A Character
Submitted by snowflake14 on Thu, 05/07/2009 - 14:21.
I sat, unmoving, my children’s hot breath and tears felt on my neck and through my thin, dirty clothes. The weight of them leaning into me and onto my shoulder increased my desire to collapse. Though I denied myself the relieving tears, the ones that would let the emotion seep out and free some tension…some pain.
I saw my oldest daughter, standing by our rusted sink. She was starring out the window; she hadn’t said a word. The only signs of her pain were her shoulders rhythmically moving, with what could only be tears. When she went to take a breath I saw the fluid movement turn jerky…but only for a moment. Her black messily braided hair kind of bounced with the tremble of her shoulders. She cried, but yet she appeared and seemingly remained strong.
I wanted to go to her, to hold her in my arms and tell her everything was going to be all right, but yet I sat, still stuck in place. Did she deserve the lies, or did she deserve the cold hard truth? I knew for my sake she would try to be strong…but I needed her to recover. Moments later she had finished crying and she turned on the faucet and ran water over her face, then took a towel and dried it. She then turned.
“How can I help?” she asked, now determined to not show pain.
“Bethany, please, relieve your pain, we can discuss changes later,” I said.
“Mom, I need to help. What should I do?” she asked. She waited for my response, and while I sat thinking she began scrubbing dishes.
I needed to move, but I couldn’t. My body felt heavy and cemented in place. Slowly the fear, worry, and sadness had sunk in…I couldn’t move from the kitchen table were I had just read the life-changing note. I already had to work extremely hard to support my children, but with the loss of my husband and his income, what would become of my family?
I touched my hand to my face; near my frowning mouth, something I typically did when I was nervous or worried and stressed. I forced my hand away, I must appear strong, I thought. I couldn’t show my pain; my children needed me.
“Bethany, please, that isn’t necessary right now. Your well being is my biggest concern,” I said.
“Like that isn’t affected by the changes that will occur in our way of living?” she asked, her tone rose. Her eyes searched mine while she dried the plate in her hands.
I looked down…sad…worried. I needed to help her, but I was too weary. I closed my eyes and felt a tear on my cheek. Bethany came over, and held me…then she cried too.