Chapter IV: The Truth
The next day I wake with a knot in my stomach. Our secret is out, and there is nothing I can do to stop it from spreading but pray. Pray that Mr. Grete will mind his own business. But I know that this will not be the case. I walk downstairs and begin to prepare breakfast.
"Rebecca, what's this about a parent teacher conference?"
What? I turn to see my mother standing in the doorway, a look that I know all too well spreading across her face.
"W-what parent teacher conference?"
"I just got off the phone with your teacher; she says she wants you and I to come in after school. She wants to discuss something important."
Suddenly she's in front of me, staring down with cold green eyes.
"What have you done?" she whispers.
"I didn't do any-" she slaps me across the face. I contain my anger and return to my work, all while she is standing behind me, screaming at the top of her lungs.
Maybe she doesn't deserve my help. Maybe I should just tell them. Maybe there is an escape after all. She means nothing to me anyway. You know that's not true. You know that you love me, I'm your mother. There's that voice again.
"Get away from me!"
I run out the door, and to the bus stop, where I wait in the sun for route 189.
Ring. Ring. Ring
The last bell of the day sounds through the hallways as students pour out of their classrooms. I stay behind, because in only thirty minutes, my mother will be walking through the door.
"Miss Ronan, is your mother coming?"
"I think so, ma'am." I struggle to keep my voice from shaking.
Mr. Grete walks in with another man in tow.
"Miss Ronan, this is Mr. Marlo, he will be meeting with your mother as well."
What is this, some kind of interrogation? That's exactly what it is.
A few moments later, I hear a pair of heels clicking down the hallway. My mother comes in wearing a yellow dress and just enough makeup to cover what's left of a hangover on her face.
"Hello," she says with a fake grin on her face, "My name is Fran Ronan, Rebecca's mother." She takes the hand of everyone in the room, still holding that grin.
"Hello Ms. Ronan, I'm Richard Grete. Will you have a seat please?" He gestures to a series of chairs in the back of the classroom. We all take a seat and wait for someone to break the silence.
It's Mrs. Franklyn who does so.
"Ms. Ronan, do you know why we are here?"
"Well I would assume it's because Rebecca has done something wrong."
"No, actually, we're here because we believe that someone else has done something wrong."
Oh my gosh.
My mother is shaking.
"What do you mean?"
"Ms. Ronan look at your daughter. Her legs. Her arms. Her neck. What do you see?" Mr. Marlo pipes up.
My mother looks at me without a glimpse of compassion in her eyes whatsoever.
"I see bruises and cuts, perfectly normal for a child her age-"
"Yes," he interrupts, "it is normal for a child her age to have a few minor cuts and bruises, however it is not normal for those cuts and bruises to be in the shape of fingers, fists, and nails."
My mother opens, and then closes her mouth. For the first time ever, she is at a loss for words.
"We can make this easy, Ms. Ronan. You can tell us the truth about the wounds on this child's body, or we will have to take you downtown for questioning that I'm sure you don't have time for. So, what's it going to be?"
"How dare you accuse me of hurting my own child-"
"Rebecca," she is interrupted "tell me, where did they come from?"
Before i speak, I turn to God.
Dear Lord,
Please give me the strength to make the right decision. Please guide me into the life that I am supposed to live, rather it be with my mother or with someone else. Show me the way to your kingdom. Show me the way to your will
In Jesus' name I pray, Amen.
I let out a deep breath. I had forgotten to breathe for a moment.
"They came," can I do it? No, you can't. You won't rat your own mother out will you?
Yes I will.
"They came from my mother."
In a split second I am on the ground with two hands around my neck. All that I can hear is my mother yelling, "You little brat! How could you?"
As soon as it happens, it stops. I'm lifted from the ground as I gasp for air. I can see my mother pinned against the wall as Mr. Grete and Mr. Marlo try to keep her away from me. The two men then drag her out of the room as she kicks and screams.
All that I can feel… is relief.
Have I done the right thing?