Free The Lovely Shadow by Cory Hiles

her sympathies enough to let me
out, but the thought of actually asking her to help me left a
metallic taste in my mouth and set my emotional dial to ‘pissed
off’.
    I sighed deeply and made my way back down the
stairs. I plopped down on my back on my mattress and crossed my
hands upon my breast and stared up at the cobwebs in the rafters. I
knew I had to think about my relationship with my mother, in light
of the fact that I now understood that she was crazy, but I didn’t
want to. I knew that things would never be the same between us, and
I wasn’t sure I ready to face that.
    I decided to think of other things. I tried
to visualize Joe’s face and remember all the times he’d tickled me
to tears, or ruffled my hair while saying “What’s up, Squirt?” But
those memories just made me sadder and lonelier than I’d ever felt
in my life.
    I lay there mourning my brother for a while,
shuddering with the force of my tears, but making sure to cry
silently. I could not bear the idea of my mother hearing me cry,
giving her the impression that she’d somehow defeated me.
    The conscious knowledge that I didn’t want
her to hear me, and the reason why, forced the issue of my mother
back into the front of my mind, so I quickly pushed it away again
by thinking about Katelyn, my mother’s only friend before I was
born.
    I had never actually met Katelyn. According
to Joe, the morning after I was conceived my mother called Katelyn
and let her have it with both barrels. She blamed her for leaving
her at the bar unattended. She accused her of setting up the whole
encounter with my father. She called her every filthy name she
could remember, and made up a few new ones, just for good
measure.
    She made sure Katelyn was well aware that she
was no longer considered a friend, and threatened her with bodily
harm if they were ever to cross paths again. I marveled that if my
mother was that upset the morning after the encounter with my
father, she must have really gone nuts when she discovered she was
pregnant.
    That line of thinking, of course, dragged my
mother back into the light of my conscious thinking and I decided
that I must finally surrender my mind to the ugliness that had come
between my mother and me.
    I considered my mother’s illness first. She
was insane. She couldn’t help that. I should be forgiving, but as I
lay locked, nearly naked, in the darkness of the basement with a
bruised body, sore ear, and swollen fingers, I found forgiveness to
be beyond my reach.
    I knew in my heart that I should be
empathetic, but I also figured it wasn’t going to happen, so I
figured I should try to understand exactly how I was responding. I
didn’t have to think long before I understood that I was angry. Not
simply angry, but really, really pissed.
    I had never done anything to her to deserve
the treatment I received from her—never. I had loved her
unconditionally, accepted her tortures, and forgiven her countless
times as I tried to win her affection. I decided that I was not
going to do that anymore. I was done being the victim.
    I chewed on my anger for a bit and tried to
imagine a way to get even with my mother, but quickly realized that
I didn’t want to get even, I just wanted to get away. I had no
intention of letting her torture me anymore and would do whatever I
had to do to stop her in the future, but I didn’t want her to
suffer, I didn’t want her to be paid back misery for misery.
    That line of thinking led me to wonder about
my feelings for my mother; whether or not I still loved her. I
guessed that I did still love her, but I was never going to trust
her again. I no longer wanted her to love me; I only wanted her to
leave me.
    I figured that she would let me out of the
basement soon enough, and when she did I would leave. I had no idea
where I would go, but I figured anywhere would be better than her
home had been of late.
    As I came to peace with the fact that I still
loved my mother, but didn’t like her, and