Where the Light Learned My Name – Part I
Chapter Three: Disruption
A season passed and the leaves had begun to change into colorful tones of red and orange. Autumn was my favorite season. Gazing out of the window next to me, I wondered at how nature’s death was an event of vibrant beauty. The swirl of colorful leaves raining down filled my soul with joy knowing it would later bloom into new life, even more vibrant. I felt in my heart that it was the story of life itself.
In Grandma Great’s living room, I was surrounded by crayons, now focused on the canvas before me, consumed by imagination’s endless possibilities. As usual, Nini was laying at my side. Occasionally she’d look up and her tail would start to wag, an expression of her joy at simply being near me. This was my happy place.
Grandma Great entered the room and sat down on the sofa nearby. She had a solemn look on her face.
“Your mother called. She said Damian is coming home.”
Hearing this name invoked a feeling of both dread and curiosity in me.
Damian. I hadn’t heard his name in a few years, and hearing it now caused long-forgotten memories to resurface.
Damian was Mother’s husband. I was somewhat aware that Mother was in the middle of a divorce, but it wasn’t something she had discussed with us. They’d gotten married when I was only three, the same year she became pregnant with Cora by a different man. I had thought—and so had Cora—that he was her father, until he admitted it wasn’t true after he’d decided to leave us.
All I remembered was that when Damian had been part of our family, Mother had felt far away. There were always people in the house, always noise, always gatherings. I spent a lot of time alone. I didn’t know why he left. I only knew that after he did, Mother became more serious, more religious—and tried to find a new boyfriend at church immediately after, with little success.
Even as young as I was, I sensed that things were about to change. I had an unexplainable feeling of dread, but my mind battled to remain positive. On the bright side, Cora might be happy. After all, he was the closest thing to a father-figure she’d ever had, and Damian had always treated her well. I was invisible to him, which was fine with me. I had my own father.
Returning back to the present moment, I looked at Grandma Great and observed that there was an expression on her face that I couldn’t quite understand. It seemed gentle, but strained—like she was measuring her words carefully. She said that Mother wanted me to come home, then got up to help me gather my things.
A short while later, she dropped me off at home without offering to go inside. It almost seemed as though she felt unwelcome. I walked alone towards the front door of my home feeling nervous. I was curious to see what sort of person he was—I was so young when I’d last seen him, I didn’t yet have a full image of his character.
Maybe this was a good thing. I told myself to have faith in Mother.
Upon entering the house, I saw Damian sitting on the sofa with Cora on his lap and Mother sitting nearby. She got up and came over to me with a smile on her face.
“Hey Kiddo,” he said to me. He had a broad grin on his face. That seemed good to me.
“Hi,” I said.
I sat on the sofa with them. Cora was in a very good mood and she had both arms around Damian’s neck, as if he belonged only to her. I felt happy for her.
Mother spoke first.
“Damian is going to come back and be your father,” she said. “We’re not getting divorced. Starting today, we’re a family again. Ok, girls?”
We both nodded. My stomach twisted slightly.
To celebrate this reunion, Mother announced she was going to cook dinner.
Cooking was not something that she did often – we usually ate fast food. Whenever she did cook, she’d be enormously proud of it. I often recalled with dread the time that she’d made burritos, overjoyed at her own success, but something in them upset my stomach and I ran to the bathroom to vomit. She had followed me in distress, demanding to know what was wrong with her food. Between heaves, I’d reassured her it was good and that I didn’t know why I was sick. After that, I made sure to always finish my plate when she cooked, even the meals I didn’t like.
This time, Mother decided on her personal favorite, baked parmesan chicken. It was good, though dry, but I made sure not to leave a crumb on my plate. Cora was picking at the vegetables, scraping the ones she wouldn’t eat onto the tablecloth. Mother and Damian were talking to each other happily, discussing all the things they wanted to do in the future.
Wiping his beard with a napkin, Damian began to talk about the city he’d come from.
“We should move to Corvallis,” he said. “There’s good work there and cheaper apartments. We could save money.”
Mother was leaning into his words, her eyes sparkling as she listened. “Oh, that sounds nice. What do you think, girls?”
Cora began rocking in her seat excitedly. “Will I go to a new school?” she asked.
“Yes, you’ll have to go to a different school,” she said.
“Will I still get to see Father?” I asked. I was also worried about losing all my friends at school, but Father was my main priority.
“Yes, of course, you’ll still get your weekend visits,” she said.
At this, we both agreed that we were happy with whatever they decided.
It didn’t take long for Damian to find us a new apartment.
I said goodbye to all my friends, of which there were many, and carefully packed all my things. I had recently been given a certain porcelain doll for my birthday by one of our church members – something I had wanted very much. I kept it hidden from Cora. I carefully wrapped it in a blanket and tucked it into a box labeled ‘Bedding’.
When we arrived at our new apartment, it was first made clear that Cora and I were sharing a room. I wasn’t particularly happy about this, but I accepted without arguing. It just meant being extra careful about not upsetting Cora, and I was already well-practiced.
Most nights, however, Cora crept out of our room and went to sleep in Mother and Damian’s bed. Mother tried telling her she had to stop, but Cora would have fits, so eventually she gave up. I didn’t mind. It was almost like having my own room. I slept peacefully.
We started going to a new school, and although we were of different grades, our classes were held in the same large room. Cora and I were separated only by the large whiteboards that belonged to our classes. She was always behind me.
Having been separated at our previous school, I witnessed for the first time how she became frustrated during her lessons. She seemed to struggle more than her classmates with learning to read and write. Her letters were large and cartoonish, and the teachers took turns trying to help her, without success. Once her mood turned sour, no one could console her.
Eventually, they sent a note to Mother that she may need to go back a year. Mother put up a fight and said they needed to improve their ability to teach. So, Cora stayed. I tried to help her at lunch time, but it was difficult for her to follow instructions. The teachers gave her extra homework, which I offered to help her with, but she had very little interest outside of the classroom.
Life continued this way until one day we came home to find Damian and Mother gathered in the dining room, the table fully set up with homecooked food and what looked like bottles of wine. Mother seemed happier than usual and Damian had a proud look on his face.
“Girls, we have an announcement,” Mother said. “You’re going to have a baby sister!”
I felt a mixture of emotions flood into me. Shock, excitement, and fear. Fear, because I didn’t know how Cora would feel about this new addition to our family. She already hated it when Mother gave me attention.
As expected, Cora didn’t react with joy. “I don’t want a baby sister,” she said. “I have enough sisters.” She shot me a look.
Mother furrowed her brows, pouted her lips, and ruffled Cora’s hair. “Sorry girl, you’re going to have to get used to it. No going back now. I’m sure you’re going to love each other very much. Let’s eat!”
Mother opened one of the bottles of wine, which turned out to be sparkling cider. “We got this for you girls so you can toast with us,” she explained.
She handed each of us a long-stemmed glass filled with the golden, bubbly liquid, and then opened the second bottle for herself and Damian. That one was a rich ruby color, real wine, I guessed. We toasted and drank before settling down for dinner.
As time went on, Mother’s belly grew bigger, and so did her emotions. She and Damian had begun to argue often, though I usually tuned it out, so I didn’t pay attention to what they were saying. Most of the time, Mother was speaking through angry sobs, so I couldn’t understand it anyway. Cora and I would stay in our room during these times, closing the door to drown out the noise.
Occasionally, during their arguments, there’d be unfamiliar sounds accompanied by their loud words—sounds of someone falling, or perhaps something being thrown, but always behind closed doors.
Sometimes we would be called to dinner. Sometimes we wouldn’t. On the nights when we didn’t get called, I would eventually go to the kitchen with Cora, and we would make sandwiches or open cans of soup. Since the adults weren’t watching us, we found some pleasure in breaking the rules and taking the food back to our room to eat there instead of at the dinner table. I made sure to take the dishes down and then tried to persuade Cora to come with me to brush our teeth before bed.
Most mornings, I would be the one to get up and wake Cora to go to school. Mother and Damian kept their bedroom door closed, so at first, I would knock to let them know we were leaving—but eventually we left without saying anything at all.
One afternoon, we had stepped down from the school bus and begun walking home but then came to a halt; Mother and Damian were arguing loudly outside. They were standing by the community dumpster. I saw, with horrifying realization, that all of our furniture was sticking out of it. My mattress was the first thing I noticed, pink sheets still attached. I took in more details as I started walking closer, recognizing toys, clothes, and everything else we owned thrown carelessly inside. I thought about all the things I couldn’t see and then I pictured, at the bottom of the bin, my beautiful porcelain doll, her face shattered.
My eyes began to water.
Mother was pointing a finger at Damian, and he was angrily waving his hands in the air. They shouted at each other with words that sounded like a foreign language meant to instill hurt and pain. I didn’t understand what was happening. I could only stand there, paralyzed in the feeling of loss, wondering if it was going to get any worse. Cora stood next to me, only moving when I did, silently observing.
Suddenly, Mother noticed us watching and began walking furiously in our direction, hands on her enlarged belly as if guarding it. Then she stood next to us, glaring at Damian.
“Don’t come near me or my children,” she said flatly.
“Don’t forget you have my child too,” Damian spit back.
Mother ignored him, then took our hands and started walking towards our car. The doors were already unlocked, and she quickly put us inside as Damian started walking towards us. He moved slowly at first, but then faster as he realized she wasn’t changing her mind.
“Get out of that car!” He shouted.
“No,” she said.
Then she quickly got into the driver’s seat, locked the doors, and backed out of the driveway, almost hitting him as he walked. His furious threats continued to pierce the air, slowly fading as we drove away.
I pressed my forehead against the window and watched the world blur past us, trying to understand how life could be emptied so quickly. Mother cried silently as she drove.
“I’m hungry, mommy,” Cora said.
I looked at her, wondering how she could think about food at this moment, and then suddenly felt the strange sense of normalcy.
Things can get better now, I thought.
– more soon –