Content: Homophobia / Stereotypes / Emotional and physical abuse.
Tegan was playing with fire and she knew it. However, she had to try. Something was strange in her system, in her heart, head, and womb. An unfamiliar sensation. A novel feeling. She wanted what she was not ready for. She was ready; however, to step over the red lines, beat Sara's crazy attempts, and do the impossible just to quench that disturbing, source-less thirst.
"I need your help more now," she told Stacy as they sat on the dinner table.
"You want to go to a different gynecologist?" the older woman asked.
"I want to try having a baby without Sara knowing," Tegan informed with masked confidence.
"What?" Stacy was surprised, Tegan could see it. Her jaw dropped, lips rounded and eyes widened.
"I want to do the whole insemination thing after I heal and without Sara knowing. But I want your help. I want you to be with me," explained Tegan.
"How?" Stacy shouted. "Tegan, are you even thinking?"
Tegan began to cry.
"Tegan," Stacy tried again. The younger woman was still sensitive, way too sensitive to be shouted at. "Listen to me. This is something you can only discuss with your partner, with the person you're trying to have a family with. You can't do it without their knowledge. It will hurt you and the relationship."
"She doesn't want to try again." Tegan was sobbing. "She said we'll adopt. I just want to try at the doctor's one last time. Please. She doesn't want it. She fears I'll lose the fetus again."
No wonder, Stacy thought. First loss had already been enough to deal with, Sara didn't need the second and she definitely would not welcome a third one. It would be devastating.
"I'm sorry, Tegan." Stacy put her head down. It was too agonizing to stare into the bloodshot hazel eyes of the young woman. "I can never be part of something like that."
"You don't get it. You never will."
"Tegan," Stacy tried again, "it's not that I don't get it. It's more of a relationship and trust thing. If Sara knows you're doing this behind her back, she'll be upset with you. Imagine if something horrible happened again? She'll blame me for agreeing, not you."
"You're being selfish," Tegan accused.
"I'm protecting you, Tegan."
"Shut up."
Stacy sighed. She couldn't do anything about it. Tegan was hurt. When people were sad, they said nonsense like that.
"You're only trying to protect yourself," Tegan continued with a sniffle. "You know I can do this without you, right?"
"Tegan," Stacy raised her voice.
"If I was Sara and I asked you to do the same, you'd do it in a heartbeat because you love Sara. You'd do anything for her."
Stacy stood up without saying a word. She began to clean the table while Tegan was still sitting. She figured that if she said something back, she would hurt Tegan more with her sharp tongue, and she had promised Sara she would be the care Tegan needed in such a hard time, not the opposite.
Tegan stood up and went to her room in tears. She tried to understand her torment, but even the deepest parts within herself couldn't comprehend why her misery was shadowing her. It was not the end of the world, she kept reminding herself.
It didn't work, though. She just felt disappointed in her body, in her ability, her womanhood, her expectations.
She turned around when Stacy came in with a glass of water and pills in her hands. "You have to take your medicine," whispered the raspy voice.
She sat up quickly, swallowed the two tablets, gulped a good amount of water and put her head down on the pillow again; almost like an angry five-year-old at her mother.
"When I realized Sara was giving you fertility drugs behind your back I was angry at her. I think you remember that too well. You know how wrong I thought that was, and that's the same thing, Tegan. What you're doing is exactly the same thing."
"No," Tegan objected with a choked sob. "It's not, because back then it was my body she was messing with, and now it is still my body that I want to mess with."
"It's not only your baby," Stacy said.
"Just leave me alone."
It seemed like there was no hope. Nothing Stacy could do was going to wipe those tears. She could not say yes to such a terrible idea. She would betray Sara if she did. Her heart stung, however. Seeing Tegan cry made her tear up, and, eventually, she began to cry. Was she becoming that sensitive? Was that a good or a bad thing? She rarely cried before, how come she was crying over the tiniest details nowadays? Perhaps her sorrow made it easier for her heart to feel other people's sorrows.
When Sara came home, they were both crying. Sara panicked.
"I left home and she was fine," the professor exclaimed. "She was fine when I left."
The friend wiped her tears. "She won't stop crying."
"Tegan?" Carefully, the older woman approached her wife. A hand was put on a sticky, tear-stained cheek. "What's wrong, darling?" Her voice was soft and creamy. Tender.
"I'm hurt," Tegan answered.
"How hurt? Are you in pain? Want to go to the doctor?"
"No." Tegan turned around. She looked at the professor and swallowed. "I'm sad."
"I know." Sara leaned in to give her a small kiss, but she knew this was not going to help a broken chest. "It will get better." Tegan shook her head. "I promise you."
"I don't feel good; please don't tell me things are going to be good." The tears were plentiful and the pain was sucking out whatever remnants of positivity and prosperity they had carried back with them from Italy. All hope flew out of the window. All joy went away with the days. How could one morning ruin their present pleasure and turn it to ashes? Sara didn't imagine going back home to a miserable wife after the happiness they had experienced the previous month. "Just let me feel bad. Let me cry it out."
So Sara let her feel bad for these short moments as she recalled her own version of words to her mother. Tegan was lucky she had her by her side. If Jack only had taken care of her the way she was taking care of Tegan, things would have been different. Maybe they would not have been together, but at least she wouldn't have to feel like a building was collapsing on top of her small body whenever she was around him. At least she wouldn't have reprimanded him today.
Tegan's hands were rubbed and her face was kissed constantly in order to be calmed down. She was softly whimpering now. Stacy was still sitting in the bedroom with arms folded and a look too hazed to decipher.
"Stace?"
The friend looked up as if she had been awakened from a deep sleep.
"Want to sleep over?"
"Uh…" She looked up at the opened door. Her daughter was still asleep outside. "I don't think so. I think I should leave you alone to talk. But…uh…" She looked at Tegan's red face on her friend's lap. "I think you should take her to the doctor tomorrow to have another checkup. Her doctor, preferably. She should feel comfortable."
"Yeah, I was going to." Sara paused after another kiss on Tegan's temple. "Something happened?"
Stacy nodded and whispered that she would inform her friend later. Sara tried to conceal her concern.
"I want to shower," voiced Tegan, getting up. "I feel dirty."
"Now?" asked her wife hesitantly.
"Yes."
"Okay." Sara got up, leaving the other woman hugging the white, fluffy pillow. "I'll help you in."
"No, no," Tegan got up, too. "I'm alright. I can help myself."
As soon as Tegan was inside the bathroom, Sara began to investigate about what had happened before she returned. Question after another till she was able to steal the words from Stacy's mouth.
"I really shouldn't be saying what she said but I'm worried, Sara. I want you to talk to her but indirectly. Don't confront her. The idea is carved in her head now. She got upset with me for not helping. I didn't say yes because of the reasons I just mentioned before. I can't interfere with something that I have nothing to do with, you know."
"Yeah," Sara said with eyes wide, as if she was thinking of something else, way too distracted to listen, staring vaguely into space. "Yeah," she continued with a tear rolling down her pale face, proving that she indeed was sharply present; heard everything her friend had said.
"I never thought things could go this far," Sara announced. "I am a fool. I hurt her."
"You're not."
"I really am," insisted Sara.
"Shut up," answered Stacy. "It's just a hard time. She just thinks the same thing that happened to you will happen to her."
"I think she needs to get back to therapy."
"Of course she needs to. Her mind is gonna destroy her if she stays this depressed."
"We'll overcome this, right?" Sara asked, expecting the answer, not sure about its credibility.
"Of course you will." Stacy laughed. "You overcame way worse. What's wrong with you? This is just a hard time for her, Sara. She needs support and she's getting it. Don't worry." Stacy stood up. "I should leave now. Call me if you want anything, alright?" She was given a silent nod before she was led to the door with her daughter in her arms.
Before falling asleep, Sara gave her wife a foot massage. She told her to call her mother to assure her she was fine; Sonia had called while she was in the shower. As Tegan talked to her mother for half an hour, Sara rubbed her feet, kissed her ankles and cuddled with her. In the morning they visited the medical center. Both, Dr. Wilson and Dr. Anderson, were shocked to learn what had happened to Tegan. According to both she was fine as fine could be. It was just not the suitable time, they supposed. Tegan rolled her eyes whenever they told her to hang in there. She was ordered to continue taking iron supplements and vitamins.
Tegan did not want to visit her therapist after leaving the medical center. "I'm fine," she said shortly. "I'm just hurt; I just need time to recover. I don't want a therapist to help me, I just need time." Sara could not do anything about it. After all, it was her wife's decision whatever she wanted to do with her mind and body, not hers.
Nevertheless, when they got home, Tegan collapsed on the couch and burst into tears. Her wails were too loud, too worrisome—way too anguished not to cry listening to. Sara sat right beside her. She held her head and put it on her lap. She caressed her flaming, rosy cheeks and stroked her hair. Tears kept rolling out of the younger woman's eyes. Sara could do nothing but be the moral support she promised herself she would always be to her wife.
They sat there for hours. Sara would get up often to bring food or coffee then would get back. The tears had not left her wife's eyes for a single second. At one moment Sara was haunted by the terrifying thought that her lover could go blind due to excessive crying. She shook the thought away when Stacy called. Sara told her Tegan was not fine.
Yes, she was invited over. Perhaps Ella was going to change the gloomy mood and make it better. It seemed that all Tegan wanted to do was cry.
Tegan fell asleep before the friend and her daughter came. She fell asleep on Sara's lap, so the professor found it hard to get up or change her position in case she might disturb her wife's solace. She toyed with her phone. One app led to another and she found herself dialing up the person she thought she would never run to in such moments.
When Evelyn picked up, she was panting. "Sara," she chanted, "are you alright, my dear?"
Sara did not answer. Why? She looked at her phone and swallowed. Why? She was out of options? She was looking for some unnecessary lecture about God's will? Why? Why did she run to the person who blocked her when she needed help most? Why was she an idiot? Why was she weak, dependent, a child that never learned how to grow up? In the dark, she searched for the fire that would burn her. Why?
"I've been having terrible nightmares about you," her mother said. "Are you okay? Your partner is in those dreams, too. It's like…" Her mother's accent was thick, too thick to comprehend that if it was someone else other than Sara, they would think it was nonsense. How come her mother had never grasped the accent her father had? How come her French accent became thicker after he had died?
Sara burst into tears. Tears she did not know were locked up inside in such an abundance that she awoken the sleeping woman. Tegan's eyes opened wide, staring at her in fright. Her gasps were frantic. The mother kept asking why and the wife continued staring at her without saying a word.
"My wife had a miscarriage, mother." Tegan's eyes softened; the lids covered the pupils and the irises became lighter in shade. Her hand reached Sara's shaking one. She squeezed it gently as her heart was squeezed inside her own chest. She felt the sting climbing up from her left wrist and taking over her entire body. Sara was speaking to the mother she hated about their loss. Did she really hate her mother or was that just a defensive act?
"I can't take it, mum. Seeing her in this pain, I can't take it. Why?" Sara cried. "Why is this my fate? Am I not meant to have a child of my own? Do you think that's what it is?" Tegan shook her head. She also could hear the mother saying no. Her heart rested at the calm words she could hear from the phone.
"Then what is it that I mess up? Why do I hurt those I love?" Tegan squeezed more. She mouthed a simple 'no' because that's all she could say. She was too tired to speak. Too exhausted to soothe someone's pain when she needed someone to soothe her own pain.
"Mum." Sara sniffled. Tegan watched her complexion closely. She studied her red nose and chapped lips. "Jack is back and he won't leave me alone. I hate this man. I hate him and I hate the way you made me feel whenever I remember that day." When their eyes met, Tegan could see there were lots of things that Sara had kept from her. "You told me it's my fault he left when I was facing the worst pain in my life." Tegan realized Sara had never told her much about that mother. "Now my wife is dealing with this and I can see the pain, I understand it. Do I understand it because I went through it or because I'm a better human than him?"
Tegan heard the mother apologizing. The sound was loud but the accent was too thick to decipher. Tegan knew the mother was French. She did not know her voice was that raspy. She did not know that this mother Sara had written about and said the harshest of comments about could be that soft when talking to the daughter who blamed her for her misery. Perhaps it was a false picture, perhaps Evelyn changed.
Tegan painted a picture of that woman. She could look like Sara. Perhaps she was as short. Brown hair. Lots and lots and lots of wrinkles. Hazel eyes, maybe? Tegan wished to see a real picture of this woman but Sara said she did not have any of her.
Sara's heart was pounding. She woke Tegan up and could not close her mouth. Her heart was gushing out all the poison like water running into a desert. The more she talked, the better she felt, but still nothing fruitful grew out of this revelation. Her mother calmed her down, her wife held her hand but something was missing.
It was just not her loss and she was the one taking the role of the martyr. She hated how selfish she felt at this particular moment.
"Out of evil there can come good, Sara." God, she knew these cheesy expressions were going to be used, but she needed them like an alcoholic sipping his last bottle of wine. "I got pregnant with you, you know, without even trying. I was a seventeen year old girl. I didn't know anything. I was innocent. I was on a trip with my family. I didn't know the language. I was barely good in English. I knew how to say yes, how to say no, how to be polite and smile." Sara had heard this story before. She was told the story first when she was sixteen. The night she had been caught having sex with Stacy. It was after she was beaten up by her father. Her mother told her the story but it was far less detailed than the second time. It was the night her mother found her naked after her miscarriage, when Jack left her and only came back a week later.
She decided to open the speakers for Tegan to hear. Her wife was too silent and too reposed.
"I didn't know this trip was going to change my life forever. I followed my mother like a little girl everywhere. Strange men looked at me in strange ways that the people in Paris never did. I don't know why. My mother always thought my green eyes allured men." Evelyn chuckled. Tegan smiled. Sara nodded. "You know the story."
"No." Sara shook her head. "Say it." She didn't want to tell her that Tegan was listening, so she said, "It makes me feel better."
"I know." Sara could feel the sudden happiness in her mother's tone. She could sense the smile. "That's why I always tell it when you are going through hard times."
"Yeah. Continue." But Sara wanted her to retell it so Tegan could hear it.
"It felt good to be hit on in the streets. I felt like a princess. A beauty queen."
"Well," Sara interrupted, "you are quite gorgeous." Who could deny that her mother had the beauty of the angels? In her teens Sara felt jealous of her mother's growing beauty. Everybody at her school questioned if she was truly her mother. She wanted to punch her guy friends for joking that way.
"I guess your father thought the same." Sara did not reply even though the mother paused. Sara's eyes met Tegan, and for the first time in hours, they both smiled. "He was just smarter, more deceiving, and more willing to enjoy his time with a beautiful woman than any other man in the street." Sara sighed.
"We were on the beach. I was wearing a lime green, one piece swimsuit and a hat to protect me from the sun. Your father was with his friends. Handsome people. He was the best looking. I did not mind a handsome man looking at me." Sara rolled her eyes and Tegan, for the first time that morning, almost laughed. "It was a dare, I discovered later, when he asked me if he could help me apply my sun cream. My mother glared at him and my dad cussed him out. I could barely understand his request to know what was going on. He was not one to give up your father."
"Sure," Sara said uninterestingly.
"He chased me to the ladies room. There was a little area where they had bathrooms. He chased me there and I was frightened. He gave me his number. I was angry. Who did he think he was? Then he said that he had never seen someone as beautiful as me and that his heart was beating for the first time. My naïve brain was taken by surprise, Sara. I fell for him with a snap. I don't know why or how but I just kissed his cheek like I've seen in the movies, took the number and ran away with my face red and my guilt rising."
"The whore genes run in the family." Sara thought it would be funny, but the mother did not laugh. "I'm just joking, mother."
"No, you're right."
"Mum, it's a joke." Sara rolled her eyes and Tegan muffled a laugh. Who knew the mother was going to do a better job than Ella?
"I called him from the hotel's phone and he picked up. I did not understand much but I understood he asked for the address. I told him the name of the hotel and he arrived there within half an hour. Of course when I called my parents were out by themselves, and so when he came they were still out. I was shitting my pants."
Sara giggled like a little kid. "This is the first time you add this part."
"Well, now I curse, don't you know?"
"Seems like you're more free without him."
"I'm discovering myself for the first time."
"Continue," Sara said when Tegan yawned. Her eyes were closing again. She wanted desperately to kiss her.
"You know the rest. I hate narrating that part. But yeah, he came. I let him in my room. He kissed me on the lips. That was the first kiss. First kiss led to first fuck."
That was the first time her mother used that word, too. Sara remained silent.
"Next thing I know I am knocked up. My parents almost killed me. We were back in France when I discovered it. We came here, called him again. I was sure he would never pick up but he did. We arranged to meet. He thought he'd only meet me, but my father and mother were there. My father threatened him. He was young, he felt scared so he told his parents. And the arrangement was to make us get married. And that's how I have you." Tegan squeezed her hand again. "Out of evil there can come good. I'm glad that I have you. If you only have the memories I have of you when you were little. How protective I was, how attached." Her mother had told her stories but she could never imagine them. She remembered some parts vaguely. She remembered how attached the mother had been. How annoyed it made her father feel. "And then when you were older we were dying to have another. Each time resulted in different kind of failure. I had three miscarriages, Sara. The worst one was when you were thirteen. You never knew I was pregnant, you never noticed. I never told you. When you were thirteen you asked me why am I gaining so much weight one time. But you didn't care to know why. It did not cross your mind. That's when you spent two weeks with Rita and Stacy. That's when I miscarried a son at 24 weeks."
Tegan's eyes became teary again and so were hers. She had never known. The shock was present on both faces and the silence was permeating in the room.
"What I want to say is that you should not worry and blame it on yourself. I got pregnant with you from the first try and when I wanted another I could not get it. And your wife might not get it from the first try but she might bring you many children in the future. It's not always the way we want but I'm more than glad that it ended up the way it did, because in these years, I discovered who your father was. Without such obstacles, I wouldn't have known how much of a terrible person he was."
Evelyn wiped her own tears. She was sitting in a coffeehouse, working on an article she was writing for a magazine. Her daughter did not know she started to publish articles now. Sara had taken her love of literature from her mother. In fact, her mother made her read history and literature books as soon as she was twelve. Sara hated that first, but soon enough she was the literature geek her mother wanted her to be. Everything Evelyn wanted; her daughter became until she developed a personality of her own in her teenage years, and discovered that life was much bigger outside the bosom of her mother.
After the call was over, the mother sipped her last bits of coffee and inhaled the smoke from the cigarette. Who was she becoming? Her daughter would be disappointed, but also smugly proud to see her doing everything she had preached against. Well it was Richard who decided what they should do with their lives and she blindly followed through because she always feared staying alone without financial aid, education, or love if he left her and her daughter.
Dozens of memories were situated in her brain. She wished she could transfer them to her daughter. She wished her daughter could see the recollections that played constantly in the back of her mind.
She remembered the first time she and Richard met their daughter after she had given birth to her earlier than the due date. Her tears were flowing because that was the first time her husband had told her he loved her. He kissed her cheek as she held the infant. She never thought that such a silly arrangement could result in love. She told him she loved him, too. Indeed she did. He was still young and nice back in 1980. They decided to call the girl Sara like her husband's mother. She was a kind lady who took care of Evelyn throughout the pregnancy.
Soon after birth Sara had become the epitome of hope and happiness in Evelyn's life. She spent her days alone in a small rental apartment taking care of her baby as her husband worked two jobs and finished college just so he could live with the new circumstances they were put in. His family was not quite rich, but it was not poor either. He was independent, however. It was a good thing because he always knew how to get money when they needed something extra for Sara.
Sexual interaction had been rare until Sara was able to sleep longer than half an hour at nights before waking up requiring to be fed. Evelyn did not ask for any sexual contact since her first time. They had sex a few more times once they were married, but it soon stopped once her body began to change during the pregnancy. She was too shy to say much and he was not one to push her past her limits in the past days. However, soon after Sara was three months old his irritation began to be vocalized. First, he groaned at night when his daughter awakened them and the wife spent the rest of the night feeding her on the mattress. Soon after, he asked Evelyn to move the baby to the nursery.
"It's why we have one, you know." Evelyn did not like that. She did not listen to him. Sara stayed sleeping beside them on the bed.
"You know, I do want to touch you at nights. Can't you at least move her to the nursery in those days?"
Evelyn could not say no so she moved the baby to her crib in the nursery, finished her business with her husband, took her pillow and went to sleep on the couch in the nursery. Looking back, she believed it was then when problems began to sprout. Perhaps it was her fault. She always distanced herself away.
But it was not her fault. She just did not love him. She said she did, but she lied to herself. Of course back then when she was eighteen she did not know she was lying to herself. To her it was just protectiveness over Sara, and part of it was; however, she really did not love him.
She met Tara and her infant Stacy in a little club she joined in the neighborhood. It was called, "Fun Mum Time." She remembered chortling when Richard got her the brochure and encouraged her to join instead of sitting alone with her six months old baby the entire day. She was still learning English. Her accent was pretty thick. She understood most things, could not pronounce them properly. Her speaking skills were getting better but they were still not perfect. Her husband and mother-in-law helped abundantly during her pregnancy, but once she had Sara, she isolated herself from social interaction until she joined the silly club where mothers gathered in Tara's house twice a week and shared parenting stories. Tara was a mother of two: Stacy and her older brother Arnold. Arnold was three and Stacy was five months old. Tara was in her late twenties, ten years older than Evelyn. She was the person who helped the youngest mother in the group most. She showed her how to properly breastfeed. Apparently she had been doing it wrong the entire time. She showed her how quickly she could put her daughter to sleep, how to multitask while carrying her daughter around.
Sara hated the formula and so the mother had a hard time convincing her to drink the milk she pumped and put in the bottle. Richard hated that part because his wife was growing more attached to the tiny human she carried around night and day, sang to, and played with; while he was left alone even at nights. She would spend the night playing around and giggling with Sara in the nursery, until they both slept on the carpeted floor after one-year-old Sara took her fair share of breast milk.
At mornings Evelyn experienced with cooking. She opened a recipe magazine and copied the exact steps. First attempts were not that successful but soon enough her meals became the reason her husband looked forward to eating dinner at home with his small family. Two-year-old Sara sat with them on the kitchen table, refusing to digest any type of mashed and squashed food in her mouth. She was old enough to chew, she had teeth. She refused to with a sudden outburst of tears and anger, however. The mother would feel bad for her; she'd take her to her room and feed her while singing the sweetest of melodies till the child fell asleep.
This pattern only made the two of them more dependent on each other. Sara could not perform the simplest of actions kids in the club Tara created did. When they played, she refused to join them unless Stacy forced her to. When they ate their snacks, she could not do that so she ran to her mother and patted her breasts. The mother would look at her friends in embarrassment before yielding to the child's needs.
When they moved to their new house, Sara fell off the stairs one morning. Evelyn almost had a heart attack looking at the scar underneath her daughter's lower lip. She cried alongside her daughter. They did not have mobile phones and she did not know what to do; therefore, she ran to Tara's house, which was only few blocks away from her home. The friend helped her clean the scar and calmed her down.
She had promised her husband she was going to stop breastfeeding Sara. However, because she felt bad for her, she decided to continue feeding her.
When Richard came back he was angry and worried he had not been informed earlier.
"We have a landline at the office, you know," he yelled at his wife. Sara was sitting on his lap. It was a rare occasion because he was not as affectionate. At times Sara squealed and clapped when he got home with a small gift for her. Other times she'd be following the mother around, acting up the same mood the mother projected. When the couple fought, Sara would hold her mother's leg and glare at her father the entire time. When they were happy, she would sit between them and pretend she understood whatever they were watching. At other rare times, when they became affectionate in front of her, she would feel jealous and would sit on her mother's lap asking to be fed. She would not give up until she was listened to.
Tara helped her potty train her daughter. She tried her best to let her go of the habit of giving in to Sara's will when she wanted to be breastfed, but there was no hope.
"She's three; she's old enough to eat. It does not look nice in front of people, Eve. It's affecting your relationship with Richard, too," Tara told her.
"I can't just let her go of it. She likes it. I can't take it away from her. I feel bad."
Slowly, Evelyn convinced her daughter to digest more food than she did milk, but she still did not cut the daily milk supply. Before falling asleep, Sara demanded to be fed. When she felt sad and happy, too.
"Your breasts look disgusting," Richard said one day when she was changing her clothes. He had never insulted her nor her body. Sara was five then. Everybody made fun of the fact she still breastfed the child. The child was made fun of in the club by other kids, too.
When Evelyn heard that comment she did not get a night's sleep. She went to Sara's room and cried in silence. Everyone wanted to detach her from her child and she hated that, but she had to stop because her husband thought she looked revolting and that was the last thing she wanted him to think. She was raised to be a proper lady and she had to act like one. She was going to raise her child as one.
She often wondered how her daughter would end up once she grew up. She hoped she could stand for herself unlike her, she hoped her kid would be smart enough to know the right and wrong unlike her, she hoped her daughter would be strong; a fighter; always ready for a fight.
Somehow, once her daughter showed signs of empowerment, Evelyn felt the conflict growing between them.
Sara opened the door for Stacy and Ella after her phone call was over. Ella held a small brown teddy bear and Stacy held a white box in her hand.
"Fresh macaroons from the oven," Stacy announced. "And Ella decided to get Tegan a teddy bear."
"Oh, thanks. Tee loves bears."
Tegan was still lying on the couch. She looked at the friend and the kid with a blank face. No smile was to be shown, no motion.
Stacy frowned. "That bad?" Sara nodded with a sigh.
The child kissed Tegan on the cheek before putting the stuffed animal in her hands. Tegan smiled faintly then hugged Ella. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. Sara had been telling her about her youth and her relationship with her mother. Sara only told her because she asked after that phone call.
When Sara was six, Evelyn had her first miscarriage. Sara was at school when it happened. The mother did not even know she was pregnant. The signs of the miscarriage were quite similar to those Tegan had faced. As soon as the mother noticed the eerie signs, she called Tara and they both went to the hospital. That day Sara spent the night with Stacy at Tara's place. Evelyn spent it at the hospital with Richard shocked and scared.
Only two days after, Evelyn was back on her feet, acting as if nothing had happened. She smothered her daughter with affection and kisses to push away the terrible feeling that dwelt in her chest.
Sara hated telling her about her days at school, so Evelyn asked the teachers. Sara often cried alone in recess or in classes. She asked for her mother the first few weeks and refused to talk to anyone other than her English teacher because her hair looked like her mother's and she played soft music that made her feel happy like her mother did. Evelyn was told about that by the principal.
The mother watched her daughter growing up, becoming more distant but more attached every day. Sometimes she found Sara asleep between her and her husband in the middle of the night, she would hug her and go back to sleep, other times Sara refused to tell her why she cried or why she was angry at something. She felt annoyed knowing her daughter resorted to bottling up her emotions.
Richard used to cut Sara's hair every two weeks to match his own hairstyle till Sara turned nine. Her mother began to fight with her about her hair and how a girl should have nice long hair. At first Evelyn blamed her husband that her daughter loved having short hair and wearing boys clothes. When Sara turned five, she got closer to Richard, which only sparked up a special kind of jealousy in Evelyn's chest that made her go against any quest her daughter sought regarding such matters that dealt with attire and looks.
"She looks like a boy. She acts like a boy. I know how these things start, Richard. I have a cousin who loves girls. That's how they start. I don't think you want your daughter to be like that, do you?" Evelyn told him in the bedroom when Sara was asleep.
"I'd disown her," he answered while his eyes focused on the television. "She can't be like that. She's my daughter and she is straight. Don't worry about her."
"She doesn't like to wear dresses," complained the mother.
"That's not a big deal. She's a child." Richard looked at his wife. "I only started to take her with me to get these haircuts and went shopping for clothes with her because I needed to bond with her. You guys were too close and I felt like I didn't know my daughter. I didn't mean for her to look like my little boy. I just didn't know what clothes girls wore. I told her what she liked and she pointed at certain things in the boys section and I felt like it was not a big deal. I didn't mean for it to be a habit. I can talk to her."
"Don't bother. I already did many times. She's such a stubborn child," answered Evelyn with a yawn. "Richard?" she asked again and her husband hummed, his attention back on the television. "You want a little boy?"
He looked at her with shock and excitement that she had never witnessed on his eyes before. They sparkled the way her daughter's did when she made her famous fruits and chocolate waffles in the morning. Right then she realized how much her little girl looked like her husband. "Yes, I wish to have one."
Evelyn had her second miscarriage few months after. It was the middle of the night. Richard woke her up and took her to the hospital. She cried on her way there. She was in her third month of pregnancy. Sara was sleeping over at Cousin Audrey's house.
Problems between Sara's parents grew thicker after that miscarriage. Richard started getting home late. He started to become angry. He criticized anything the mother and her daughter did around the house. He was also having trouble with his work. That's when they moved to a new house, a smaller one, in a cheaper area. Evelyn cried everyday that summer while reciting anguished poems. Sara looked at her from the corner of her eyes while reading the books she picked from her mother's selection.
"Mum, there's blood in my underwear," Sara blurted out with a sob one morning in the summer of 1991. Evelyn was cooking in the kitchen. She dropped her spatula and looked at her daughter with a face exchanging colors of fear, shock, and embarrassment. "It's been happening since yesterday and it keeps on increasing."
"Oh, shit. This is way too soon. I forgot this was going to happen." Sara looked at her with a blank face, teary eyes staring in wonder. "Let's um…let's go to Tara's house, she'll deal with this better than me."
Evelyn realized that she had failed in communication when she couldn't perform the simplest of tasks any mother could do when her daughter reached that age. The more time passed, the more helpless she felt.
One day a year after when they were in the pool Sara refused to wear her swimsuit or swim with everyone. She wore a big shirt and had long hair. Stacy and Audrey were already in the pool while Sara sat alone in the sun, squinting at the women in their bikinis and glaring at her mother.
When she got home, Evelyn scolded her. "It was embarrassing. Why can't you be like all the other kids? Why can't my daughter be a normal girl?"
Sara cried and shouted, "I'm not gonna wear that swimsuit. Everyone would look at me."
"Are you sick or something? Nobody would look at you."
"No, everybody already does stare at my chest in school. It's annoying. I hate it."
Then Evelyn figured it out on her own. She gasped and walked closer to her daughter. "You want a bra?" Sara did not respond. "Oh, boy. We probably should get you a bra. I forgot about that. Your breasts are getting big. I noticed that the other day but I didn't say anything because your father was around."
"Just don't go telling Aunt Tara. I can get a bra on my own."
"Why not? She can help us."
"I can help my own self. I don't need her help. It's you who needs it." And that was the first time Sara responded to her mother in a way that made Evelyn cry in her bedroom at the end of the day. She was losing her daughter. She was not following the right direction. Her daughter noticed her errors and criticized them.
Stacy narrated stories about her and Sara, her mother and Sara's mother. Surprisingly, they made Tegan chortle and giggle. She was sitting on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket. Her head rested on her wife's shoulder while she ate the fruit salad that Sara and Stacy had just prepared together. Ella was sitting next to her, eyes on the cartoon on the television. It was getting late and yawns were on each face in the room, but the atmosphere was cozy enough to make them comfortable through the hours of languor.
"Why don't you sleep over, Stace?" Sara suggested again. "We can just continue talking till we pass out. We can have some nice breakfast in the morning since it's your day off tomorrow."
"I'm not sure, Sare."
"Why not?"
"Ella…"
"Oh come on," Sara cut her off. "Stop making excuses. Ella enjoys it here and so do you."
"Yeah, stay," Tegan added. "It's nice having company here," she continued. Sara smiled at her. "It makes me forget." Sara's smile faltered.
To fight that conflict that was growing stronger each day, Evelyn decided she needed to have another kid to get off her daughter's back. She and Richard tried again and this time they were more careful.
Sara was twelve, almost thirteen in a month but she did not know nor notice that her mother was pregnant. She noticed the sudden changes in the relationship of her mother and father. They were more affectionate than before. They giggled and joked. Her mother's face grew red when he whispered something in her ears as they sat together to watch a movie. Such actions disturbed Sara. It was some type of sensation that she could not decipher, she hated to think that it was jealousy but part of it was.
She watched her mother gain weight and getting more beautiful each day. She still did not notice her mother had been pregnant. Evelyn did not tell anybody. She only told Tara and Richard. She wore big clothes and it was hard to notice because she was a petite women. Everybody thought she was gaining weight, even Sara.
"Why do you like to hide your nice figure underneath these baggy hoodies, honey?" Evelyn was tidying up her daughter's closet while Sara did her homework on the bed. The mother noticed how her daughter's sense of style had not changed since she was young. She always hid behind big androgynous clothes. "Now you have bras, so what's the excuse?"
Sara rolled her eyes and huffed in irritation. "I hate my body."
"Why?" asked Evelyn in shock.
"I just do." Sara shrugged.
"You're nice and petite. You have a feminine body."
"Exactly. I have a woman's body. I hate that. I hate my breasts. They're big. None of the girls at school have such breasts." Evelyn laughed. "Plus, you're doing the same now. You're hiding how much you gained weight under big clothes, you don't get to talk." Evelyn laughed again.
Sara and Stacy were curious teenagers. Whenever they visited each other, they watched R rated movies that were placed in a PG-rated movie box. Stacy was sneaky and smart. She would steal the films from her brother so she and Sara would watch secretly. Of course they only took the chance when the mothers were too busy to notice.
They blushed at the heavy kissing scenes, the nudity, the sex scenes and vulgar language. They had lots of questions and they did not mind asking them.
"How is it nice to have sex?" Sara wondered loudly. "It's just a penis going into a vagina and, like, where's the magic? That's creepy."
"Well, they have to make babies," Stacy answered as if she had given her friend the best answer; the perfect solution. "What I don't get is that why do they make noises?"
"I heard it hurts," Sara said.
"I just can't imagine it."
"I could understand kissing, though. It must be nice." Stacy raised her eyebrows. Sara's face turned red. "I've never kissed anyone." She shrugged.
"You're kidding."
"I'm not." Giggled Stacy. "Who did you kiss?"
"Owen in grade five. He kissed me in the playground."
"Eww." Sara's face scrunched up in disgust. "He's disgusting." She paused then sighed, looking dreamily at the screen. "Why am I even talking? Nobody likes to kiss me. I don't even like to kiss these boys."
"I can kiss you, Sara." Sara looked at her with furrowed brows. Stacy shrugged. "I'm your friend. I can show you how it feels. A lot of friends practice these things together for, like, the real deal, you know. Kissing, sex, you know. Of course I don't mean sex, but I think I can use some practice-kissing."
And that's how Stacy and Sara became closer. It started with a kiss; however this kiss was devoid of all feelings on Sara's part. She enjoyed it, she liked it, she wanted more, but she did not feel any type of spark. She was kissing her best friend and that was a major turn on, period.
Through Evelyn's pregnancy, Richard showed a great amount of care and affection towards his wife, which only made Sara depart herself more from her parents. She still did not know her mother was carrying but she sensed the peculiar change in the mood whenever she was around them. They talked in riddles and whispered abundantly that she thought they were going to move.
It's not that Evelyn did not want to tell Sara about the new baby, she just wanted it to be a surprise because just a year before Sara had asked her why she didn't have any sibling. Evelyn was excited that she could not ever imagine her terrible fate. She miscarried a boy at six months.
She had had a fever that morning before she drove Sara to school. She came back and had breakfast. She called her husband and informed him that she felt her entire body going numb. Since Richard was stuck at work, Rita came to see what was happening. It was a little bit too late because Evelyn, just like her daughter many years after, had begun the miscarriage.
It was a rough time for the family. Sara was not told at all. Tara kept the child in her house for two weeks while the parents got through their loss. It was hard for Sara because she was sure something was happening around her, secrets were kept from her, the distance was widening between her and her mother. She spent those days kissing Stacy and daydreaming about the boy she had a crush on. However, her heart thumped and drummed for her mother.
Sara was told that her parents were trying to reconcile their conflicts and issues. When she went back home, her mother was cold and angry. Whenever Sara said something, her mother responded with a comment that would hurt the teenage girl. The parents fought again to an extent that made Sara run away to Stacy's house in the middle of the night two times without getting caught.
In 1994, when both girls were fourteen, Sara's grandmother died, so her parents visited Paris for the funeral. Stacy spent too much time with Sara, watching their films and discovering each other's bodies. When they were fourteen, they lost their virginity to each other.
Everything changed after that because Sara began to notice the differences in her body and in her sexuality. Life was confusing; life was not quite fun anymore. Her parents were her worst rivals and sex was the most preferable escaping method. If sex was not available, she relied on masturbation. She discovered many things about herself that scared her. She loved touching her body and she loved touching Stacy's. She also loved kissing men and loved when they touched her skin. She was changing and her mannerisms were changing.
"I received some complaints from your school today," Evelyn informed her daughter over dinner when she was fifteen. Richard was working late that evening. "I didn't want to tell your dad so he wouldn't yell at you."
Sara rolled her eyes (a habit she was using more often now). "About what?" she asked, even though she already knew.
"Skipping classes, hiding in bathrooms. Some teacher said she saw you making out with a boy in the bathroom. Sara, you know better than this." No, she did not. She was never given the talk. She had never thought of pregnancy. She had never been advised about such matters. She did whatever Stacy and Audrey did, even if she was not comfortable with what she was doing. She knew sex resulted in pregnancy, but she was not even having sex with boys yet. She did not think about that, in fact. Her knowledge about sex was summed up from the people she was surrounded by, the movies she watched, and the books she read.
"That's a lie. I don't have a boyfriend. I don't kiss guys. I did escape classes because they were boring." Sara got up. She wanted to hint at something that her mother failed to understand.
She always wanted to give clues about her sexuality until she heard her father cursing homosexuals one day while they were watching a movie with a gay couple. The father got angry and changed the channel. Since then, Sara began to despise her father even more than the time he slapped Evelyn after a heated argument over dinner. That was only a few months after the miscarriage. Since then, Sara hated sitting around her parents, especially her stubborn, angry father.
"I love it when you lick my tits," Sara whispered to her friend when they were in Sara's bedroom. Sara's parents were in the house. This was a risk the girls only took two times and this was the third. Sara could not resist not to be touched because it had been awhile.
Stacy bit on one nipple, which caused Sara to scream. "Fuck, oh my God." She giggled and screamed again when her friend bit on the other nipple. Just then her father burst inside and that's when Sara was caught by her father.
It was one of Sara's most terrifying moments. The wrath that fell down upon her made her shake for days. The father did not only scream, shout, ban her from going out; he also blamed the mother for not being able to properly raise her daughter. That night, after the chaos and the cries, Evelyn slept beside Sara. It had been a long while since the mother last did that. Evelyn did not close an eye till dawn. She cried silently because her daughter had faced the cruelest type of punishment and heard the harshest words from the father. She remembered herself, only two years older than Sara when she had done that mistake with a man. A part of her wondered whether their reaction would have been different if Sara was found with a guy.
She stayed up all night and worried about her daughter's future. Could it be? Her daughter was gay? How was she going to live with that? How was homophobic Richard going to live with that? What about Stacy? She had to tell Tara, was that going to ruin their friendship?
Tara was way more understanding. Stacy told her what had happened before Evelyn could in the morning. Tara assumed it's a phase and the girls were trying to discover themselves, Evelyn was horrified. She took Sara to the gynecologist; she could not believe her because Richard was sure his daughter had been sleeping around. The mother was afraid her daughter had an STD—Richard said she probably did. Sara's life was suddenly caged by both of her parents. Her mother, to her, was the stupid loser who followed without thinking; therefore, Sara began to be as rude as possible to her mother. As Sara attacked, the mother attacked back with a bigger force for the two remaining years until Sara left the house at eighteen with a huge argument about her sexuality.
"I fucking love girls, you don't like that, I don't give a fuck. Go tell your husband that. Tell him I failed you. Tell him how right he was about me; tell him you regret all the love and affection you gave me because apparently it only made me gay." Evelyn slapped her daughter. "Fuck you," Sara screamed. "Don't hit me. I'm just using his words. The words he's putting into your stupid, uneducated brain." Evelyn slapped her again.
"I'm your mother. Don't talk to me like that," shouted Evelyn.
"You're not. You don't love me. You quit being my mother once you realized I'm everything you didn't want."
The argument went on for days until Sara took her suitcases and went to college. Sara did not contact her parents for a year and a half and they did not contact her, as well. Evelyn secretly checked on her through Stacy. Later on, they made up only because Tara insisted that this rift should come to an end. However, things were never as they used to be with Sara and her parents because her father insisted that she did not deserve any love or care from him for her ill behavior. The mother, on the other hand, only strengthened her bond with her daughter when Jack was in the picture. Once Jack was out, after that night in the bathroom, Sara realized her mother was not in control of her actions, her words, or even her behavior due to the man she was married to. Sara took the decision to be as far away as possible from such a destructive environment in order to be able to live.
And now that Evelyn had woken up and saw the change that had occurred with time like cavity destroying good, white teeth, she realized that the best years of her life was those when Sara was an infant—when she breastfed her and sang to her, when she daydreamed about her gladiator daughter, her superwoman, strong daughter. Now that she could see, she realized her dream had come true. She had the strongest daughter any mother would wish to have, a being that sacrificed so much to earn so little, someone who lost more than they gained and yet they remained standing on two feet, chin up high and heart beating with hope and love. The daughter she dreamed about when she was eighteen was the daughter she had now, and she couldn't be more proud.
Maybe, I've never told you this, but you have no idea how proud I am of you.
Sara read the text message loudly and Tegan cried softly on her lap. Stacy smiled, while Ella slept on the couch.
"I'm proud of you, too," whispered Tegan.