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My Mother's Darkness
I have six tattoos. Three of them are very new, but the other three are older. None of them really mean anything...I have a rose on my shoulder blade, a vine twining around my left arm and a tombstone on my ankle.
People always think tattoos mean something and they won't shut up until you give them some excuse. It's not the individual marks that mean something, it's the idea of a tattoo. For me they meant rebellion and sweet, sweet pain... and something permanent. I always wanted something that would be forever. I know enough about loss.
The biggest part of my life has always been about it, after all. I don't remember my mother. It's a hard thing to say, but I have no idea what she sounded like or what kind of perfume she liked to wear. You would've thought that was enough tragedy before I turned 15.
But apparently there's no one who keeps track of this bullshit. I don't know. You just try to deal with things the only way you know how. I don't know why I started slutting around. Was it Mal's death? I don't know what was worse... Mallory's broken, shattered body... or Jessie, immobile and mute, her mind still ticking away, trapped in her own skull. Dr. Reece thinks I wanted to get pregnant to reconnect with my mother through a child. I think she's a bitch.
It's not like I decided to take my birth control late one day on purpose. It just happened. And I happened to go on a date that night with Logan. And the next night with Pete Black. Then I got drunk at a party and I don't remember but...Anyway, it's not like I woke up and decided that I wanted to get pregnant. Hell, I like short skirts and halter tops and it's damn hard to wear those when you're knocked up.
Of course, Dr. Reece suggested that the reason my fashion sense changed was to try to get my dad to pay a little more attention to me.
Like I said, she's a bitch. She's also the only one who will mention what everyone knows but pretends they don't... that I had three kids by my own stepbrother. I was probably sleeping with Logan and Pete so I could even lie to myself, but let's face it, my most common lay is Jeff, visiting Stoney Brook over Winter vacation.
He's fourteen. Old enough. He didn't try to talk to me either, not like the other guys, those that who really knew the old Mary Anne. He just brought me beers and drove with me by Shannon's when he lived around here.
It's not like I'm much older anyway. And it's not like it was on purpose. It's legal. But whatever, that's not the point. Jeff is back in Palo City and I'm with Stacey. In the barn. And I love her, right? Of course I do. I keep telling myself that. It's why I went to see Dr. Reece again... after the dark secrets Dad told me on the day the triplets were birthed, I'd have been crazy not to. The day I discovered the secret: I had a mother I never knew I never knew.
All these years I've been told by everyone: my dad, my grandparents...MIMI...everyone that my mom died of cancer. But on the day that I was the happiest I'd ever been my dad leaned over the hospital bed, cradling his grandson and said, "Mary Anne, I need to tell you something."
He tried to stutter something out and ended up only letting out a broken sob.
Finally, he handed me Jesse and said, "Your mom didn't have cancer."
Of course, I just stared at him. In my older, weepy days, I'd be embarrassed to admit my first thought was what the fuck did this have to do with anything. He just kept crying until he finally pulled himself together-- a tremendous act of will, you could tell. "Your mother killed herself," he whispered, as if he were afraid the babies would hear. "After you were born... she... she became withdrawn. She didn't want to face the world... She had no love left in her... and one night... my OCD medication went missing... and so did Alma."
e sighed. "I'm so sorry Mary Anne. I thought it would be better if you didn't know...But Sharon and I were talking a year or so ago and realized that Alma more than likely was suffering from post partum depression. I just want you to be aware." I just stared at him. Trust Richard Spier to do this. "What the hell, Dad?! Any more secrets you want to come out with? In the third grade, did you have an affair with Mrs. Kishi?"
"I understand your anger, sweet one," he said, ruffling my hair. "But it's better you know now... before... before the demons come out in you... that's why your grandparents took you at first. I was afraid it was me who had let my beloved fall into darkness."
I called for a nurse to take away the babies. I'm sixteen years old and just had triplets. Plus, my mother killed herself when I was six months, my best friends fractured and I've slept with exactly 3/5 of the guys at Stoney Brook High and 1/8 at Stoney Brook Middle (Stacey figured out the math for me). Is there anything worse that the world can toss at me today? Because I'm waiting!
You don't think you can sink lower sometimes, you know? I thought the worst of day of my life was going to that night I went to New York City with Claudia to meet Cam Geary… only to wake up in Harlem the next morning, empty needles on the floor, surrounded by strange men and bottles. Fortunately that Lane bitch Stacey knew came to get us. Stacey had to beg her. That rich bitch condescended us the whole ride back, but she still asked who my dealer was. After that night, I swore no more drugs, just alcohol. And I've kept that vow… well, mostly. A girl can't be perfect.
But as I watched my father slink from the room in shame and the nurse comes to take my babies to the nursery, my father's admission is cruel and painful, but wise, nonetheless. "Nurse," I said, grabbing her arm in desperation (cut me a break, I just found out my mother drugged herself to death rather than nurse me). "Does Dr. Reece still work here?" She nodded. I asked for an appointment.
I hope to God that she can help. Because I do not want to go gently into that good night. I don't want to leave my babies. I don't want to worry that Stacey isn't for me.
And that's why I'm in her office three times a week. It's one of the only times I leave the barn. My father and I haven't spoken since the admission. Sharon was the one who took care of everything. Sharon is the one who watches the babies. I hope they appreciate Sharon... she is, after all, a mother who loved her children. Not like mine... and without having that bond, can I be any better?
Stacey is living in the barn too, most nights. She's wonderful with the babies but sometimes I worry that she's not for me. I know that I'm making her happier than I've ever made any other person before but still...I worry that I'm just settling, that I'll never be able to find anyone else who accepts my three babies.
She accepts that I don't want to touch her. Of course, she thinks its because I'm trying to change, be chaste. Dr. Reece says I should be honest. I'm sure Dr. Reece is a frigid old bitch in a loveless marriage and can't even admit it. Still... I keep coming back. I keep wanting to change. I want good things for me. Dawn called last week. Is the reason I didn't stay on the line because I can't connect? I can't keep anyone around.
I'm trying to change. I thought it might be time to have something permanent that means something. Which is why I now have six tattoos. I've got the babies' names twining around my left wrist now...They've got to help me stay focused. And soon I'll love Stacey the way she deserves.
When that happens, I'll tattoo her name somewhere. Somewhere only she gets to see. I hope it'll happen. Despite all the bad things, I've been lucky. I'm lucky my babies were born perfect, even though I never stopped boozing. They're my gifts from god, my get out of jail free card. I'll make it work. I wonder if my mother watches me now, watches me fight... even though she couldn't. Wouldn't. Dr. Reece says I have to deal with the anger. Of course, she doesn't know I usually do that with a bottle.
At least I'm fighting. Someday I'll get past this fight and have to move on to getting rid of the bottle, but that's a while from now. Right now I'm more worried about the five of us. Well...Deep down, where I'm the old, tenderhearted Mary Anne, I'm worried about eight of us. We've all got our battles.
We've all got our crosses to bear in this life. That's what I've learned. I sneak out of the bed I share with Stacy, to the end of the barn where the nursery is. I look lovingly down at my three spawn. Some women with my condition drown them. Others, like my mother take their own life. But I will be courageous. I will be brave. I will move on. I will forgive my father. I will love my babies and raise them right. I will teach Jessie ballet, so he can do justice to his namesake. Maybe I'll bring them to visit her. Maybe our love, my beautiful babies, could revive her?
I'm thankful I'm getting help. Maybe my bravery will inspire the others… or maybe I'll fall back into sin again? Who knows what the future holds? Nothing in my life has ever been permanent… but these babies will be… unless—no, I won't! II ear a twig crack outside the barn and turn but no one is there. I gaze through the window and see the moon, shining so illustrious and bright. I whisper sweet tales of the man in the moon to my babies and other snippets about the shiny orb of cheese. Yes, there will be love.
Maybe there can be a future. If I can change, so can they. I can be strong for us all, me, pale, timid Mary Anne in a jumper. Yes. I don't have to be angry. I can be brave… and maybe with my courage and gumption, things will get better. We'll pitch in.
And together, aybe we could undo the damage we all caused... the night Mallory died.