Harp's Song (14 page)

I’m suddenly breathless and need air. Fast. I sprint from the couch to the front door and find myself outside on my knees grasping for air. I don’t want to hear the rest. I don’t need to hear the rest to know what she’s saying. I’m trying to comprehend everything she’s told me so far, but from what I can gather, my mom was a decent human being once. A talented musician and she was raped by her almost brother-in-law. She was raped at seventeen and became pregnant with me.

Oh.My.God.

I’m really trying hard to understand this when I feel arms wrap around me and a calming voice hushing me, telling me everything is going to be ok. I blink back tears I didn’t realize were rushing down my face and notice my mother is cradling me in her arms, soothing me while I digest this information. She rocks me and tells me that it’s ok, and that it will be ok. I finally calm myself down enough to pull away and look at her.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, “why don’t you come inside and I’ll make us some tea.”

I shake my head in agreement and we both pull ourselves up from the front yard and go to the kitchen. I immediately sit at the table while my mom puts water on to boil. While we wait, I stare out the window. I’m still shocked by everything she’s told me, and I am pulled out of my thoughts when she sits at the table and hands me a cup of tea.

“Thanks,” I say taking a small sip. It is very soothing but I don’t think it’s going to be enough to help me handle this news.

“Harp, do you have questions for me or do you want me to tell you more?”

“Did you ever go to college?” I ask her.

“Unfortunately, no, I never made it to Vanderbilt nor did I get a degree anywhere else.”

“Do you regret that?”

“Yes and no. I did for a long time, which is why I lost my mind when I found your acceptance to Oberlin.”

“So you’re jealous of me?”

“As lame as it sounds, yes. I was so jealous I couldn’t see straight. I couldn’t believe my daughter was going to go live out her dreams and I never got that chance. And then I was mad, mad at myself, at you, at
him
and the universe. But, I’m not jealous or mad anymore. I know that sounds silly since it hasn’t been very long, but it’s the truth,” she says convincingly.

“Why are you telling me all this now?” I ask her.

She sighs, “Because your words hit me after our last fight. You were right about everything you said. I made a decision a long time ago—to bury what happened and never think about it again—but it didn’t work, and I’ve been living a shell of a life … bitter, angry, depressed and jealous.”

“When you told me that you made the decision to live a better life, I saw how wonderful and strong you were. And, how right you were. Since I’ve been getting help, I realized that I couldn’t blame you for the choices I made. What happened to me was not my choice, obviously. However, everything I have done after that was … those were my decisions. I’m done being the victim and blaming everyone else for my lot in life. It’s not fair to you or to me.”

“Why didn’t you get an abortion and go to college? You were only a teenager, it would have been understandable.”

“You go straight for the hard ones, huh?”

“Once I’d taken a home pregnancy test, I went to the clinic and got another one, which came back positive. At that point, I was just about eight-weeks pregnant and I only had one week left before I was supposed to leave for Vanderbilt. I was getting ready to ask the nurse to schedule me for an abortion when I saw you on the screen. She pushed a button and suddenly I could hear your heartbeat. It sounded like the thunder of a galloping horse,” she says.

I can see unshed tears in her eyes as she remembers that day. She looks right at me and says, “I know it’s hard to imagine now after how badly I’ve treated you, but that day I fell in love with you. That was the most beautiful music I had ever heard … more beautiful than Bizet, Mozart, Telemann, Handel, Vivaldi, even Beethoven … all of it. And that’s when I knew I loved you and wanted you.”

“But you didn’t want me, you’ve been horrible to me. I’ve spent so much time being afraid, and hating you. I would have been better off not being here or at least adopted into another family. Anything would have been better than living with you.” I spew at her. I don’t give a shit about her happy moment all those years ago. It doesn’t mean anything to me knowing what a crappy mother she’s been when I needed her.

“I know, Harp. I know. It’s hard to understand now, I get that, but it’s the truth.”

“So, what happened after that appointment? Did you tell your parents and they kicked you out? What? I still don’t understand how you went from Chicago to Iowa.”

“I left that appointment with vitamins and pamphlets and went to a park by my house. I sat there and read all the pamphlets. I was there for hours trying to figure out what to do. After all that time, I narrowed it down to two choices. I could tell my parents the truth about what happened, and take a year off from school to be with you. Or, I could hide the pregnancy and continue with my plans to attend Vanderbilt and eventually give you up for adoption.”

“Those were your two choices?”

“I didn’t say they were good ones, did I? Besides I was young and hormonal.”

“I guess so, how did you end up here then? Those two options don’t sound like they would put you in a random town in Iowa.”

“When I left the park, I went home and decided to tell my parents what happened that day with Alex, and that I was pregnant. Ginny was there talking about wedding stuff with my Mom. I was hoping to avoid telling her for as long as possible but …,” she trails off before continuing, “Everyone was sitting at the kitchen table and I thought about chickening out. However, I knew the best thing for us was to have their support. So, I summoned all the courage I could and announced that I had something important to talk to them about. They gave me their undivided attention, and I prepared them—that what I was about to tell them was really hard for me. I remember sitting at that table freaking out, telling my family that my sister’s fiancée—someone everyone loved—raped me.

“I was getting ready to tell them I was pregnant with you when my sister started screaming at me. She was crying and yelling at me, calling me a liar. I couldn’t believe she was siding with him over me. Never in my life had I lied to my family. I was straightforward and quiet, so it never occurred to me that she wouldn’t believe me. I looked between my parents for help. My Dad was crying and my Mom looked like she was in shock. After Ginny settled down, my Mom held her hand and looked at me. She told me to my face that she didn’t believe me. She said she thought I was acting out against Ginny, and that it was a disgrace that I couldn’t be happy for my sister. She brought up Alex’s family and the fact that he was going to be a lawyer, so there was no way he would have done something like this. I looked to my Dad and begged him to believe me. He nodded his head and squeezed my hand. I felt relieved that someone was standing up for me. I started to tell them I was pregnant, but things quickly got out of hand and my dad sent me to my room so he could calm Ginny down. I heard them all talking and fighting for hours about what to do, and whether or not they believed me. After Ginny left, the house was so quiet. I lay in my bed praying they would believe me.”

“A little while later when my Dad came in my room, he sat on my bed with me and hugged me close. I could feel his shoulders rocking and knew he was crying. When we pulled apart, he wiped the tears from my face and looked down. That moment I knew he was siding with them. When he looked back up at me, all he said was ‘I’m sorry’. I was so hurt I started sobbing hysterically. He held me until I fell asleep,” she says bringing herself back from the fog of her memory.

“That morning I knew they wouldn’t love me anymore and they wouldn’t love you, so I did the only thing I could. I left. I packed clothes, food and necessities into my car and left them a letter explaining that I was leaving since they were going to believe him over me—and I was obviously not wanted anymore.”

“I stopped at the bank on my way out of town. When my grandparents passed away, a large chunk of the money they had left was put into a savings fund for each of us girls. I took my money out, enough for a down payment on this house, and got in the car. I didn’t want to go anywhere where someone would recognize me. I also didn’t want to go somewhere expensive, so I looked at the map and settled on Iowa. Once I got into the state, I looked at the map again and found Liberty. I was drawn to it because of the name. I thought it would be a good place for us to start over and become a family … just you and me.”

We sit in silence for a little while. I’m not sure what I want to ask her next. I’m confused by the love she says she had for me when she was pregnant. But, I’m also angry. Maybe if she had stuck it out with her family, and tried to talk to them again, they would have helped us. Then I wouldn’t feel so broken and alone.

“Do they know about me?”

“Yes. In the letter I explained that I was pregnant, and their decision to choose Alex over me meant that I had no choice but to protect my baby.”

“Have you had any contact with them since then?”

She shakes her head, “I went back for Ginny’s wedding a few months before you were born. I found the announcement in the paper and I wanted to see with my own eyes that they had chosen him over me. I went to the church and sat in my car, watching everyone go in. I saw my Dad and Ginny right outside the doors with big smiles on their faces. I sat in my car until they came out and I could see Alex. I watched them, surrounded by family and friends. I saw how happy everyone was and then I became angry. I should have never gone back,” she says determinedly.

“When I left it was my decision. I knew they didn’t believe what he had done to me but in reality, my Dad never said I had to leave. I think they expected me to just forget about it and go to school like nothing had happened, but there was no way I could do that.”

“Then seeing my family at the church was a totally different feeling. I felt like they were glad I had left and had never been happier—without me there. It looked like their lives had moved on just fine and I became even angrier until it overwhelmed me. I drove back here that night and was a wreck. I cried for days … I missed work. I just couldn’t let go of the anger and hurt.”

“So that’s why you hate me so much?”

“I know you’re not going to believe me,” she sighs. “But I don’t hate you. When you were born, I felt like I was on a teeter-totter with my emotions swinging me one way one minute and another way the next minute. But then you came into this world. You were this beautiful, pink, delicate little angel. Do you know why I named you Harp?”

I shake my head no. We’ve never talked to each other like this before so how can I know this?

“After you were born, I couldn’t believe you were really here. When I got to hold you for the first time, you made this high pitched squeal that was so angelic I thought it sounded like a harp. I said that word over and over, and every time you responded with a light noise, so I decided that would be your name,” she says with a serene smile on her face.

I don’t get her. My whole life I’ve heard horrible things from this woman and made my own way. Raised myself, but now she’s sitting here telling me this simple, lovely story about the day I was born and I don’t know how to navigate all the things I’m feeling.

“What happened?” I ask her, “It sounds like you loved me at some point. I don’t understand what changed.”

She shakes her head in agreement, “I’ve always loved you despite not showing it. When I left the hospital, I was full of hope. After a while, sleepless night after sleepless night, I realized how hard it was to raise a baby. Let’s be honest, it’s hard no matter what, but, at eighteen, with no support system, it felt impossible. My emotions were frayed and you were the cause.”

“My anger toward Alex and my family was bubbling just under the surface. Even though I kept trying to suppress it, and remind myself that you were innocent in this whole thing—it was just too overwhelming. As you got older, you looked more and more like him. Unfortunately, you became a constant reminder of him and what he’d done. I couldn’t let it go … I kept it close to the surface. I used it like an armor protecting my heart from ever showing you just how much I loved you. I thought if I caved and let that love take over, it would be like forgiving him for what he had done to me. And in some weird way choosing him over me … just like my family had done.”

“So, what, instead you decided to make me miserable just like you? To treat me like a worthless kid you had to tolerate? Do you know how many times you told me I ruined your life?” I can’t stop the venom flowing from my mouth. I look at her with such anger and hate waiting for her to answer me.

“Yes.”

I don’t know what to do with that answer. I thought for sure she would feed me some line of bullshit, but no, she told the truth—the simple, hard truth.

“So, misery loves company? Is that it?”

“Sadly, yes. You have to hear me when I tell you how sorry I am for doing that to you. I cringe thinking about the things I’ve said to you and the things I’ve done. I’m not proud of the way I’ve behaved. I don’t even know how you can stand to call me mom. In no way, except providing basic necessities, have I been a mother to you,” she says crying again. “Harp, I’m so sorry … you were an innocent in this whole thing and I love you.”

Neither one of us speaks. I look out the window and marvel at the pink and purple hues invading the sky. It reminds me of how much I loved the color pink when I was a little girl. I think of a time in my life before things became complicated, before I realized my mom wasn’t like other moms. A time when I didn’t isolate myself from everyone around me. I acknowledge now that that was a survival technique—a way for me to preserve myself from getting hurt by anyone else. As long as the only one doing the hurting was my mom, I could handle everything else that came my way.

Once it’s dark outside and I have absorbed as much of what she’s telling me as I can. I look at her. She’s looking right at me and I take a moment to trace her features with my eyes, since I rarely get a chance to look at her like this. She’s so strikingly beautiful it makes me sad to see what’s become of her. The wear and tear from years of stress and loneliness are evident around her eyes, but all things considered she’s still gorgeous. I’m glad she’s gotten help and is continuing to get help, but I don’t know what she wants from me after hearing all this, so I break the silence first.