Who Are You, Miss Venus?

“Venny,”

You’re staring at me with a look that has my heart in pieces. Eyes that shine with fondness now holds a look that my tiny little brain can’t understand. Slender fingers running through my brown hair, well that’s always been your favourite, right? Yet, your touch lacks a mother’s warmth. Icy cold like ice cubes in the lemonade drink that you’ll make for lunch. Why do you feel so cold? Why do you look at me in that manner?

Your lips are moving and somehow there is no sound. Feels like I’m living right in a 60’s film, without any subtitles. Just silence and abrupt shakes, why are you shaking me? Did I do something wrong? I admit, I accidentally broke the cookie jar but I promise I’ll fix it for you. I’ll fix everything. I didn’t mean to make you upset.

“Listen carefully,”

I’m trying Mommy. But your pretty lashes are coated in teardrops, and I don’t understand — Why are you crying? Mascara is smudged all over your eyelids, and your bright red lips aren't coloured within the lip line. Every time the lightning strikes, the light frames your face in a way that makes my insides drop. Seeing your face concocted in despair and suffering, and all I want to do is to rub them all away. I want to wipe the worry wrinkles from your forehead, I want to see you smile for one last time.

“We have to go, dear,”

Where are you going, Mommy? Why isn’t Daddy looking at me? I’m sorry for breaking the cookie jar. I’m sorry for lying and drawing on the walls with my crayons. I’m sorry for being a bad daughter. But I love you, Mommy. I love Daddy too. Have you seen the drawing I did? The one with trees and flowers and grass and us — the three of us with the biggest grins, a food spread under the nice warm sun. Ms. Tashia asked us to draw happiness, and that’s how I feel when I know we can grow into a loving family.

“Venny, let Mommy go,”

Ms. Tashia told us if we want something, we have to work hard for it. And all I ever want is for us to grow happily together. Do I have to work hard for you? Do I have to be someone redeeming for you? My eyes are hurting and my cheeks are wet, just like the rain outside our house.

“I promise I’ll be back, dear,”

Your voice cracks and falters when you say “promise”. Daddy always brags about how you can’t lie, even if your life depended on it. Frosty winds and frostier hands as I stare desperately into your tear-welled eyes. Ingenuity is all I see, and why are you so unsure? Aren’t mommies and daddies supposed to know everything? But you look lost and confused, and thanks to the lightning strike… terrified.

Are you terrified of me, Mommy?

“No, please stay,”

Pathetically calling you out, despite the frosty winds overbearing above me. My tiny brittle hands tremble and it's ironic how yours are shaking as well. You’re looking away, and the shadow casts over your eyes only leaves a sinking feeling in my guts. A realization that perhaps, you fear me more than you love me. Mommies are supposed to love their daughters, right? You love me, don’t you Mommy? There’s no reason for you to get rid of me.

My eyes are hurting and my cheeks are wet. My favourite nightdress is soaking wet. At a final glance, your eyes appear like a stormy cloud. Swirls of emotions dance crazily in your irises, and without a second thought, you did the only thing recognizable. Arms in your fleece coat as it tickles my cheeks, slightly providing me the warmth I wasn’t receiving. A kiss on my head, like the ones you’ll give before I drift off to slumber. Except I’m not falling asleep, and you’re kissing me as if this means something much more.

“We love you always, Venus,”

Stop saying that. If you really love me, you wouldn’t be leaving me. Tongue-tied with chills, I watch as you left me stranded by the steps. One by one, the luggage gets hoisted into the yellow cab’s trunk. Why do you and Daddy need that many clothes? Daddy lights up a piece of rolled-up paper, erupting a small flame bursting wildly. Even in the midst of a heavy downpour, a flame burns bright. Why couldn’t we be like that flame, Mommy?

Instead, my eyes strain under the rain and teardrops, trying desperately to see your back disappear into the cab. You tilt your head away from the window. Away from me. Am I really an eyesore to you, Mommy? To the point that you can’t bear to offer one last glimpse? Somewhere inside of me screams to chase you into the taxi. ‘Cause up a tantrum fit, even if it means being a sore thumb to you. Another part of me is frozen in place, realizing that this is my fate. Having two parents where one can’t tell you the truth of how much she abhorred her only child and the other who didn’t bat a single eyelid in her direction.

Once Daddy is done and puts the flame out, I watch him walk to every beat of my heart pieces. Maybe it’s my imagination. Maybe I did catch a glimpse of Daddy’s eyes and the movement of his lips, his trail of vision towards me. With a single blink, Daddy is gone. Swallowed up by the yellow cab that grows smaller into the distance. Eventually disappearing into thin air. Hurts that this is the first and last time I ever had your recognition, Daddy.

And just like that, I woke up.