Chapter 3
From the way they talked, I figured out that the guy was Mom's date, and the middle-aged woman was the matchmaker.
My mom was all smiles, and you could tell she was into the guy.
They joked and laughed together, and soon the topic shifted to family.
The guy said he was divorced, single, and had no kids. Mom nodded, but she hesitated, the words catching in her throat.
The guy was respectful, waiting patiently for her to continue.
Just then, the matchmaker jumped in and said to the man, "Rosemary's single, never been married, and has no kids."
Mom went quiet for a long time, her eyes downcast, not saying another word.
I squirmed anxiously inside the suitcase, wanting to yell out that the matchmaker was lying.
I was her daughter.
But all my struggling did was make the suitcase shake a little.
The guy asked, "Did the suitcase just move?"
Mom came to herself and stared at the suitcase for a moment.
"No, you must be seeing things," she said.
When I heard Mom say that, my heart dropped to the floor, and tears started to fall silently.
I couldn't bear to leave Mom.
After the guy left, the matchmaker stuck around.
The matchmaker earnestly tried to persuade Mom.
"Do you really have to keep carrying that burden with you? Just leave her with her grandma. You'll have it so much easier, and you could find yourself a good man," she said.
"Honestly, with a kid holding you back, what man wouldn't run for the hills?" she added.
Mom shook her head, her voice firm. "I would never hand Miriam over to that old witch!"
"But you hate her so much..." the matchmaker said.
Mom cut her off. "Even if I hate her, Miriam is still my child. No one's taking her from me."
The matchmaker let out a few sighs, gave Mom's hand a reassuring pat, and headed out.
When the suitcase was unzipped again, Mom was out of her red dress and back in her usual long sleeves and pants.
Her eyes were icy as she looked at me, and she untied the ropes around me.
My hands and feet were numb from the ropes, and as soon as I pulled the dirty cloth from my mouth, I started bawling.
Mom clutched her ears, her face twisted in pain. She kicked the suitcase hard, sending me sprawling.
"You deadweight! Even I'm not crying. What makes you think you deserve to?" she snapped.
I swallowed my sobs. That was the day I understood. I really was just deadweight.
The next day, Grandma stormed into the house, all bluster and fury.
She marched right up and yanked my arm so hard it felt like she was trying to rip it off.
"Rosemary, you're already out there matchmaking, and you still want to take my grandchild into someone else's home?" she barked.
"I'm not leaving without Miriam today, no matter what!" Mom said.
She held me tight, protecting me fiercely.
"Not a chance! You people are nothing but animals. Miriam stays with me!" she shouted.
Grandma ditched her sweet old lady act and went for Mom, hands swinging.
"You little bitch! You're the real trashy slut here, a dirty tramp!" she screamed.
Grandma and Mom started fighting, and I was scared out of my mind. Grandma looked possessed, like she wanted to rip out whatever was left of Mom's soul.
But I still stepped in front of Mom, putting myself between them.
"Don't you dare hurt my mom!" I shouted.
But Grandma shoved me to the floor. Just as I scrambled to my feet, she snatched up a wine bottle and tried to smash it on Mom.
"No!" I screamed.
Mom managed to block her, but the bottle ricocheted and crashed into me just as I was getting up.
My forehead throbbed, and the metallic smell of blood filled my nose.
My vision was awash with red, everything blurring together.
The only thing I could make out was Mom running toward me.
Everything went light as I hit the ground, my mind drifting off into darkness.
I had a long, long dream. In it, Mom was beautiful, with a loving husband and a happy family.
They even had a baby, and I hurried over to see what the baby looked like.
But when I realized the baby wasn't me, I just stood there quietly, feeling myself drift farther and farther away from Mom's happiness.
So that was how it was. If I weren't her kid, she'd be happy.
When I came to, my mind was totally blank; it felt like my brain had just shut off.
Grandma was right next to my ear, calling out my name. "Miriam."
Grandpa was there too, his calloused hand brushing my cheek, but Grandma smacked his hand away.
Just then, Mom walked in. The moment she saw Grandpa, it was like she'd just spotted her worst enemy. The hatred in her eyes was impossible to hide.
Grandpa shouted, "I'm her grandpa! Can't I even see her?"
But Mom was furious. She smashed the soda bottle in her hand and pointed the jagged end at him.
"Get out, you old bastard!" she yelled.
Grandpa, scared Mom might really lose it, bolted out of there in a flash.
My eyes were vacant, and no matter what they said to me, I could only manage a word or two.
"Mom," I said, my voice flat.
When the doctor finally came to check on me, he said my brain was messed up.
As soon as Grandma heard that, she dropped my hand like I was something filthy.
"Great, now she's a retard!" she spat.