The Lady Next Door

Chapter 1- The rumour

WHEN my brother told me that our neighbour, the lady next door was our mother. I looked at his serious face and burst out laughing. As if, she was! Every night, shrieks and yells could be heard- like a chorus of bats from her house. Occasionally, the dull murmur of tinkling glass, awoke me, thinking it was a burglar- but the low, dry cackle that followed made me somewhat relieved as it meant it was the lady.

I don’t remember my mother much. Dad said she had died, giving birth to me- so in honour to her, I was named after her. The only problem was, that I was a boy. Her name was Martha lily-white. My brother protested that I could not be named that so it was modified to Matthew white for me. One thing about dad was that he was extremely workaholic. He was never there for dinner, never there to check my homework, never there when my brother came home stoned after another late party. Sometimes he would not come back for a whole day, only to come knocking on the door at 1 am the next day looking like a random homeless person. Our family therapist said it was because of mum. It is always about her these days. When I painted, my dad would turn glassy-eyed and tell me for the hundredth time, that she loved painting. When my brother comes home with another C on his grade paper, my dad would remind us that she was a grade A student.

My brother had given me a copy of my ‘dead’ mother’s birth certificate file. There was no death certificate. I handled the slim papers delicately, tucking my hands under, so he would not see the trembling. We checked the clock on the kitchen counter- 12:45 am- dad should be home soon. I didn’t want to hear the truth but my brother was already opening the door when he heard the knocking.

Chapter 2- A mother’s grieving

Nothing, No one.

The two words scare me.

EVERYDAY is a living dream. I am a blank canvas, ridden of vivid colours and life. I look at my hands, and they tremble. How I ached to hold a paintbrush and to paint away my emotions. Mark had gotten rid of everything in my life that holds my saneness. My little boys taken away. Dylan and the baby. So many years have passed, that I know the baby is no longer one, and Dylan is probably about to graduate. I never got to name the baby. If I had though, I would’ve named him Leo.

A click and a slide of bolt sends my frail body cowering like a wounded animal. My heart is in my ears- each thump a loud roar

“Martha sweetie, are you there? I know you are, quit hiding. I’ve got the groceries for you!” came a sickly cheery voice of a man. It was Mark.

He’s sturdy figure towered over me and with ease, he set me on the chair. I rubbed my arms vigorously, trying to rid the ugly burning sensation where he had handled me. I glared at him with contempt and snarled like a wild beast.

A faint flicker of a smile toyed his mouth, but it did not reach his sad eyes. “ Martha,” He said gently “you know that I’m trying to help you. The doctors say that you are unfit to look after children, much less ours. Without my persuading you would probably have been left in a psychiatric ward.”

I looked at the man I thought I could trust, and screamed. My throat was raw from anger and contempt at the filth in front of me. I grabbed a china vase from the table and hurled it at him. It was a wild miss, but I felt a small satisfaction when it crashed and broke over the tiled floors. Although the shards did not reach me, each jagged piece glinting on the floor, was like my heart, broken and beaten without repair. I sobbed into my arms and felt a groan as a nearby chair was scraped across the floor. The door slammed behind me as I lost myself to oblivion.

Chapter 3- The confrontation

MY brother’s low gasp and a curse muttered was what sent my shaking legs to join him. I could barely see over his shoulder, into the doorway but I knew something was wrong. Normally I would be able to see my dad, as even for a man, he was tall and muscular. Tentatively I stepped closer and saw her.

“Mum?” I hear my brother say. I stared at the newcomer and shuddered at her forlorn, sunken eyes and tousled hair. She must have once been a beautiful woman- it was the lady next door.

“What are you talking about, it’s the lady next door!” I hissed at my brother.

“Leo?” The lady saw me. Her eyes filled with tears as she bent down and stroked the side of my cheek. “I thought I would never get to see you again”

She straightened her shoulders and gazed with admiration at my brother. “Dylan, I can’t believe it, you’ve grown to such a fine young man.”

My brother blushed. Now that was a first. He. Never. Blushes. He leant down towards me and whispered urgently in my ear. “This is mum, Matthew”

Her lips stretched into a wide smile, almost like a toddler when she is promised a lolly. I noticed wisps of grey hair coming out from her low bun and the harsh wrinkle lines that had cut themselves into her skin. She beckoned us into a car- my dad’s car and buckled us in. I gazed over at my brother and saw that he was looking dreamy and lost in his own world. I punched his arm lightly and looked at the lady with doubt.

He rolled his eyes. “It’s our mum, relax ok? I knew something was up with dad, I can’t believe that he literally locked her away from our lives.”

We turned to more streets, some that looked familiar, some that didn’t. We seemed to have been driving for a long time.

I peered at her pale arms that were guiding the steering wheel. With a gasp I noticed the rows of deep cut marks that were etched in a blotchy red against her skin and the faint bruises on her neck. Had dad been abusing her?

As if feeling my concern, she looked back and grimaced at me. Her mouth opened as if to say something before a piercing police siren whipped past us. The car fish- tailed and skidded, upturning beside the road. Three police cars surrounded us. Flames burst from the car. It’s searing hotness covering my lungs. A strong hand gripped me and I was hurled out form the car. I saw my brother, looking vacantly in the distance, nursing a limp arm. My eyes widened in horror as I saw a slumped figure on the car wheel.

“Mum!” I screamed. The word sounder foreign to my mouth. I screamed and ran to the burning car, running until my legs gave away. The last thing I saw was orange flames crackling and popping like fireworks against the rising sun.

****************
The first word on my mouth when I woke up was ‘mum’. A nurse gazed pityingly at me and walked away. My whole body convulsed and twisted with pain. A familiar figure sat down beside me.

“You!” I spat out. My father looked like a broken man.

A silent tear spilled out of his eyes, meandering down his chin.

“ Matthew you have to understand. I did what I thought was best for you and Dylan. I had to protect you from her. You see, your mother was mentally ill after your birth. She had previously tried to kill you and hurt your brother when you were a baby. I had to keep her elsewhere, so she would not harm you. Then she moved on to bodily harm. Attempting suicide. She tried all methods. Slitting her wrists, hanging herself, drinking poison, shooting, knifing and so much more. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t let them take her to a mental hospital. Your mother loved the outdoors and her painting was mainly inspired from it. I couldn’t bear to see her locked up like a bird in a cage. It kills me”

He choked then continued.

“She lived next door to us. I would check up on her everyday and cook her food. I must have forgotten to lock the door. That’s how she probably got out.”

My heart was numb. I felt deep sorrow and grief for the woman I never got to know.

“Where was she taking me?” I whispered.

He looked up at me and said simply “Home, Matthew, she was taking you home”

Tears filled my eyes as I felt myself doubling over in harrowing pain.

“Why Leo?”

“ Leonardo was a great painter- someone that your mother deeply admired. She hoped you would be like him some day”

I stared at my hands.

Sometimes the truth hurt more than lies.