The Stepsisters

Chapter 7

            I felt like time was going to stop and that after everything that's happened, that we would never get over it.  I expected my mother to kick Rupert and his daughter out of our house, and that by now we would be living alone with the three of us again.  But weeks had passed ever since the incident, and everything was still the same.  Rupert still went to work everyday, mother worked in her garden, and when Rupert came home we all sat together for dinner as if we were a family.  Drizella and my mother refused to talk about it whenever I tried to bring it up.  It was like if they said it out loud, it would make it real.  But it was real, it did happen, and no one was doing anything about it.  Rupert went back to his normal self, and for a while there wasn't any repeat of what had happened.

            It was something else this time, I don't even know what happened.  All I knew was what I was seeing in front of me, what I thought I would never see again.  Rupert was yelling, mother was screaming, and Drizella and I watched from the stairs, pleading for him to stop. 

            It started to become a pattern.  Things would be good, mother would sing, and then all of a sudden things would be bad again and I would have to watch my mother cry.  I knew after the first time he got away with it, he would never be able to stop. 

            "Drizella, we have to talk to mother.  We can't let her keep putting up with this, and we don't even know why."  I release my anger by scraping off a puddle of grease that was plastered to a plate. 

            She grabs the remaining plates off the table and stacks them on top of each other.  "You're right, we'll talk to her after tomorrow when he's at work."

             The next morning, Drizella and I find our mother in her garden, as usual.  "Mother, we need to talk about what's happening."

            She nods but doesn't say anything. I looked to Drizella, and she doesn't say anything either.  "Why are you still with him, he hurts you and you don't do anything wrong! You must be insane, I can't believe you."  I blurt. 

            Drizella fires an exasperated glare in my direction, as if I've gone too far.  But I don't care. I need to know why my mother is acting like this.

            My mother speaks quietly, but she doesn't look away from her flowers.  "I know you don't understand, Anastasia.  You can't understand, neither of you can.  You can't understand unless you are in my position. You don't know what it's like."

            "So tell us what it's like, please.  Help us understand."  Drizella whispers.

            She takes a deep breath, as if she knows she is about to talk for a long time.  "I know that he hurts me, and I know that it's wrong.  I know it may seem ridiculous to you two that I'm staying with him even though he treats me terribly.  But even you two know, that he isn't always like that.  He can be so sweet and charming, and he apologizes every time and tells me that he doesn't mean to hurt me.  I know he doesn't intend to hurt me and that it's just an accident, that he can't control his anger.  I can't help but think that maybe it's my fault that he can't control his anger.  Maybe I just provoke him, maybe it's somehow my fault."

            "Are you kidding me, it is not your fault.   You need to leave him, why can't you see that?" My words appear sharp, and quick. I can feel the anger growing within me.

            "It's not that simple.  I can't just leave him after everything we've been through.  Regardless of what he does, I still love him and every time I talk to him it's like he has some power over me, like I can't leave him no matter how bad it gets.  I don't know how I would be able to survive without him.  I need him, and I will put up with anything to keep him happy."

            "Can't you see that he's manipulating you?" Drizella asks, trying to keep her voice calm. 

          

   She shakes her head.  "Oh, I know he is.  But you still can't understand and I can't really explain.  You look at me, and judge me, and think that I'm weak for not being able to let go.  You just want to see what will happen, you want to tell me to do what's right instead of just supporting my choices."  Her hand grips the stem of a flower, and it looks as if she is going to rip it out.   

            "Just leave me alone, please."  She turns back to her flowers and starts to sing again, as if we were never even there.

            We begin to walk back inside the house, and I turn to take one last look at my mother.  Wrinkles have formed under her eyes, her hair is greying, and her piercing green eyes look like they're filled with sadness and anger.  She smiles at her flowers, and I can't help but notice her smile doesn't look the same. It wasn't the usual warm smile that I was used to seeing my whole life.  There was just something off, something quite not right.