I thought I was going into the Cafe-On-Mainstreet for post-infernal coffee. Instead I walked onto a stage where the set was up and waiting. The set was supposed to represent a bedroom, the kitchen, the living room, and the front stoop of my mother’s house. My mother and my half-sister were sitting at the table in the kitchen, waiting for me to arrive on set.
My half-sister spoke as she normally does and my mother spoke as she normally does. But hidden behind the set was a chorus. And after each line my half-sister or my mother spoke, the chorus would speak either what they were really thinking, or the motivation behind their words.
“Why can’t you be more like your sister! She’s a successful woman!” I need you to live a life I wanted for myself so I can live vicariously through you! Justify my neglect of you by surviving!
The two women acted as if they did not hear the chorus. I decided to go along with the ruse as well.
“She’s spoiled, Ma. She doesn’t know how to be an adult!” You stayed home with her but didn’t stay home with me! I never knew you when I needed you most!
Oh boy. This is going to be an interesting production.
“Where are you going, Keri? I need you to stay home and…” I need to know everything you are doing because I need to be in control of you always. Or I risk you setting me aside. I want you to keep me over you.
“I told you yesterday, I have things scheduled for today that can’t wait. And all that stuff on your list was already done.” I braced for my own chorus. None spoke.
“Well, I didn’t see it, so it didn’t happen. You need to…” I can’t allow myself to see you as a rational person. My lust for control over you means I can’t see you with independent thought. I have to see you as utterly dependent on me and unable to function without me.
So it went for the rest of the production. The chorus showed me some of their behaviors in a different light, from a different perspective. Mainly, how my independence from my mother is terrifying to her. She has built up her identify as a mother/caregiver and is unable to let that identity go. She needs someone to dote on. She needs someone to nurture. But she also needs her own identity. And she craves attention. So she’ll do anything to get that attention. Including being the Queen of Bitches. Any attention is good attention to her, as long as she is the Center of Attention.
Because she is terrified that if she isn’t the Center of Attention, she’ll be thrown away and discarded.
I understood a lot of her motivations during that production. Hers, and my half-sister’s. There are a lot of abandonment issues going on here. But I have no sympathy for them. Not now. Not when they broke me to make themselves feel better. Not when they both poisoned all connections with the rest of the family while keeping me isolated from them, to the point where the rest of the family actually thinks I attempted to poison my mother with arsenic.
“I’m old, and will be dying soon. You and your sister must put away this childish rivalry and become one. You and her are family!” I’m being forced to see the outcome of my manipulations and actions. I’m not getting the perfect ending I wanted. I’m going to ignore my part in the feud between you two and place the burden of fixing everything on you alone, even though I know the only way for you to fix everything is to abandon everything you ever wanted for yourself and submit yourself to her.
“She told me to my face, that because I’m only half-black, I’m not worthy to be called family. And I’m supposed to apologize for that? I’m supposed to grovel and beg forgiveness because you carried me to term in a successful attempt to keep my father from divorcing you? You have resented me from the day I was born because I wasn’t what you wanted. She has resented me from the day I was born because she wasn’t the center of your attention anymore. Fuck her. She is no kin to me.”
“But… family?” But… my ideals and my wants and my personal desires that you must conform to!
“Family? Or slavery? Better a destitute free woman, than a beaten slave.”
I turned to the audience. Bright lights flared in my face preventing me from seeing anyone past the edge of the stage. “I see. I have long suspected this as the motives behind their actions. To see it and hear it in live action is illuminating. But I am now at a point where further deconstruction and analysis of their faults would be self-defeating to my purposes. I’m not going to try and fix them. They have chosen their lives and chosen their responses and chosen the lies they tell themselves to justify their evils. But evil is evil. And abuse is abuse. They are a sad story, yes. But they are not my story. I am done on their stage. I must become the lead role in my own play.”
There is only silence for a reply.
I take a deep and formal bow. I turn to Stage Left. I stride away from the scene behind me.
“Keri.” I hear my mother softly call my name. The chorus completes the thought she can’t bear to speak. I need you. You are the only one that treats me like a person now. I’ve chased [Dter] emotionally away. Your father only remains married to me to punish me. [Your half-sister] doesn’t call anymore because she has found another source of money to siphon. My sisters don’t call me anymore. My social circles are filled with sharks, waiting for me to make a mistake. You are the only one that treats me with anything close to dignity. Don’t leave me. I need you. I need you here. You can’t leave me. Don’t go!
I turned to look at them. My half-sister was rummaging through our mother’s purse. Mom had abandoned the table and was running to me. She grabbed my arm and with desperate face clung tightly.
“Do you remember what you said to me? How your life would have been so much easier without me? Be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.” I wrenched my arm away and left the stage.
Descending the stairs brought me to wakefulness.
I have issues to sort out.