This is a Fiction piece written in response to the prompt on a website I love, The Red Dress Club.
I continued with a character I introduced in Slaughter on Park Lane. The prompt was: This week we asked you to write a post beginning with the words, “This was absolutely the last time” and ending with “She was wrong.”
This was absolutely the last time I would hear her melodious voice calling through the narrow hallways of my childhood home. My hands stopped packing in mid-air, my body stilled as I leaned over the suitcase a smile beginning as I heard her sing “oh Macy-my-baby, where are you?”.
Without conscious thought I responded happily, “over-here-Mama-dear”, in a sing song way as I placed the last pile of clothes in the case. Straightening I glanced around my bedroom, one last look to make certain I had all of the mementos I would need to begin my new life. The few photos I had packed were of my parents, this new life wouldn’t include the “friends” who had deemed me an outsider all these years. I could have a new identity; there was no past to be shamed by. With a deep breath I whispered, “A fresh start” as I picked up the suitcase and brought it to the front door.
In the future when that dreaded phone call came, my mind would be pulled back to this moment, to the familiar feeling of love. The sound of my mother’s rich voice singing, her vibrant energy shining out of her beautiful face as I entered the kitchen. Walking to me she opened her arms wide and gathered me into her comforting embrace.
There was something about my mother, Jacqueline DeRose, something too unique and elusive to deny. Men adored her, her natural, sensual charisma was enchanting, drawing them unaware into her web easily. More often than not women avoided her; speaking behind their hands to one another with narrowed gazes as she entered the room. To me this seductive creature was my world. She didn’t just bring me life; she breathed joy into me daily.
Within her ample arms anything was possible; so often her words trickled over my soul, lifting me to soar above the reproach of the community.
We had come this far together as a family in defiance of the judgement which hadn’t weakened at all over the years. No matter how happy our family was, how generous and friendly my parents were, the community seemed to live by the motto “once a whore always a whore”. They weren’t shy about letting me know their opinions of me either.
I couldn’t count the number of times I’d leaned into my mother’s embrace crying tears over the hateful words, draining myself of the venom they seemed to inject into me. Within those arms I could purge it all, and gently my mother would replace it with her soft love. Each time she would replace the word “bastard” with words that reflected my true self, the self whom both she and my father adored.
This day was no different as I stood taller than my bewitching mother she cupped my face in her hands and stared into my eyes. Smiling she said “Now is your time my baby, you go and show them who Macy-my-baby really is”.
Tears filled my eyes, I looked away from her amber eyes as I began to protest, “But I need you..”
Wiping a tear from my cheek she raised my chin and said “You’re ready my love, you don’t need me for this and your father and I will always be here”.
With a brief hug I went to the front door, retrieved my case and with one last look at her I walked towards where my father was waiting in the car. Waving from the door her voice sang to me “We will always be with you.”