Don't Need A Man

in which she finally sees why

"We've had problems for a long time, before you were even born. He's only ever wanted sons, and like the retard-- God forgive me-- he is, he thought just wishing for a son would give him one. It worked the first time, I suppose, since I had Clover. Six years later, I give birth to a girl. He was disappointed, your father, to say the least. But I thought it would be okay, since he had a son to hand his fortune over to. Then we had another girl, Ginger. His disappointment doubled. Two girls, only a single year apart, running around the house.

I tried my hardest to ease his disappointment by being the best wife possible. When Clover was eighteen and my girls were in their early teens, Barney wanted to send Clover off to business school so he could take over the company when he retires. As you know, your brother decided to join the police force instead. Barn was devastated. His next best bet was, well, you. But the thought of having a woman take over his company froze his blood.

So he looked over to his elder brother's son in law, Darren, hoping and praying he'd agree. You also know, he did.

Apart from stress from the company he had the extra stress of having a troublesome teenage daughter with a big mouth. At fifteen you started to speak up to him, something I couldn't fathom. I could never talk back to Barney, not even when we first started dating. He's a big man with a temper.

He and I watched Ginger mimick your every move, and when we saw her start to get bolder he had to stop it. He started to tell Ginger, uh-- to put it simply, lies about you. Over time Ginger grew to resent you, I never knew what Barney told Ginger but I know it all wasn't good.

He's the quiet parent when you children are around. He's a different person when we're alone: very dominating and possessive. Even at my old age of fifty six he makes sure men don't glance my way.

I can't stand him anymore, Rosemary. Believe me when I say I've tried. His hatred towards you rubbed off on me, he was my husband and the man of the house. I believe-- believed that what he said goes. But-But I can't handle it anymore.

Maybe you have a point, Rose Garden, maybe I don't need a husband to be happy."

I sit on the familiar couch, the couch I used to jump on with Ginger as children. Tears glisten in my mother's eyes. I don't really know what to say to her. She just explained to me why I thought my family hated me. Her leaving my father was unexpected, to me at least, and slightly hurtful, again to me. But she looks so much happier without his things in her bedroom.

Supposedly Father left Mother the house, him taking the vacation house out in Canada (he's Canadian, Grams and Gramps live up there).

I set my water down on the coffee table and stand up. Her wide brown eyes watch in disbelief as I brush off my clothing. She stands also, almost looking desperate.

But I catch her off guard when I hug her.

I hug her so hard I imagine all the broken pieces in her fall back into place.