The Red
Heather walked inside and was blanketed by darkness. She couldn’t see what awaited her and would have chosen to remain in the dark given the choice.
She reached her hand inside only deep enough to find a light switch. She spread her fingers across the surface and wished her arms were a little longer.
“Go-Go Gadget Arms,” she whispered.
Her fingers finally touched a switch and she flicked it upward as she held her breath. Light filled the room, igniting every corner except for one. Heather knew that whatever awaited her waited in the corner.
A sofa sat in the middle of the room. It looked familiar but she couldn’t identify it. She started to walk toward the couch but stopped abruptly when she heard a door opening from the dark corner. Heather was shocked to see her mother step through the blackness and her heartbeat took another break
Despite the tears that ran down her cheeks, Laurie looked beautiful, as always. She was so pretty that Heather filled with pride whenever her mother came to her school. Her long blonde hair and striking features grabbed the attention of all the girls and boys in the classroom and Heather felt a sense of validation whenever she introduced Laurie as her mom.
Heather would have been happier to see her if were not for the tears and the fact that Laurie was oblivious to her daughter’s presence. Her mother brushed past her and headed for the lonely couch. Heather took comfort in Laurie’s perfume and in her strong presence and she longed to just be safe in her mother’s arms.
She wanted to embrace the woman who had given her so much more than life. She wanted to hug her tightly and extract the identity of the person who had hurt her. Heather tried to walk but realized she couldn’t take another step. As she tried to propel her body forward, a telephone rang from a small table beside the sofa.
Heather wondered if she was the only one who heard ringing but realized that both of their worlds were privy to the incoming call when Laurie lifted the receiver
“Hello?” asked her mother; the pain in her voice difficult to listen to.
Heather stood frozen she listened to her own voice pouring angrily out of a speaker system she couldn’t see. Her tone was loud and sarcastic and Heather felt the shame begin in her stomach.
“Do you think you have a right to talk to me about mothering?”
She heard the question she had asked her mother years before and remembered the argument. It had been a terrible one and Heather couldn’t believe she’d ever spoken this way to her mother. Reliving the moment from third person wasn’t nearly as satisfying as it had been in first person. The guilt was contagious and beginning to affect every inch of her.
Heather watched her mother brush away a new tear and wanted desperately to go to her but she didn’t have the power to move forward. She was unsure why she’d been stricken immobile but had a feeling she knew which room she was in. The rage simmering inside told her that her own wrath was about to unfold before her.
“Heather,” Laurie choked out between tears. “I can’t believe the things you say to me. If I ever talked to my mother like this . . .”
“Oh, you’re such a martyr, aren’t you, Mom?” Heather heard herself yell.
She cringed when she heard her already high-pitched tone climbing even higher. Her voice sounded patronizing and syrupy and mean and Heather seriously considered putting her hands over her ears to block out anymore of it.
“You’re so self-sacrificing, I know,” the past Heather continued.
Present Heather was disgusted