mother daughter confrontation scene

Stones on the driveway crunched under the tyres, as Jacquiline stopped the car in front of her mother's house. She took a moment to settle herself, as she was prone to do before a visit with Rhona. She'd always loved this house, even though it was a polar opposite to her own home. It was simple, warm, natural, so unlike the image she held of Rhona. Everything about the house seemed relaxed; the mismatched, cracked stones that etched out the path through a rambling front garden, the way tree branches grew under the eaves and vines tangled in the handrails of the wrap-around veranda. It could have appeared neglected, but it somehow seemed more loved than any home Jacqui had ever known. Her parents had bought the property when she'd moved out of their old home. It was to be there retirement dream. They'd got a decade or so in it together.
Breathing evenly now, Jacquiline stepped out of the car and walked up the six little steps to the timber lattice security doors that were never shut. The front section of the veranda extended two metres or so and was cramped with random wicker furniture, African carvings, Venetian glass ornaments, collections of shells, stones and twigs and an abundance of books. It was an area that Jacqui always looked forward to entering, as it was organic and ever evolving. It was like a little glimpse into Rhona's absurdly complicated head. Many times Jacquiline had questioned why her mother would leave things she treasured so much on her front porch, where anyone could wander off with them. Rhona would reply 'I love them, but if some-one else loves them more, they are welcome to them.' It was a painfully flawed explanation to Jacqui, but the only one her mother would offer.
The soft serenading music drifting out the windows told Jacqui she'd find her Mum sitting on the back balcony looking down her property to the creek. She'd sit there for hours watching the light change over the trees in her yard. And always with this music. Dreamy, gentle, floating.
Jacqui could have walked around the veranda to the back of the house, but she preferred to wander through it. Rhona's home was always filled with her own paintings. Not just on the walls, in fact rarely on the walls. They were leaning on furniture, propped up against doors, sitting on unused chairs. When she was on a creative streak the paintings could multiply at a staggering rate, until there was scarcely an inch to move in the tiny timber home. Then over time they'd begin to disappear, Jacqui presumed they were sold although she couldn't be sure. Rhona's art was one of those topics the women skirted around, it always brought tension. Jacquiline couldn't even remember why anymore, it was just one of those things she knew to avoid. She ran her hands along a canvas and felt the rise and fall of the oil slicks. She adored her mother's artwork. It was mesmerising. Like the music filling the room, it was dreamlike, wistful, spellbinding. And yet she'd die before admitting it to Rhona.
Jacquiline walked through to the kitchen at the back of the house. She could see her mother on the back porch, leaning back in her deck chair, feet propped up on the handrails, coffee cup rested on her belly. She took a moment to watch her. Even in her sixties, Rhona was still striking. Not so much beautiful as exotic, and so very unique. Jacquiline was comfortable with her own looks, she knew many men found her attractive. However she'd always envied her mother's style of beauty. Jacquiline was like a million other women, pretty enough to be noticed, not unique enough to be remembered. Nobody ever forgot Rhona. Everything about her was dramatic and extraordinary.
"Bring out a bottle of water with you, would you dear?" She didn't even glance over to see who it was. Jacquiline grabbed a bottle from the well stocked fridge and went out the door to join her mother.
"How'd you know it was me?"
"You're the only one who walks through my house rather than come around the veranda" Rhona replied, still not looking over at her daughter.
Jacquiline took a seat beside Rhona and mimicked her pose, feet up on the rail, leaning back on the chair. They watched the light together.
"We spoke with the specialist today, he wanted to give us a realistic picture of what's in front us now for Tessa." Jacquiline wasn't sure she wanted to discuss this with her Mother right now, but she had to fill the silence.
"And?" Apparently Rhona wasn't keen on the subject either.
"They're sure she has brain damage, she'll probably have to learn most things all over again. It'll take a lot of work."
"It'll take a lot of work from you Jacqui - you ready for that?"
Unsure of the answer to that, Jacquiline chose to say nothing.
The sunlight was deepening, casting long shadows through the Poinciana trees.
"I'm sorry Mum, I was out of line"
Rhona met her daughter's gaze for the first time, nodding slightly in acknowledgement.
The shadows on the ground were stretched further still.
"I went to see Dad." She knew she was tempting fate, but Jacquiline was feeling compelled to push again.
The sigh that came from Rhona was weighted with emotion. Sadness, disappointment, pity, resignation.
"He talked to me Mum, really talked. He looked me right in the eyes and called me Petal. He's still there Mum, I saw it today. He is still in there."
Jacquiline waited for Rhona to say something, anything. Rhona continued to watch the sunlight.
"I asked him something Mum. When he was talking to me. I had to know something. I asked if he missed you." Even to her own ears Jacquiline knew her voice sounded childlike, afraid.
Rhona's head turned slowly to look at her, one eye brow slightly cocked in query. Jacquiline was sure there was a moment of fear in her mother's eyes, and it emboldened her. She was scared to hear what Eddie had said. Jacquiline could have relieved her immediately, told her there had been no discernable response from her father, but she was taking pleasure in this moment of power. She wanted to see if she could make Rhona suffer. It was mean and she was enjoying it. The narrowing of Rhona's eyes told Jacquiline her mother had realised this.
"Are you waiting for something my dear?" The tone withered Jacquiline's courage instantly. She knew she'd need to take another tactic, her mother's resolve was tougher than hers.
"Well do you miss him Rhona?" She only ever used her mother's first name in arguments. "You know what Jacquiline, I believe it is time for you to go home. I should imagine your family needs you."
"I can hack it Rhona. If you don't miss him just admit it. I'll cope, after all I'm all grown up now Mother."
"Evidence to the contrary" Rhona smiled.
"Go on Rhona, say it. You don't visit him because you don't miss him. You wrapped yourself up in your little arty farty world and haven't looked back. Right?"
Rhona's feet dropped back to the deck and she sat upright in her seat. Breathing deeply, she looked at Jacquiline with intensity.
"Listen carefully Jacqui, for I will not being having this conversation with you again. Your father was the love of my life and I miss him every day that I exist without him."
All the voices in Jacquiline's head were screaming leave it alone, accept the answer, go home. But the bitch in her was louder. "Really? Love of your life? What about the man you slept with for a year, Rhona, was he the love of your life too? Or was he just second best? An accompaniment? A little treat?"
The disdain in Rhona was palpable. "Go home Jacqui." She stood up and gathered her things to head back inside.
Now that she'd leapt over the line, Jacquiline knew she had to keep going. It couldn't be left here. She wanted pain. She jumped out of her chair and blocked her mother's path to the door.
"What'd Daddy say when he found out Rhona? How'd he react? Did he hate you for it? Was he hurt? Well I don't need to ask that do I? I know that answer. He was hurt enough to run on out and try to hurt you back. How did it feel when you found out he slept with that women Rhona? Did it crush you, or did you accept it as your punishment? Which one of you was the worst huh? You running around with your business partner for a year, jumping in and out of each other's beds, or Dad picking up some slut in a bar and screwing her? How'd you decide who was guiltiest?" Jacquiline's voice was reaching a fevered pitch. "I don't know about you but I think your affair was the worst. I reckon Dad just had a one night stand in retaliation. You loved another man, you ate dinners with him, watch movies with him, made love to him." Jacquiline was panting with rage by now. "So you want to tell me he was the love of your life? Bullshit mother. You don't do that to someone you love. You don't. How the hell did you two go on from there? What could you possibly have done to make him forgive you? What did you do to forgive each other? I want to know. I want to know what you two said to each other when it was all out in the open? What the fuck could you have done then?"
Rhona had waited patiently, knowing there was little point in interrupting. She was the very image of composure, yet there was an edge in her voice that could cut steel. Slowly and with great poise, Rhona spoke:
"You want to know what we did Jacquiline? You really want to know? Really? We yelled and screamed at each other, we called each other every name under the sun. We cursed and shouted and broke things. And then you know what we did? We had sex. Actually, no, you couldn't even call it sex - we fucked each other senseless. We tore at each other's bodies like animals and had raw, primal, violent sex. We fucked until every muscle in my body was in agony. Is that what you wanted to hear Jacquiline? Is it? Were you hoping to hear that we cried and held each other and begged forgiveness? Well we didn't. We fucked until we were utterly exhausted - and then we looked at each other and laughed. Yeah, we laughed.
Now, I don't expect you to understand that. With all your rules on what constitutes love and how one should act to have a perfect marriage. We didn't care about that shit. We just cared about each other. We knew we'd hurt each other, but it didn't mean we were no longer in love. From the moment I met your father, he consumed me. He was an addiction and I needed him to survive. And I can assure you; he felt the same way about me. We knew we'd both made mistakes, but we never expected perfection from one another. Unconditional means just that - there are no conditions that could change my love for him. And in the moment that we looked at one another and laughed, we knew we'd moved on from our mistakes. You'd have thought it would be easier to turn away from each other, but we knew we couldn't. We turned towards each other instead. And it made all the difference. From that moment on, our love was so strong, so intensified. We had seen how much we could hurt each other, and we knew we could never do it again. We didn't even need to say it, we just knew that our commitment was forever. From that day, I have felt so secure, so adored, so cherished in my relationship with your father. And if an affair was what it took to make our marriage that way, then damn it, I'd do it all over again. I wouldn't change a thing! This is the way we loved each other. We never doubted it, we never questioned it. So, I ask you Jacquiline, what fucking right to you have to come into my home and questioned my love?"
Without pausing, Rhona reached past Jacquiline and opened the back door. Stepping inside her home, she let the door slam closed behind her.
Subdued and reproached, Jacquiline hurried down the back steps and around the house to her car. She was needed at home now.