4

"Oh, is that what you wanted" Well , I’m sorry. I’m sorry you didn’t get your wish. Maybe you’re right. Maybe you would be happier if I were the one who died, but it didn’t work out that way. So you’re going to have to put up with me for the rest of my life."

"Well then, let’s hope it’s a short one."

"Go to your room. I don’t want to see you for a long time."

"Fine by me."

I turned my head in utter disgust. One of a million memories of hatred. But not hatred of her toward me. Only me toward her. I wanted her to know that I hated her, and I made sure to burn it into her skull every single day of the year. And not a night went by that I didn’t hear her crying into her pillow. Crying to my father and asking him to give her the strength to get to my heart so she could be a mother to me again. Every night when I heard this it made me want to destroy her more.

When I was old enough, I moved to New York. I wanted to get as far away from her as my money could take me. I lived there until I was thirty-five. A job transfer brought me back to New Bedford only three weeks ago. No sooner did I arrive did the fights start. It was the same old topic starting out the same old way and ending with the same old phrases. "I hate you" seemed to be the only three words I said consistently to her. She ran off crying, and I haven’t talked to her since.

My pain never went away. It only got worse. Too many bad memories quickly surfaced. My heart was racing. all I wanted to do was get to my mother before I lost the chance to tell her what had always been in my heart, but that I had been too angry over my father’s death to tell her. I used my mother as a scapegoat for my pain and suffering. My need to be with my mother pushed my foot straight down on the gas pedal. My car sped off, and I convinced myself that if I were too late, my life would be put into question.

"I hate you. I wish I were never bon. You’re not my mother. Why couldn’t you have been in the car instead of him? You’re not my boss. Who do you think you are? My mother? I have no mother. I hate you. I hate you! I hate you!!?

"All those nasty things I said to her. Why? Why? Why? Why do I have to realize this now when she’s on her death bed? Why? Why now?"

My eyes got a little foggy and slowly the tears began to fall. I quickly reached over to grab some tissues.

"No, I have to be strong for her."

But I couldn’t stop them. They just kept rolling off my cheeks. Stop. Damn you. Stop!