Always and Forever (3 page)

I can hear mum downstairs tidying up in the kitchen. It’s
now eleven o’clock and I know that it’s way past her bedtime. She must be
exhausted; she was preparing his meal for hours before he arrived home. I
wonder why he came home early tonight, it’s not like him, maybe he come home
especially to tell me the news about his planned vacation. I groan, turning
over onto my side so I can face the window. I can’t think about that right now,
I’ll make myself ill with dread and worry.

During my final moments of consciousness, right before I
fall asleep I whisper a silent prayer. It’s the same prayer that I’ve made
every single night for as long as I can remember. I pray for an escape, for
freedom. I pray for a way out and to find the courage and the opportunity to
break free and to leave all this behind. I plead for the one thing I’ve never
had and yet desire the most… to be happy. Every night I pray for what could be.
My prayer has not yet been answered but I’ll continue to patiently wait for the
day that it will be and when that happens… I’ll be ready.

I know that some people would say I’m spoilt and
unappreciative of being the sole recipient of a father’s overprotective love
and devotion. I know that there are many who don’t even have a father. I know
that some people are abused or ignored by their parents and as selfish as I
might seem by admitting this, I don’t care.

 I would much rather be ignored and overlooked by him
than this. I would sacrifice every scrap of affection that he has for me and
throw it back in his face. Every. Single. Time.

As a child I quickly figured out that his treatment of me
wasn’t normal. I used to worry about how it must have made my mum feel. He
treated her with such disregard and contempt whilst his love for me didn’t
falter. I didn’t understand it and I still don’t but I’ve finally reached a
place where I don’t blame myself for his mistreatment of my mum. I realised a
long time ago that it’s not my fault.

I used to live in fear that
one day she’d turn around and blame me, that she’d point the finger and grow
resentful of my father’s favouritism. Thankfully, that day never arrived. I’d
trade places with her if I could, I’d give anything for her life to be just a
tiny bit better and over the years this has helped me live with the guilt.

The first sensation I experience this morning is dread.
There’s a hollow and empty hole inside of me and I no longer know how I can
fill it. I realise that no matter how I try to manipulate the situation this
vacation is going to happen. I’ve learnt how to pick my battles (not that I win
many when it comes to my father) and this is an unfortunate occasion where I
know that I have no chance of winning.

 I wake up to a silent
house. Today is Saturday so I know he’ll already have left for work. Everyday
he opens the bookstore bright and early, especially on Saturday’s when it’s his
busiest day. However, when I say busy I mean that he might serve five customers
instead of his usual three. It’s safe to say that business is bad.

I yawn and stretch before forcing myself from my bed.
Knowing that me and mum have the house to ourselves this morning is a luxury
that I never get tired of. Mum usually does the housework on a Saturday morning
but once her chores are complete we usually make our weekly visit to see gran.
I’ve always been close to my grandmother but our shared resentment and dislike
over my father has certainly solidified our friendship over the years. She’s
the only person who knows how I truly feel about him.

I cross the hall into the bathroom and turn on the shower.
I decide to spend longer in there today seeing as I know nobody will be banging
on the door telling me to hurry up. I close my eyes and relax under the steady
stream of hot water, appreciating every single moment that I have to myself.

After my shower I quickly dress and make my way downstairs,
the house feels so peaceful when he’s not here, even mum relaxes a little. I
notice it in her mannerisms and the tension that seems to subside when he’s not
around.

“Morning, Mum. Did you sleep well?” I ask her cheerfully as
I enter the kitchen.

She startles at the sound of my voice, dropping one of the
wet plates she was in the middle of washing.

“I did, thank you, how about you?” She asks, visibly
relaxing when she realises that it’s only me.

I know she’s lying. The dark circles underneath her eyes
give away the fact that she’s not sleeping properly. Not that I blame her, I
can’t even begin to contemplate the horror she must feel having to sleep next
to him.

“I had a good rest.” I lie.

“I’m glad.” She says quietly, turning away from me to get
on with washing the dishes.

“What time do you want to go and see gran?” I flick the
kettle on and lean against the kitchen counter, observing her closely for any
signs that my father did more than argue with her last night. I didn’t hear him
return home but that doesn’t mean he didn’t give her a hard time when he got
back.

“Well, I thought we could have some breakfast together and
then make our way there after that. Is that ok with you?”

“That sounds perfect.” I say happily, no longer embarrassed
to admit that Saturday mornings are my favourite time of the week. I’d visit
gran everyday if I could.

We eat in companionable
silence and I offer to clean up whilst she gets ready. She protests at first
but when I refuse to give in she reluctantly complies and goes upstairs.

The short walk to gran’s is also pleasant. The weather
isn’t too cold for this time of year and the warmth of the sun is shining down
on us. The leaves crunch underneath our feet and I know it won’t be long until
the harsh, relentless cold of winter will descend upon us so I try to enjoy the
last bit of nice weather we’re getting whilst I can.

We arrive at gran’s house just a few minutes later and wait
a few moments before she answers the door. She opens it with a big smile on her
face for both of us. She might be in her eighties but I still find her
beautiful and the pictures of her when she was younger are proof that she was
absolutely stunning in her youth. Unfortunately, I look nothing like she did.

“Sorry I took a while to answer, I was out in the garden.”
She beams at me with a smile that’s so bright and welcoming it’s contagious.
She opens her arms out for me and I hurry into her embrace, enjoying the warmth
of being greeted so affectionately. Her arms are frail and thin but there’s
still such strength in her hug as she squeezes me tight.

“I’ve missed you, Gran.” I whisper softly so only she can
hear.

“You too, sweetheart. You get more and more beautiful every
time I see you.” She whispers back.

We frequently have our private little conversations like
this and I sometimes worry that our shared closeness will cause mum to feel
left out or unwanted.

I’ve never once believed that I’m beautiful. I’m actually
certain that I’m not. My skin’s so fair it’s practically alabaster and I have a
dull shade of brown hair; the only thing I do like about myself is my green
eyes. My hair always looks a mess because I can’t do anything with it. I don’t
own a pair of straighteners and I only get it trimmed at the hairdressers
occasionally so it’s quite long. I’m ordinary and insignificant, certainly
nothing special but I don’t like to rebuff gran’s compliments and so I choose
to say nothing.

We’re quickly ushered into the house and I make my way into
the living room whilst mum hastily scuttles off into the kitchen to make us all
a cup of tea.

“So, how are you?” I ask, sitting down at the foot of her
old arm chair, knowing that she’ll be sitting there. I want to be as close to
her as I can.

“I’m fine but what about you? I want to know everything
that’s going on inside that head of yours. Tell me how you are.”

I chuckle, wondering what on earth she thinks I have to
tell her seeing as nothing and I mean absolutely nothing ever happens in my
life. I look up into her watery blue eyes that still shine with laughter and
mischief. They’re the same colour as my mum’s but look completely different. My
mum’s are now lifeless and empty whereas my gran’s are always sparkling and happy.
Her name is Rose and she’s certainly as beautiful as one, especially in her
youth.

“I’m alright. Nothing’s changed since last week, same as
usual.” I say gloomily.

“So when do you plan on changing things? That despicable
man’s taken so much from you already, he’s destroyed your mother and I don’t
want to see the same thing happen to you. I don’t want you to suffer the way
she has. When I look at my daughter now I don’t even recognise her, she’s a
ghost of the woman she used to be.”

I can’t even imagine how it must hurt my gran to see my mum
the way she is. She’ll never forgive him for all the abuse her daughter’s had
to endure over the years. It’s a miracle that gran doesn’t blame me for any of
it, maybe my mum would have found it easier to walk away from him if it weren’t
for me but she’s always known that he will never, ever give me up.

“Gran, I know what you’re saying and one day I promise you
that I’ll get away from him but until that day I’m stuck.”

“I just wish that you could meet somebody. Someone who will
take care of you the way your father should have taken care of her.”

“It’s not that easy. I never get an opportunity to
socialise and I don’t see that changing anytime soon.” I rub my forehead,
trying to ease the tension that’s building there.

“If your situation won’t provide you with anything then
you’re going to have to take it, Bethany. Don’t live the life that he’ll allow
you to have, get out and create one for your own. We only get one shot at this
and we can’t afford to mess it up. Everyday I have to live with the guilt and
the regret of what I should have done to protect your mum. I could have saved
her from the poor existence that she contends with today.”

“Gran, you know that none of this is your fault. You make
me strong and having you in my life gives me the courage and the confidence
that I need to think about the day when I’ll leave all of this behind.”

She doesn’t get a chance to respond because mum walks into
the living room whilst balancing the tea tray in her arms. She’d rather struggle
by herself than ask anybody for help. I jump up from my position on the floor
and take the tray from her.

We all sit and drink our tea in silence. The atmosphere
changed as soon as mum entered the room and I hope she didn’t realise that our
conversation stopped as soon as she joined us.

I wonder if mum ever used to sit by gran like this when she
was little. I’m curious to know what she was like as a teenager. Was she
outgoing or shy? Was she smart or has she always been timid? I rarely get time alone
with gran and that’s why I’ve never had much of a chance to ask her these
questions about my mum.

I used to spend more time here; I slept over at least once
a month when I was a little girl. She used to tell me stories about her
childhood; she told me how she first met my grandfather who died before I was
born and I often wish that I’d been able to meet him.

As soon as I reached my teenage years my father put a stop
to my staying over. His dislike for my gran only increased when he realised how
close we were but nothing he said ever turned me against her and it never will.

The sound of the telephone breaks the awkwardness in our
silence. I’m about to get up and answer it but mum beats me to it. The phone’s
in the hall so we can’t hear who what she’s saying but she returns a few
moments later.

 “Bethany, that was your father. He wants you to make
your way over to the bookstore.”

“Why? I don’t work on Saturday’s.” I complain.

“I don’t know why, he didn’t explain anything to me he just
said that he wants you there in ten minutes.”

I feel so afraid all of a sudden. I have no idea why he
wants me to go there and I start to worry that I’ve done something wrong. He’s
never summoned me like this before and I’d give anything to avoid making my way
over there to find out what he wants.

Gran sighs, looking at me pointedly. I know what that look
means, she’s telling me to go. We both know that if I don’t mum will be the one
to suffer.

“Fine, I’ll go.” I say angrily, standing up.

“I’ll see you next week, sweetheart.” Gran says. She takes
hold of my hand and squeezes it tightly; it’s her way of reassuring me that
everything’s going to be ok.

“Bye, Gran. I love you.” I lean down and kiss her on the
forehead.

“Take care of your mum.” She whispers into my ear.

“Always.”  I whisper.

I smile at mum as I leave; we haven’t embraced one another
for a long time. I don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable and whenever I
used to hug her it was like I was embracing a statue. She never held me tightly
like gran does.

It’s a fifteen minute walk to the bookstore and mum said he
expects me to be there in ten minutes so I better hurry up. My resentment for
him only increases with every step I take. I round the final corner and come to
a standstill, I can see the bookstore in the distance and know that it’s now
the time to bury every negative feeling that I have for him. I can’t ever allow
the hatred I have for him to show. If I want to survive I have to conceal my
true emotions for him. It helps to pretend that I’m wearing a mask, something
that will protect me and keep me safe from him. The trouble with that is I
can’t let that mask slip, not even for a second. It’s a constant battle, one
that I’ve had to live with for a long time.