oh no, new plates will be so much better!" She pushed past me into the living room. "Patrick! Could you take me to Ross? I need new dishes!" She ordered as she grabbed her purse. "Hurry, they are going to close!"

'Oh, here we go...' I thought to myself as I went to set up my "comfy" bed. 

"Alright, Alright, woman!" Patrick grabbed his keys, and before leaving, he looked over at me and pointed," Hey, don't think about stealing money or anything." 

I leered at him, "Bite me, Pate." He hated when I used his name like that, but I could care less; he thought I would steal something from my mother's house?! He had some nerve; Patrick walked out, slamming the door behind him. I sighed in relief now that they were gone. I turned on the TV and watched my favorite show, I Love Lucy, it reminded me of simpler times, and it comforted me and made me smile. I fell asleep to the audience's background laughter but in the back of my mind lingered at the thought.

"Who was that strange man?"