Sins of the Mother

This story was originally written for and published on Amazon under my pen name Samantha Late.

I laid by our pool. The sun was beating down on me, my skin slowly approaching the shade I wanted. I was taking the time to enjoy my final summer before leaving for VPU, Vicinage Private University, that fall. Which is why I scowled at the sound of my mother’s shrill voice breaking the silence of my peaceful afternoon.

“I don’t know what’s so hard about this,” she shouted at Jesús across the yard. I rolled my head to the side to stare. Jesús was nearly a foot taller than my mother but he still cowered against her wrath.

I couldn’t actually hear him, but my mind was eager to fill in the gaps. Imagining his frequent apologies. “Lo siento Señora Martin,” was probably his most spoken phrase. Jesús was our head gardener and one of mom’s favorite punching bags, mostly because he never fought back.

He probably thought that Mom would have him deported, and honestly I wouldn’t put it past her. My mom was mean and miserable, always yelling at our staff, or the waiters, cashiers, basically anyone she had even an ounce of power over.

It always drove me nuts when we were out somewhere and Mom would throw one of her temper tantrums. Makes me think of all the parents with toddlers screaming through the grocery store embarrassed by everyone staring, but at least with a child it’s expected.

Jesús just shook his head agreeing to all of Mom’s assertions that he had someone messed up enough to deserve the tongue lashing. I felt bad for him, the strong Hispanic man to shrink away from the weak middle-aged woman.

He could easily overpower her, his muscles huge from a lifetime of physical labor. His hand could grip her blonde hair, the same blonde hair I shared. She’d be powerless to resist, the Latino’s strong calloused hands ripping apart her clothes. My breathing grew unsteady as I imagined the scene. At Jesús taking my mom, or was it me?

Mom walked away, or perhaps stomped is a better phrasing, pulling me back to reality. Jesús looked relieved to be left alone. “Can you believe this Clair?” she asked as she took the seat next to me.

“Believe what?” I feigned ignorance, as if I hadn’t overheard her yelling at Jesús over an improperly trimmed hedge.

“Seriously Clair,” she chided me, “obviously the hedges.” She gestured over to where the gardener had returned to his duties. They looked the same to me, honestly I sometimes wondered if Mom just enjoyed yelling at everyone. “It’s all wrong, I honestly don’t know why I keep him on.”

“Probably because he does a good job,” I told her.

She glared at me, “Honestly Clair, one of these days your snark will catch up to you.” I rolled my eyes as I was quickly becoming Mom’s new target. “Hopefully your time at Vicinage will make a lady out of you. Then maybe you can find a worthy man to marry.”

I bit my cheek, stopping myself from making a remark about her vile attitude being the reason for Dad leaving. I’d thrown that in her face enough times to know it would ruin any chances of a peaceful afternoon by the pool. “Whatever you say,” I brushed her jabs aside standing up from my seat.

I wasn’t about to waste a beautiful day by listening to her disapproval of all things me. I got enough of that on days where I couldn’t avoid it. I left her behind as I made my way inside, maybe find a snack and wait out Mom, she’d find something to fill her interests and I’d be free to return to sunbathing.

Our housekeeper was in the kitchen, the black haired woman was leaning over the counter looking at a laptop. “Morning Miss,” she greeted my entrance.

“Morning Delja, what are you working on?” I asked, digging through the fridge. Delja was scrolling through listings for something.

She sighed, “Finding a new masseuse for your mother.”

“What happened to Ferdinand?” I asked, sipping from my water bottle. Mom had actually kept the same masseuse for almost a full year, instead of her usual couple months.

“Who knows,” she shrugged, “Could be anything with that wretch.” She stiffened, “Don’t tell her I said that.”

I laughed and hugged her from the side, “No worries, I’ve got you, Delja.” Delja was one of the only constants in the house. Mom tried to fire her once when I was maybe six, but turned out Mom and Dad weren’t prepared to deal with an angry and heartbroken child. Delja was back within the month, and never left again. That month was harder than my parents’ divorce.

“DELJA,” Mom’s voice called out, failing to properly pronounce her name as always. The hard J instead of the actual yah sound.

“Speak of the devil,” I laughed. “Good luck, Jesús already got attacked today.”

I caught just the slightest hint of a grin before she said, “Stop, that’s terrible.” She closed the laptop, the list of masseuses gone.

“DELJA.”

“Coming, Ma’am!” she replied, rushing across the kitchen.

“Love you, Delja,” I said, blowing her a kiss.

“Love you too, Miss,” she said as she made her exit.

Out the window, I could see Mom still sitting outside. Ugh, maybe I should just go out for the day. I made my way to my room, can’t exactly go shopping in a bikini.

I heard a few angry groans filter through my window. I couldn’t understand most of it, only catching a few choice Spanish words that seemed to always be in reference to my mother. Jesús was on the side of the house, punching the air, cursing in Spanish, pacing while out of Mom’s view.

He waved his hands about, saying all the things he wanted to say to my mom but couldn’t. The anger and passion dripped from his voice. Jesús grabbed his crotch for emphasis, I didn’t know what he said but I could take plenty of guesses.

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