Showers Bring Shards
What happens when betrayal is the only language your monster speaks, aka, why I might have trust issues.
We drove back to his parent’s; I picked up my car and drove it back home. It was my mother’s birthday, I got her a cake and a small gift, and she was beyond pleased by this. My dad was very happy, as he had asked me to do this.
I visited with my friends, who were to be in my wedding, we met and discussed dress colors and styles, I told them what I wanted, that they should be able to re-wear them for something else and they got them.
It was all a flurry of activity and planning. At the mall I tried on a dress, and it fit, so I bought it, even though it was too short. The salesperson said, oh you can wear flats with those. I really did not care beyond it fitting and being a style, I could tolerate. This was not MY wedding, it was his mothers, but I would be the dutiful child and do as was expected.
The shower for me was to be the night before my birthday, as it was a weekend, and everyone could make it that day. It was at my mother’s; my dad’s family was so excited. They had met him as well, when we were home a few months before, and they liked him very much as well.
I hardly had time to catch my breath, the whirlwind did not stop, I had not time to think clearly, I had orders and I marched forward. I was happy, but I wished my Gran could have been here, being home just rubbed salt in that unhealed wound. 19 is a great age, until it is not.
On the day of the shower, which was my last night in Michigan, as I was due to leave shortly for Iowa, due to the preparation for the wedding, all the travel arrangements had been made and I needed to get my dad’s measurements for the tux, he was walking me down the aisle, it was the only piece of the wedding that I was truly excited for, because he was my rock and I wanted the world to know my wonderful dad.
Took my dad to a tux shop for his measurements, and then went home to help set up for my shower. My mother was cooking, and I had to get the plates and napkins out for the party. My mother said, “Oh, they are in the buffet, can you get them?”
Into the buffet I started to dig, she could not remember which drawer, I riffled through a few, and then finally found the napkins, when I pulled them out, along came a bundle of letters, addressed to me. My world stopped spinning, I calmly sat down, opened the last letter received, that week and read carefully what was written.
“I love you; I miss you, why have you not written back to me? Are you getting my letters, I am waiting for you, my love!” Every letter I opened, I had to swallow the vomit threatening to spew forth. Every letter the same message, “I love you. I miss you, write me.” And there went what was left of any caring I had left in my soul for my mother, in that moment. I had been betrayed, the ultimate betrayal by a serial betrayer. This would not be born, this was not right, someone had to pay, it would be her.
I calmly walked into the kitchen, tears streaming down my face; I slammed the bundle of letters onto the table and said, “Explain yourself before I snap your neck.”
She turned around in complete shock, then saw what I was referring to, she then smiled, a slow snake smile and looked me in the eye with pride and said, “I did not like his name; it is your father’s name. You know we don’t say that name here. Besides, your fiancé is from a family that has money. There will be money for me, of course. I did this for you honey.”
I looked her dead in the eye and said, “NO, you did this for you. You lied to me; you know what that means to me. You lied straight to my face. You made me sick; you made my friends all worry. You pushed me into this, so you could use me as your cash cow again. I am not your cash cow and there will NEVER BE MONEY FOR YOU.”
I then started around the table after her, she ran for the door and had grabbed my keys on the way, and she got into my car and took off down the road. I chased her for a good ½ mile, before she gained speed and got away.
I stood there seething with anger, all the anger I had pushed down all those years, had just popped up and were willing to end her life at that moment in time, because she sold me out once again, for her own perceived gain, not my happiness.
I went back into the house and just cried for everything I had been through, and this is what she does. What kind of mother does that, oh wait, she is not a mother, she is my monster. This is revenge, the ultimate revenge against me for existing. I get that.
My dad came home, found me crying, saw the bundle of letters and who they were from, he was completely shocked, he was angry for me and bewildered that his wife could stoop that low. I told him what she said, he just shook his head and apologized, told him it was not his place to do that, it was hers and she felt she had nothing to apologize for.
He asked where she was, I told him I went after her and she ran for her life, I would kill her, be done with it once and for all. He put his arm around me and said, “No, you won’t, you don’t deserve to go to jail for that, even if it was justified. You love her, in spite of her, and you are too good a person to do that.”
He asked me what I was going to do now, I told him, I would write a letter, explain and then go and get married. I made a promise, I am a person of my word and I loved him, so I would honor my commitment.
My dad helped me set up for the shower, and my mother returned, once she saw my dad’s car there. He told her to not to talk to me and that she had to apologize for what she had done. She tromped into the room like a two-year-old called on the carpet and said, “Sorry.” Turned and walked out of the room.
My guests arrived, I had pulled myself together by this point and no one suspected that earlier that afternoon, I had intended to kill my mother for betraying me and selling me out. My guests were happy for me; we talked of wedding, honeymoon and all the other things. In the back of my mind, I wrote the letter I would be sending soon. I had to talk to my fiancé and let him know what happened, fortunately, once this was done, I was to call him.
It was so great seeing everyone, that by the end of the shower, the tension had finally left my body and I was relaxed and happy, as happy as I had been before I found that bundle of letters from overseas.
Everyone wished me well and we parted. I went back in, told my mother to clean up her mess and I went to call my fiancé. He was so happy to hear my voice, but knew something was wrong, we talked, I told him everything, because he knew everything, and he asked me what I intended to do. I told him, we have plans, we are moving forward, and this does nothing to them. I made a promise; I keep my word, was he okay with that? Did he still want to? He said yes, and so he told me to get a good night’s sleep and that he loved me. I told him I loved him too and wished him a good night as well.
I then sat down and wrote the hardest letter I ever had to write. Whether or not he would believe me, I was unsure, because it was so fantastic, but it was true. I told him how I had called home every week waiting, asking if there was a letter, that I had been told repeatedly no. How I had moved on, with help of our friends, how my summer had been and what had happened. That I was engaged to be married and that I intended to move forward with that, because I had given my word. I also told him that I loved him, that yes I meant what I said, and no it was not situational, but we had not similar understanding between us. That yes, I had said I would come there, but we made no marriage plans, were not engaged and so I had to go with my standing promise. How my fiancé had been there for me and supported me through all of this. How I was marrying one of my best friends. I closed the letter apologizing profusely and wishing him well and for him to find happiness and to forget me. I also mentioned that I had tried to kill my mother, once I found out, in case that might make him understand how hard this was for me, but I had moved on, under the thought he had as well.
