Too Young, Naive

“You weren't there, you wouldn’t know”

She says to me from across the room

I am talking about a house plant

She is asking about where it came from

She is actually asking why my father treats me with favour

“It’s just a plant” I say “It will survive wherever we put it”

“But where did it come from?” she asks

Her eyes said liar and mine say hypocrite

“You of all people should know, people can give things to you with malicious intent”

I know this but I say nothing

I don’t believe a small Geranium could hurt me

A geranium in a plastic coffee cup

Its organic curve against the manufactured one

"It's probably from his girlfriend" she spits like they are still happily married, like she was supposed to care

“Does it really matter? Dad wouldn’t give me something that would hurt me”

“Your father doesn’t care about plants” she replied

Her mouth saying maternal betrayal and her eyes saying traumatic pain

“My father cares about me” I reply “And I care about plants”

“You haven’t even looked after it” her eyes say suspicious and denial "I have"

That sounds a lot like the relationship between her and I

I would subtly nurture my relationship with others

She would take credit for that work with loud vibrato

I would be quiet and agree when I needed to

She would say that it was all her doing

"If it's that important to you, you can get rid of them" I say, my throat tight as I do

I'm unsure of why

"They're not mine to get rid of" she says back to me and I am reminded of our relationship more

Because you can't remove other people's things from your life

But you can bother them enough about it to make them feel it is the only option

Smother their feelings until they do your bidding

Pretend it's not your fault they did it

Pretend you gave them advice and not commands

"You only had to ask, Mum" I said, my chest heaving up at the breathe I didn't take in the silence

"But they're not mine to do as I please" she shrugs up like I started this conversation with her about a Geranium that my father happened to like

When I spoke to my father about this a few days later, he said that his friend Damien had given it to him, that he wanted a plant to put in his room to make it feel more like his

I respected this as my mother would have never considered this idea of my father

This truth that he really did care about plants

And he wanted to share

"This isn't about the plant, is it?" I challenge her and she immediately hardens, my words hitting a nerve that I rarely touched

"I just wanted to know where they came from"

"And I'm supposed to know?"

I see the breath she exhales jump back into her throat

"Why don't you just ask him?"

I have never questioned the collapse of their relationship

I always questioned their civility

I'm not a medium, mediator, meandering mess of a interpreter, I'm your child

But I say no more

She has already stopped listening

"I'm sorry I offended you" she lies as she leaves the room to escape the increased pressure

She thinks I'm a daddy girl

An ally to the enemy

A traitor

She doesn't realise that I am ally to no one

But my siblings

And myself

An ally to the quiet ones

My sister looks at me from across the room

Shaking her head

Don't continue

Don't engage

I cannot help myself

"It's a just a plant, Mum"