“I’m surprised you didn’t change it into a guest room,” Sonya says softly, grabbing two plates and silverware. “Or Dad didn’t convert it into a storage place.”
“I would never do that.” Avoiding commenting directly, Ranee searches a drawer in the kitchen until she finds what she’s looking for. Pulling out a gold necklace with a heart-shaped pendant, Ranee drops it in Sonya’s palm. “I found this in my bureau last night. I thought you might want it.”
It was the necklace Ranee gave to Sonya for her sixteenth birthday. When Sonya packed her things to move out on the night of her graduation, she had left the necklace dangling on top of her chest of drawers.
Staring at the necklace, Sonya closes her fist around it before slipping it into her pocket. “Thanks.”
“When you left, I thought you would only be gone for a short while, so I left it in your room. I never imagined it would be so many years,” Ranee admits, fussing over the food. “After the third, maybe fourth year, I took it to my room for safekeeping.”
“I left because I had no choice,” Sonya says bitingly, taking the bait Ranee subconsciously threw out. “What was said that day—it made everything clear.” Sonya shakes her head, anger reverberating off her. After so many years, she can’t even pinpoint when it started or where it led, only that it was her constant companion.
They face one another, both clearly wondering how they arrived at this point. Ranee tries to defend herself without destroying the fragile connection she has built with her daughter. “I was scared.”
“Of?”
“Of having made the wrong decision.”
“You did, Mom.” Sonya says, oblivious to the truth Ranee keeps from her. She runs her hands through her hair. “It’s the wrong decision to tell your daughter she doesn’t matter.” The tears choke her. “To tell her she is a burden.”
“Sonya.” The lit coal in her voice burns her throat. When Sonya was born, her umbilical cord proved difficult to cut. The doctors in the small hospital joked that this one would never leave Ranee’s side. “You were never a burden.” But Ranee knows it is too little, too late. Sonya’s face shows no reaction.
“And yet,” Sonya pauses, “you said otherwise at graduation.”
Taking a deep breath, Ranee struggles to try to clarify what she meant the night of graduation. “Sonya, when I said it would have been best for you to be aborted . . .” Ranee pauses. “It was the only way I knew how . . .” To let you go are the words that remain unspoken. That was the reason Ranee had spoken the truth. She knew it would make Sonya leave, escape. For Ranee, it was the only choice left to make. The only way Sonya could be free.
“Did you mean it?” Sonya asks quietly when Ranee is unable to finish the sentence.
“Yes,” Ranee whispers. “But not for the reasons you believe.”
Before Ranee can attempt to explain to her daughter why she never wished her born, Sonya finishes the conversation with, “The reasons don’t matter. What’s done is done. Nothing can change the past.” Sighing, she gathers her hair together. “It’s best if you and I don’t discuss it again.”
When you lose someone there is a grieving process. Shock, anger, despair, among a multitude of other emotions. Every one of them wrapping around you like a vise. No room to breathe, to think, or to understand. But what about when someone is alive yet wants nothing to do with you? Is there a mourning process in place then, or do you hold on to hope like a life raft in the abyss? After the fight with Sonya, Ranee’s emotions swing erratically. Like a pendulum with no gravity, they shift minute to minute, until she is exhausted from nothingness.