Static Dreams: Chapters 1 & 2

Static Dreams

End to a Ride  [E] #1245625 The Prologue to Static Dreams by checkmate!

Chapter One

My first memory is not a happy one. I was around four years old, a chubby girl in worn denim overalls. They were my favourite thing to wear, which explained all the grass stains and holes in the legs. My mother hated them, and when my mother hated something, everyone had to know about it. That day, she was more vocal than normal, which meant she had broken off plans with her special friend again. I had learnt to avoid her when that happened, she was liable to find fault with everything I did and said. It happened whenever Daddy said he would be home from work early. Being a criminal lawyer, he spent more time in his office and in the courthouse than he did at home with us. It was clear to both Nanny and I that my mother preferred it that way. This particular day, she had returned to bed after he promised at breakfast to be home early, and had not got up until noon. It suited me fine, as I was able to play outside without having to worry about being captured and taken inside, to pursue a more lady-like activity than making dirt pies. Nanny tidied my room. My overalls were still reasonably clean when I heard the tap-tap of high heels on the concrete path.

“Isobel! What have I told you about playing out here?” The voice was high-pitched and disapproving, with an impatient quality in it. I suppose that was fair enough, I had been told many times. “I will remind you again, but for the last time. Do not play in the dirt! Play with your dolls, girl, and sit on a blanket. You’re not one of those hooligan Thomas boys.”

My lower lip turned down in a pout, and I dropped my carefully made blueberry-dirt pie. She always ruined my games, and nothing I said made any difference. Nanny was too scared to say anything, for fear of losing her job – my mother was prone to hasty decisions.

My mother snapped her fingers. “Now. Do what I tell you.” She seemed to look at me properly for the first time. “Those are the overalls I threw out, are they not? Wicked, disobedient girl. I buy the prettiest clothes for you, clothes I would have loved to have at your age, and how do you thank me? By dressing like a gypsy boy.”

“I like my overalls,” I declared stubbornly, my four year old mind not being wise enough to stop when I’m behind. “So does Daddy.”

“Daddy!” She threw back her head and laughed. “Your daddy doesn’t like your overalls, he just doesn’t like disagreements. Besides, I’m the one in charge of you. You don’t see him here when you’re sick, or in need of help. All he does is pay the bills.” The fact that is was Nanny that did this for me, not her, was seemingly unimportant. “Take those dirty things off.”

My grey eyes brimmed over with tears. She’s horrible; I wish she would go away. The backyard is my area, she’s supposed to be out with one of her many friends. I know she doesn’t have a headache like she complained this morning. When she does, she never ventures out of the house, wanting to avoid the sun. I bravely continued to defy her, wishing that Nanny would come out and rescue me. “No, I won’t. You have to make me!”

My mother is not one for taking charge of me, physically. It’s part of the reason why Nanny has been around since I was born. She wants others to do the dirty work for her, despite needing to be in control of every aspect of her life. It was to my surprise then that she strode across the lawn, not even worrying about the state of her heels, and hooked her hand into the back of my overalls.

“Let go of me!” I cried, horror-struck at the invasion and the feel of her nails scraping against my back.

She ignored me, and pulls me to my feet. A tall woman, she’s not what anyone would call weak – and besides, I don’t weigh that much. She undid the buttons at the top of my overalls, so that it flops down my front. “Get it off right now,” she ordered, “then run inside and put on your new pink dress.”

“No, I won’t,” I declared, struggling to pull out of her grip. “I wanna wear my overalls, go away, you meanie.”

She let go of me only to slap me promptly in the face. “Little brat,” she spitted, and spun away. “For the love of Christ. What have I done to deserve this?”

Without bothering to do up my straps, I run inside, tears streaming down my hot face, screaming for Nanny. The last I see of my mother that day is her taking two bottles out of the dining room cabinet. Nanny comforted me as best she can, but I remained quiet and refused to do anything throughout the day. Nanny says my mother has high levels of stress, but it makes no difference to me. The fact that she slapped me is all I need to know. Nanny muttered something about habits and lack of control, but for once I didn’t try to listen, just tried to rub some dirt off my overalls.

After that, my mother ignored me. When she was at the house, she kept to her rooms, even at mealtimes. I would like to think it due to remorse, but I’m afraid that it was more due to a desire to not see me. After all, I was a disappointment. She wanted a child like her, a delicate, pretty girl, interested in fashion and all things feminine. I only fulfilled one of those qualities, and my “boyish actions” meant that it was hidden behind dirt most of the time. Nanny told me that I only behaved like any normal child. With her being more of a mother to me than my biological one, I believed her and made no changes to please my mother. I was happy, Nanny was happy, and that was enough for me. My mother seemed aware of this, and spent progressively less time with me as I grew up. She became a figure rather than a person, and I took joy in being able to do whatever I wanted, within reason.

Chapter Two

I was twelve years old before my mother decided to get rid of Nanny. I was able to cook and clean for myself, so it was a waste of money to keep her on, in my mothers eyes. Being closer to her than anyone else, I of course saw it differently. My arguing and crying made no difference, and I found myself alone. I wandered through the house, feeling lost. She was the one to take me to school on my first day and wipe away my tears afterwards. I told her everything important, and everything unimportant as well. My friends assumed she was my mother when they first met her, and I was tempted to not correct them. Needing money, she was moving to Boston to look after another little girl – so I wouldn’t even be able to visit her. The house felt bigger than it ever had before, but I learned to amuse myself and make sure everything that needed to be done was done. I had no other choice.

As I became older, I made closer friends and found my place in the world. I liked to read and write, and had joined some social groups at school, including the school newspaper. Although my home life was not what I would have wished for, I was happy. This was soon to change, although I didn’t know it. My father was having trouble at work. As he was a lawyer, I assumed that his job was secure, but I seemed to be wrong. The firm wasn’t making much profit, apparently, and downsized because of it, when I was fifteen. Daddy was one of the ones laid off. This in itself was not an immediate problem. We had a savings account, and he would surely be able to find another job quickly. I was looking forward to spending a bit of time with him before hand, so when I ran downstairs one Saturday morning I was disappointed to hear him and my mother engaged in an argument.

“…not as simple as that. I need to find a job with a possibility of promotion, so this doesn’t happen again,” I overheard Daddy say in a controlled voice from the passage. “It will take at least a few weeks.”

There was a pause, then my mother replied, “But the savings are for special trips, and to send Isobel to college. We can’t use them. You’ll have to find a job before your severance pay runs out.”

“Isobel? Since when did you care about Isobel?” Daddy replied quickly. “And since when are you willing to live on a budget, as we would have to for your idea to work?” He sounded suspicious, and I didn’t blame him. Mother never took an interest in financial matters, and didn’t talk much to him full-stop.
“I am able to face reality, although you clearly do not think so.”

“Maria, I am getting an awful suspicion, and I hope it’s not correct.” I could clearly imagine him knitting his woolly eyebrows together. “I haven’t checked on the savings account for quite a while…” He trailed off, but it was clear what he was thinking.

No sound came from the room for many heartbeats.

“It’s my money too,” my mother finally said, softly but defiantly.

Daddy, like me, is not given to confrontations, but as he walked out the room I heard him mutter, “Like hell it is.”

I tried to scamper up the stairs before he saw me, but it was more than difficult with the room being right in front of me. He didn’t seem to mind though, just shook his head. It could have been at me, or about what he had just discovered. Either way, I gently said, “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“It’s not your fault.” He stood there for a second, seeming to gather resolve. “Right. Maria?” he called, turning back into the room. “We’re going down to the bank right now, to see what are options are. They might not be needed, but if they are, we need to know what’s possible.”

I had never understood why he was so patient with her. He never yelled, never complained, even though she was horrible to him. By this time, I had come to understand the truth of what she did when he wasn’t around. I had had more arguments with her than he had, and she had done a lot less to me.

True to form, she shot me a nasty look as she came out the room and saw me standing there. I was surprised she was agreeing to go along – maybe she actually felt guilt for once. My bubble of hope was broken when they got to the door.

“You can drop me off at Eliza’s afterwards,” she commanded. “I was going to go over there today anyway.”

Daddy said nothing, just held the door open for her. I heard the car pull away a few minutes later and slowly moved into the kitchen. The savings were gone, but somehow it didn’t surprise me. My mother’s underhandedness had been proven years ago, after all. I grabbed a couple of pieces of fruit then headed out the house myself, deciding to go to the library. After all, there was no reason to worry. We might have less money, but that would only really impact my mother. I might have to buy less food, but that would be about it. I walked to the library feeling just as happy as usual.