Four

~Jemima Steele  Pov

....Her father's home, eleven years ago from now.

We travelled all night along the major roads. When I roused in the wee hours of the morning, it was to my mother roughly veering off into a minor road. I took a guess from her obvious relief that we were close to our destination.

She turned into a path which curved and meandered into a beautiful setting. I gazed out of the window at the landscape, observing the tall trees and pondering if I would ever return to my home with my mother.

She eventually came to a halt at a house at the end of the road. The appearance was aged yet cozy and illuminated by the bright lights. There was a lovely front garden that was just beautiful. I felt fear as I wondered why we were there

She parked the car and asked me to stay still. Then she got out and went to the house. She knocked on the door and a woman opened it. They talked for a moment and both went inside. I heard loud voices in the house and sometimes later, my mum came outside. She stormed towards me and opened the car door. She looked at me with icy eyes and said, "Get down!"

"Yes ma," I said and quickly did as she asked. I could barely feel my fingers or toes from the cold, and the ground beneath my feet felt just as hard and unwelcoming as the house that loomed in front of me.

"Go to that door and knock," she said as she fished my suitcase out of the back seat and handed it to me. "You will live with your father from now on do you hear me? Do not ever try to find me Jemima ," she warned.

"But ma," I began to protest.

"Oh shut up you stupid and ungrateful piece of shit! I have had enough of you and your queerness. I am tired of trying to explain to any one who cares to hear that you are nothing but the results of one drunken night. And that it is not my fault that you are a weird mother fucker!" She was breathless when she stopped speaking and I stared at her in astonishment. "Well, whatever your eleven year old ass understands from that rant is fine. Now goodbye, hopefully forever," she said.

Tears welled in my eyes as she turned around to the other side of the car. But I knew better than to hold onto her. She looked like she would push me away if I did. I felt immobile as if I was made from the stone under my feet, but yet like pressured glass I was on the verge of breaking. "Ma please don't leave me. I am begging you," I pleaded with her.

"Take that shit and go on up before I drag you there!" she snapped at me with that voice that was capable of cutting through the rain with its sharpness. I did as I was instructed with tears in my eyes, going to the door. I watched as she got into the car and started it. She turned and drove down the path, leaving me behind.

I suddenly began to run after the car, abandoning my suitcase and crying after her. But she did not even look back at me, not even once until the car was out of sight. I stared at the road with a tiny spark of hope in my heart,  praying and wishing with my eleven year old mind that she would rethink her decision and come back to take me home with her. But yet, nothing. The empty stretch of road proved that.

And just like the day that I had been born, it began to rain, the heavens unleashing their anger on the earth. I began to cry as the realization that even the heavens supported my mother abandoning me dawned on me. I stood there, remaining oblivious to the rain washing over me as I tried to deal with my pain that was tightening my little chest.

The door opened behind me and I turned to look. There was a man standing in the door way. “Jemima !” He shouted my name. "Get out of the rain and come here now." His voice was authoritative. I nodded and ran up to him. He was big and tall with a piercing gaze. I stared at him while dripping water all over the floor,  it knowing what to say to him. He stared back at me with a certain recognition in his eyes. I wondered how he felt looking at the mistake that he had made standing before him in the flesh. He reached for my luggage and stepped aside for me to come into the house. I did so.

The hallway adorned with bright lights and worn carpets with a pretty floral wallpaper that seemed as old as he was. It smelled faintly of sandalwood, flowers and something that I could not quite identify. It was a scent that tugged at a deep, instinctual part of me. He closed the door behind me and I followed him inside. As I went further in, I realized what that scent was. It was the scent of home.

“Is this she?” a woman demanded in a sharp voice coming into view.

"Abigail," my father called her. I stood behind him studying her. Her eyes flew to me. She equally studied me with narrowed eyes and her hands on her hips. Her gaze traveled from my ruffled hair to my scuffed shoes, lingering on my old pink sweater. She looked at me as if I were something unpleasant she’d found stuck to her shoe.

“This is Jemima ,” he said to her. I saw her friend deepen.

"Oh, your bastard child!" Her voice dripped with something darker than disdain, something that made my skin crawl. I wanted to disappear into the floor and never resurface. Her words felt like a slap, a reminder that I did not belong here. I was the product of a one-night stand, a mistake my mother had decided she could not handle anymore. And now I had become someone else’s problem. "When would she go back?" The question hung in the air, heavy and uncomfortable.

“Abigail,” my father began just as I began to sense the building tension and the emotional storm brewing between them. "She will stay with us from now on."

"With us?!" A high pitched voice screamed behind Abigail. And I saw a girl about my age standing there. She was everything I was not, simply poised, polished and perfect. Her hair was neatly brushed and her posture straight. She looked down at me with a mixture of curiosity and contempt.

“Tamar come and meet your sister,” my father said to her.

"No father! I do not want a sister!" There was silence for a while as my father stared around. His face was impossible to interpret as he stalled.

“Well, she has no one now. We are all she has. Find her a place to sleep Abigail,” my father said to his wife breaking the silence. He turned to me with a pitiful look. "You will be fine here Jemima . You only just need to fit in here."

But that was the problem, I could never fit in anywhere.

And so once again I was alone in the darkness.