THIS Is Me... (2 page)

  Most days I wondered why she liked me.
  I loved everything about my grandma- I really did.  And I especially loved her name.  Strangely, my grandma's first name was Thomas.  There is some long, funny family story about her father losing a bet the night she was born, and so he had to honor the bet by naming his first child Thomas, regardless if it was a boy or girl.  Apparently, my great-grandfather was a man of his word, so when my beautiful grandma was born, she became Thomas Montgomery, to the humor of everyone, grandma Tommy included.
  And when my mother had me, my grandfather forced my mother to stick with the family tradition of naming their girls 'boy’ names.  Not that it was much of a tradition seeing as my mother is Elizabeth, but whatever, maybe it just skipped a generation.
  My grandfather made my mother name me after my grandma, Thomas Montgomery-Hampton, and so I was named Thomas Suzanne Beaumont, which I love because of my beautiful grandma Tommy. 
  I always wanted to be beautiful like my grandma, and I ALWAYS wanted to be called Tommy like my grandma was, but I was never beautiful like her, and I was NEVER called Tommy.  God, my mother hated my name even though it was her mother's name.
  Of course, my mother wouldn't hear of me being called Tommy.  Actually, I don't recall my mother ever calling me by my full name- stopping only at Suzanne Beaumont, even when she was angry at me. 
  When other kids had their full three, sometimes four names yelled, or spoken harshly to them by an angry parent, I always felt strange when I heard it- almost sad or something.  Just once I wanted my mother to yell 'Thomas Suzanne Beaumont get back here', or 'shut your mouth Thomas Suzanne Beaumont' or whatever it was she yelled at me at the time, but she never did.  Never, ever, did I get to hear my full three names yelled at me. 
  I realize now as an adult it's such a stupid thing to remember or to have cared about.  But at the time, I was sad that I couldn't be Thomas or Tommy like my grandma was. 

  God, I wanted to be just like her when I grew up.  I wanted to be beautiful, strong, Tommy, who everybody loved.  I wanted to be exactly like my grandma, but I never was.  I was always just Suzanne.
  I remember when my beautiful, charming, elegant grandma Tommy died, I actually felt heartbroken.  I know everyone is sad and maybe even a little desperate when someone they love dies.  Maybe a young girl feels extra sad when her grandma dies, but with me, it hurt so bad I couldn't breathe right for months.
  I remember crying incessantly.  I remember I couldn't stop crying, no matter how many dirty looks I received from my mother.  My mother told me I was embarrassing her with all the drama and hysterics.  My mother even threatened to have a doctor give me medication to calm me down at the funeral if I didn't stop acting so 'inappropriately'.  But I just couldn't stop.
  I remember how much I hated my mother during the initial days after my grandma suddenly died.  She was just so cold about HER OWN MOTHER!  It was shocking to me that she never cried or even looked sad at all about grandma Tommy dying.
  I couldn't stop crying from one moment to the next, but my mother didn't even cry once.  At least not that I saw.  Actually, I'm sure of it because I don't think my mother
can
cry.
  Oh!  I remember a conversation between my mother and grandfather- that's right!  My grandfather asked my mother 'if she was even
bothered
by her mother's death?' I remember my mother laughed and asked, 'why would I be?'  I remember my grandfather's pale face and I remember my mother's vicious smile.  And that's when I knew my mother could care less that her very own mother was dead. 
  My beautiful, charming, elegant grandma Tommy was dead, and my mother laughed.  Wow!  How could I forget that? 

  Anyway, I was thirteen when she died, and everything seemed to change for me then.

  I remember my grandfather wanting me to sit beside him in the front row at the funeral, but my mother refused to let me.  And when I tried to protest I received 'the look' from her, and that was it.  I didn't say another word.
  So I sat beside my mother while hundreds of people talked to her, and sometimes even to my father about the wonderful, charming, stunning Tommy Montgomery-Hampton.  My mother smiled and nodded, and even indulged in light laughter about some wonderful thing my grandma did over the years, but NEVER did she cry.
   I did though. 
  Actually once the tears began, I couldn't stop them, no matter what I did, or thought of.  I pictured good things and even yummy things, but nothing worked.  No matter how hard I tried to stop, I just sat there and cried and cried. 
  I know I looked ugly, and I KNOW my mother was totally embarrassed by me, but I couldn't stop.  I even remember my father leaning over tenderly with a tissue and telling me to 'knock it off' in my ear while smiling at me gently in front of the large crowd of people who attended the funeral.  But I just couldn’t stop sobbing.
  Finally, midway through the ceremony my mother gently placed her hand on my knee to comfort me
I thought
, until slowly I felt her fingernails dig into my skin.  Harder and harder she dug her nails into my leg until I could barely breathe from the pain and from the need to cry out.
  God, it was such a strange thing to do- hurt someone badly so they cry harder while whispering in their ear, 'stop fucking crying, you fat fucking baby.' 
  Holy
shit!
  I forgot that!  My mother swore at me, and squeezed harder and harder into my skin until I gasped out loud, and then she glared at me kind of sideways and removed her hand from my leg.  Wow. 
That
was messed up.
  Anyway, after the ceremony my parents had a huge party, or I guess a ‘wake’ at my grandparent's house.  I remember being so sad in my grandma's house because I didn't know what to do with myself or my tears without her there to comfort me.  So I just wandered around until I stopped in my grandma's little solarium at the back of the main floor. 

  We always loved that room.  Well, she loved it first, but then as I got older I loved the solarium too. 
  My grandma bought and discretely hid a TV for us in a chest near the glass doors, and she and I would sneak inside and watch movies together when my grandfather was out, or otherwise occupied in his study. 
  It was our little secret, and I cherished it.  I loved the fear I felt knowing we could be caught with something as 'common' as a television, but I always knew my grandma would protect me even if my grandfather found out or caught us.  But we were never caught and I don't think he ever found out. 

  God, I loved my grandma Tommy in our solarium during our special secret time together, hidden in the room under big comfy blankets watching funny movies alone.
  After a while, I remember the guests began leaving, and I made my way back to the main dining room where food had been laid out.  With shaking hands, I picked up a little sandwich, just as I spotted my mother in the corner talking to some of her friends.  When we made eye contact she subtly shook her head no at me, and I dropped the sandwich at once. 
  Seconds later, my grandfather was beside me putting the same sandwich on a small plate for me with his back turned to my mother. 

  Oh god, I was so scared.  My grandfather didn't know about my mother saying no to me I don't think.  Or maybe he did know and that's why he turned his back to her.  Actually, I'm not sure if he knew, but I DO know I absolutely panicked at the thought of disobeying my mother and having her punish me for it later.  I knew my grandfather wouldn't be with me at our house when we returned, when my mother could be really,
really
angry at me.  And so I shook my head at my grandfather, refused the little sandwich, and just froze.
  Eventually, the room started to spin a little for me, and I remember my grandfather pulling me to his side as I started to breathe all funny. 

  Within seconds my
concerned
mother was at my side pulling me from his grasp, while telling everyone within hearing distance that I hadn't been feeling well earlier, and that the day had taken its toll on me. 
  Leading me from the dining room, my mother continued to coddle me until we entered a guest room upstairs.  And as soon as we were alone I tried to apologize for the sandwich, but my mother shook her head no again, effectively shutting me up instantly.  And then she slapped me across the face.  Wham!  I was absolutely stunned. 
  She hit me so hard, I actually fell sideways and backward onto the floor, landing hard on my butt.  I couldn't believe how much that slap hurt.  And as I grabbed my cheek in my hand, completely shocked, my mother said calmly, 'that's for embarrassing me at the funeral.  Expect much,
much
more punishment when we get home for that little near-
fainting
episode.'
  And that was it.  After she sneered her awful threat she left the room, and I burst into tears again, alone, at my beautiful, charming, elegant grandma Tommy's wake, in her huge, awesome home, which I always loved. 
  I remember I cried for my grandma that day, but I realize now I cried for me too, because somehow I knew my young life was over when my grandma Tommy left me.
 

  And now I know.  I was never beautiful like Tommy, and no one ever thought of me as Tommy, but I wanted to be.  I wanted to be just like my grandma.  I wanted to be beautiful, strong, lovely Tommy, but I'm not.  I'm still just Suzanne. 

  I wonder why I'm remembering all these things now.  What a strange way to dream, or to reminisce, or to feel nostalgic, especially now when I'm sleeping but kind of awake.  Weird.

CHAPTER 3

MAY 4

“
Suzanne!  Wake up right now!  Seriously.  I don't want to sit here just staring at you anymore 'cause I'm tired of it!  Everyone is so fucking tired of it.  It's ENOUGH!”
  What?!
 
“Kayla, stop!”
  What the hell is happening?
 
“No, Mack!  Suzanne needs to wake up now!”
 
“Kayla, Suzanne will come back soon.  You need to just-”  
  “Fuck that, Mack!  Suzanne!  I've had it with you!  Wake the fuck up!  NOW!”
  “Kayla!  If you yell at Suzanne one more time, I'll bounce you from this room!”
  “Piss off, Mack!  You wouldn't dare.”
  “Try me!”
  “Oh, fuck you... I'll call Kayla tonight and see if
she
lets you bounce me from the room.  How'd you like that?”
 
“Kayla, I don't think you want to go there with me- Not right now.  Listen, I know you're stressed out, and I know you want Suzanne to wake up, but-”
  “Mack.  Don't you dare try to
shrink
me right now.  I don't need a Shrink.  I need Suzanne to Wake. The. Fuck. UP!”
  Jesus
Christ!
  Why is she so mad at me?  What the hell did I do wrong?  Honestly.  I mean, I'm sleeping here, kind of, and this woman just keeps yelling at me.  Yeah, like I'm really gonna wake up for YOU.  What a bitch!
 
“Suzanne, I'm just going to give you a manicure, alright?  Yeah, I'm sure you'll like that.  You just lie there all relaxed, and I'll paint your nails for you.  How does that sound?”
 

  What the hell?  Is this woman bi-polar or something?  I can't keep up with her words or her moods.
 
“Kayla, DON'T!”
  “It's fine.  Shut up, Mack.”

  “Kayla, I mean it.  You're acting very irrationally right now.  Can you please talk to me?  I would really like to know what's bothering you, besides the obvious of course.  Kayla, please- just talk to me.”
  “I'm fine Mack, honestly.  But Suzanne isn't, is she?  You're not fine, are you Suzanne?  What's the matter SWEETIE, cat got your tongue?”
  What?!  I don't know what the hell this woman is talking about. 
 
“Kayla-”
  “Hey, SWEETIE, I'm just going to paint your nails now, okay?  Would you like that?”
  “Kayla, THAT'S ENOUGH!  I know what you're doing, and it's not working.  STOP.  Now!”
  “Suzanne, I'm painting your fingernails now, blood RED!  Do you like that?!  Awful, bloody, dark RED!  Did you hear me?  I said your nails are RED, like
Whore's
RED!”
   What?! 

  Oh god, I swear my heart is pounding through my chest.  And I feel kind of funny, like scared or desperate or something.  What’s happening?
 
“Kayla, stop this.  Kayla, look at me.  Now, Kayla.  Look at me, right now.  Look what you're doing to-”
  “No, Mack.”
  “Kayla, NOW!  I want you to turn and I want you to look at me, right now.”
  “No, Mack...”
 

  Oh, now
she
sounds all sad or something.  What a Psycho this bitch is.
 
“Kayla, turn and look at me, right now.”
  “Mack, I can't.”
  “Kayla, look at me...” 

  Oh, now he sounds all sad too.  What the hell is going on?
  “
I'm so tired, Mack.”
  “I know. Come here and sit with me.”
 

  Yeah, take a load off, ya Psycho!
  “Mack... I can't really deal with all this shit anymore.”
 
“Kayla, I'm leaving your apartment in the morning.  I'll be out of your apartment, and you can have all your space back. You can have some time to yourself again.  My stay was supposed to be only temporary back then.”
  “That's not it.  You're fine.  I kinda like torturing you for Kayla.  It's just, I'm tired of all the Suzanne
Shit
all the time, you know?”
  “I understand.  And you've been a very kind and generous host, but I'll be settled tomorrow morning into my rental, and you'll have your own space again, and you can take a break from all this for a while.  Maybe take a few days for yourself.  Maybe you should stay away for a few days.  I know how tired you are, and it’s okay, Kayla.  It really is okay to be tired of all this Suzanne shit.”
 
  What Suzanne shit?  What did I do?  Who the
hell
is this woman?  And why
the hell
is she so mad at me?