There are many little ways in which Goliath drew power to itself.
Mary didn’t drive. Many people refuse to drive, they’re afraid. To me, her decision was strategic in nature. Why drive and be self-reliant when you can pull more strings as a helpless mother? Someone would have to cater to her dependent state. Mary was anything but helpless. As an observer, I noted how she controlled her marriage by playing the victim wife. Yes, she played that role. It’s one thing to be a victim; it’s another thing to enjoy it – control.
Aries’ sixteenth year was generally tumultuous aside from the odd rainbow here and there. One such rainbow came in the form of a boy from school named John, and they began dating.
Settling down for a coffee one evening, Mary confided in me about Aries. A habitual knee-bouncer, I’ve never known Mary to sit still. The bouncing was made prominent by her worried tone.
‘There’s something wrong with Aries.’ Bounce–bounce went her knee, eyes shifted from me to the floor, to her mug and back up to me again.
I kept my relationship with Aries deep in my heart, sheltered from the world outside, protected from Goliath. I was not about to share a damn thing with Mary about it. Aries was safe, she was not suicidal. Yes, she carried an unspoken sadness, this much was evident. I never questioned her about it, I knew it had to do with me.
I ventured, ‘Aries’ a teenager, she’s private, just like any other sixteen year old.’
Mary sounded sure, ‘No, there’s something wrong, there’s something more. Do you think I should read her diary?’ I nearly choked. First of all - no, second of all, diary - what diary? I hadn’t fathomed Aries kept a diary. She and I wrote pages daily, when did she have time to pen a diary? Mary was talking crazy, an invasion of privacy, trespassing.
‘No, I don’t think you should do that. If you’re worried, just have a talk with her, she loves you. If there’s anything wrong she’ll tell you, you’re her mother.’ I couldn’t believe I was actually having this conversation with her.
‘Has she said anything to you?’ Suspicion, hazel eyes bearing through, searching for a twitch perhaps, a betrayal of truth found in the glimpse of my eye?
‘No. About what? Mary, honestly, I think she’s fine.’ Silence, sip-sip, bounce-bounce, and the conversation ended.
Returning the next day, I entered Aries’ room, she was sitting on the bed facing the door, facing me. Her ochre eyes, red and teary. Inside them an ember burned, a flame. Anger, defiance.
Her lips quivered, an attempt at restraint, ‘My mother read my diary last night. She came to me today so we could ‘talk’ about it.’ Violated, she felt violated, maybe even used.
‘What? Why - why did she do that?’ I was not only shocked, I was confused.
‘She told me you told her she should do it.’ Her eyes were pleading, flaming arrows in waiting.
Awareness...Bitch.
Behold, he travails with wickedness, and he conceives mischief, and brings forth falsehood. He has dug a pit and hollowed it out, and he has fallen into the hole which he made. Psalm 7:14,15
The end is near.
No, seriously, the end is near, likely the next blog or two.
Continued on Thursday June 23rd 2011
Until then, I remain yours,
Lesley
Hallelujah Heartist
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