1Thursday, June 28th, 2007
I envy summer. She is beautiful and she is flawless.
I await the comfort of her presence each year.
I await the warmth of her sun-coated smile, which provides me with a sense of reassurance that there is, indeed, beauty around me.
She allows me to leave the pressures of society behind me and walk onward to a period of redemption.
I was, however, unexpectant of what awaited me this time.
In the past, she has been difficult, but always rewarding. One of the times she was most difficult was the year my sister died, in which I remained forcefully secluded to the possible dangers that lay beyond my home. At the fragile age of thirteen, she forbid me from having friends and a life outside my delicate yet resentful mother.
Prior to Amanda's death, the relationship I shared with my mother was minimal. We exchanged nothing but "good mornings" and "sweet dreams," and although I constantly aimed for more, I received the contrary.
Once Amanda was gone, however, my mother began to center her entire life on assuring my physical safety. She achieved this by confining me to my house and consistently going through my personal belongings and removing anything that could possibly be a threat.
Feeling summer's warmth was a rarity. My mother worked at home as an attempt to constantly monitor me. Once discovering this was too difficult, she sent me away to an overnight summer camp in which I immediately contracted pneumonia and was sent home.
I never blamed my mother for her concern over me. It was emotionally devistating for her to lose one daughter, and I understood that she wasn't ready to lose another. While it hurt me to have to pay the consequences for my sister's death, I understood that my mother was scared and that, over time, she would learn to trust me again.
I was right. I earned my mother's trust, and she slowly but surely allowed me to go on with my life. I made friends, was active in theatre, and as I progressed through gradeschool and entered highschool, I had a life again.
Tonight, however, was a turning point for all of the trust I had so rightfully earned over the past three years.
"Molly, get up here, right now. I need to talk to you."
I was sitting downstairs with my boyfriend. We were holding each other and watching television while the wicked smile of summer broke through the windows and made its presence on the screen. Everything was comfortable, and the safety of his arms provided me with a sense of security I never had prior to knowing him.
I recognized the emptiness of feeling in her voice from summers and summers before. Chills consumed my body as I racked my brain for possibilities of what I possibly could have done wrong.
I entered her office, which was devoured by cigarette smoke and ash trays. My mother's eyes were cold and resentful, nearly constraining me out of the room.
"Sit down."
I obeyed her demand, staring down at my feet as I felt her eyes locked on me.
"I want you to know that you're getting drug tested."
Although I was caught by surprise at the seemingly random timing of her demand, I wasn't shocked by the idea of a drug test. My sister's death had, after all, been from a drug overdose. I was still puzzled by the resurrection of my sister's past, but I still consented to taking the test. Although, I still felt obligated to ask her why.
Her response shocked me.
"I hear you've been trying to buy some ecstasy from someone."
I let out a slight giggle. I had no idea what inspired her belief, and when asked, she refused to provide me with any solid information.
"It may not have been ecstasy," she started. "Someone left a message on your voicemail. A phone number was left to contact someone for something you've been trying to buy. I want to know what it is."
I calmly told her I didn't know what it was about, and I requested that I hear the voicemail.
"I deleted it. I want to know what you were trying to buy." Her tone grew harsher with every word, and her accusations created a burning in my heart.
I repeated to her that I didn't know what the phone call was about and since I couldn't hear the message, I was unable to provide her with any of the information she requested. I had no idea as to what inspired this accusation, and I was just as curious as she was to find out.
"You're lying to me, Molly. If I find out you've been doing drugs, I'm sending you away."
My stomach sunk at those last four words. The mere thought that my mother would give up on me, even if I were doing drugs, upset me more than I could ever describe.
"Get me tested, then," I challenged her. I wanted to prove to her that I wasn't as bad of a child as she made me seem at that moment, and I was more than willing to comply with her request.
The next few minutes were a blur. What I thought was going to be a civil conversation metamorphisized into screaming obscenities and accusations.
My heart was pounding furiously and my blood was boiling. I regained the courage to look her straight in the eye, and I regained the emotional strength to leave her with three words: "I'm not Amanda."
I ran back downstairs, my face drenched in tears. My boyfriend had heard the entire conversation and without a word, he welcomed me into his arms as I cried. Together we left my house, and I was comforted by the combination of his warmth and the sun. With both arms wrapped around me, we found a bench as he promised to me that everything would be alright.
I returned home later that evening recomposed, but was welcomed with more accusations. She continuously asked me if I was ready to come clean and tell her what I was trying to buy, but I was still clueless and desperately tried to tell her I didn't know.
She had purchased a drug test, and I was eager to take it. She asked me if I wanted to see it and told me it had come out negative. I had proven to her that I was clean, but the accusations continued.
"I want to know what you were trying to buy."
I promised her I didn't know, but I only received more questioning. Broken down once again, I entered my room and quietly shut the door. A few moments later, she followed me in and continued with her questioning. No matter what my response was, I was deemed a liar and a drug addict, although she had physical proof otherwise.
She forced me awake half the night, still trying to get an answer out of me. My heart was burning more than ever and I had no idea what to do to get her to stop. I missed the period of my life in which she paid no attention to me whatsoever, and I desperately wished I could reclaim it.
My father, who lives in California, sent me $100 through the mail because I wasn't getting any from my mother. She informed me of this at 1:30 am, and then viciously stated that I wasn't getting it until she found out what I was trying to buy. Hearing this, I sunk down to an all new low. I wanted to buy my best friend a birthday present, and tried explaining this to her, but she refused to hear it.
Eventually, she left my room, informing me I was grounded for insubordination. I sobbed into my pillow until I fell asleep.
A day later, I am still being accused of an uncommited crime.
At exactly 12:00 am, I stare out my window and see a star shooting through the sky. I normally am not supersticious, but out of desperation, I close my eyes and easily make a wish.
Summer, please smile down on me once again.