C H A R A C T E R S T U D Y ⇁ ( 3 / 3 )
do you think we could go back , Mama ?
I. P R E G N A N C Y
to a time you loved me before you knew me ? before you knew I was blessed with your golden curls . your contagious smile . your constant sunshine on rainy days . your chromosomes : xx .
when you had painted the name penley across my crib and wondered how handsome your boy might be, who he would be . would he like to stop and smell the flowers like you ? or would he race through life without a glance back in your direction ? was he his father’s boy in your mind ? would he be benevolent ? would he pray every day to solve world hunger ? end global warming ? create a better place ? or would he do it himself ? would he be good ? would he love you back ? would he love you back ? would he love you back ?
II. B I R T H
to when you had accepted it ? that he would not . did you feel guilty when the doctor announced that it was me instead , and you felt a rush of relief ? or had you really wept tears because it was not penley soloman brooks ? I know you cried , but can you tell the truth this time ?
you were not happy . there was no sunshine in that sterile , blinding hospital room . and yet , you would not let me go . who was I to you then ? a perfect daughter or a disappointing son ? and which one was worse ? father said he thought you would smother me that night . and sometimes I wonder if he was the puppet on a string , not you . he said you had been the one to fix the crib so quickly . that you had cried the afternoon you took me home , so violent that you had a nosebleed . it had nearly stained the carpet in the nursery . did you hate me ? or were you just scared ? if you were trapped in a gilded cage , why did you put me in a glass one ?
III. Y O U T H
to those tea parties we would have in the backyard ? those naps we would have in the hammock . those games in the forest that God could not see , where we beat our chests and played boys’ games behind the veil of leaves and the brush of secrecy . I am sorry that father never knew who we were behind our blonde locks and blue eyes . that he never saw us truly happy . I think he would have understood if we told him that we didn’t want to be ladies , but women . I think he wouldn’t have drank more than you did on the weekends . I think when you both were sad that I was not a boy , we could have played make-believe under the trees’ canopy rather than make it painful to love you .
why did you give me space in my cell ? because you wanted me to be happy in the moment , or you wanted to see me struggle in the long-run ? I did not know what sex was yet , how I was different from the boy that I gave dandelions to at recess . why did they not have to wear dresses to church , mama ? why could I not touch them , not hug my best friend or kiss my neighbor ? where was my toy cars and star wars tennis shoes ? all outside my cage . I still cannot tell if this was what you wanted , or if you would have rather me been docile and pretty .
IV. A D O L E S C E N C E
to when I was not sure if you stared at me with pride or contempt when I dreamed so readily ? when I sat in front of that desk to study and work . why did you go silent after you opened the door and saw me there ? how many times did you do it : hesitated before you said that dinner was ready . we both knew I was not blessed with father’s brain . but were you really as dumb as you seemed after a few drinks , or as you acted when we had company over ? for awhile I had wondered if you just avoided thinking too much , focusing too hard like me , because you had to fight through a splintering headache to learn anything . ( but you were brilliant . why did I ever think you were stupid ? why would you let your own daughter belittle you when you could name every star in the sky and explain physics as easily as you sang me to sleep ? )
were you jealous ? did you want to take that desk and chop it to pieces ? burn all of my hard work ? see me fail after I worked so hard ? or were you sad ? that I would turn away from your touch and yet , still be subject to dropping my education for a life that neither of us wanted . we were all confused , especially father . how could I play the part of a lady everywhere else but at home ? why did I care about grades when there was a boy next door who had treated me right my whole life ?
how many times had you applied to flow’s for me ? how many times did I have to say no ? why did you try to hold me back ? you of all people . you knew what you did , because you would make breakfasts the morning after . throwing away wrappers as you went along . you knew that it had not been you crying until blood dripped from your nose , so did you ever hesitate looking at the tissues piled in the trash ? or did you bury the evidence of my sorrow under burnt bacon and eggshells like you did with yours ?
V. A D U L T H O O D
to a time where things were better ? to when I had not graduated and didn’t work a job unfit for a lady . to when you did not hate me . to when you thought that I was the perfect daughter . to when we giggled in the woods , slept under the stars , dreamt of something better . to when we used to sip melted popsicles in fancy tea cups , or stare at each other after you opened the door . to when you were not a stranger . to when I thought I knew you . to when you loved me back . to when you loved me back . to when you loved me back .
why can’t you say that you’re proud of me ? that I did it , I passed the test . that what I have done can only prove that I am your daughter . I wish you would hold me , mama . or just recognize that I am still here . I am not dead . you shouldn’t mourn like you are . I can still recognize it’s you when you pass on the street , even with your brown hair and black clothes . even if you don’t answer the phone , I can hear your voice . are you ashamed ? that you could make something so sinful ? you don’t even know the half of it and you hate me . and i’m sorry .