Sarah’s. Light glistened along the curves of the golden nameplate. Though it has been a little over a week since I moved to this flat, everytime I come home from the cafe, I stop by my name and I can’t help but beam with happiness. _ My very own flat. My very own cafe. In my name._ Still smiling, I went in. Exhausted from a busy day full of tea brewing and bubbling chitchats on a wonderful New year’s Day, I walked straight to the refrigerator. A sticky note of yesteryear’s resolutions, tattered and stained by my misery, was stuck on the door.
1. Get your own home.
2. Set your own cafe.
Around Christmas, I moved into this quaint coastal town and I couldn’t be merrier.
Or so I thought. “Sarah’s”. It had been two years since I heard him call my name. My heart started racing against my ribcage, as if in a nervous desperation to escape from being bound. “Sarah’s” repeated he and my heart leapt it had, five years ago.
Shaking his head, Jerry was slowly pacing in my living room, muttering to himself. “Sarah’s. Sarah’s. Sarah’s. I- I just don’t understand. How can you be?”. “How can I be what, Jerry?” said I, trying to stay as composed as possible. “Be happy. How can you be happy?” spit Jerry through his gritted teeth. How can I be happy? Don’t I get to be happy and peaceful, Jerry? I was hurriedly shushing my thoughts and the ghosts of the past, when Jerry barked, “You thought you could run away after the divorce? After ALL you did?”. He was clumsily inching closer to me, staggering each step, each word.
“Jerry, please.” Jerry, please.
I shut my eyes hard and breathed unevenly. “Jerry-” I gulped and stammered, “every- everything has already been resolved in the court. You- You shouldn’t really be here.” Jerry, please stay. Jerry continued pacing and muttering, “You are smiling to yourself. Smiling. You disappeared a year ago as if nothing happened and here you’re…. Smiling.” He stopped midway and slammed hard at the table as he roared,”Do you think what happened to my child can be ‘resolved’?” My child. My child. My child. Jerry! She is your kid as well. Memories came flooding, with each pleading echoing off the walls of my empty mind like faint ghostly cries of a thousand years in a haunted mansion. ‘I shouldn’t lose my composure. Stay calm, Sarah. Breath in’ I chanted to myself. “My child is still missing, Sarah. It was all your fault, Sarah. YOUR FAULT.” Jerry, yet again said what he and his family had hammered into my head. Jerry continued, “And here you’re living happily without an ounce of grief. Oh yeah, why would you? Only a good mother would grieve. In fact, if you were a good mother, Lily would be here with me right now.” Lily. My daughter Lily. Jerry’s words were ringing in my ears as my temples began thumping with pain. If you are a good mother. If you’re a good mother.
“And were you a good father, Jerry? You know Lily wouldn’t have gone missing if you were home a little often, if you were there to help me take care of a two year old.” My head was starting to feel dizzy as I felt myself saying things I must have told him a thousand times already. And now, there’s no going back.
“Heck, were you even a good husband, Jerry? Were you ever there for me?” I choked a little as my eyes started getting moist. “I was bloody working, Sarah. And you were supposed to take care of her. I mean- that’s why you stayed home for two whole years doing nothing. But all you did was stuff your face with food and complain.”
I clutched my kurti, clasping air within my fist. I clutched my kurti and pulled it close to my body as if saying ‘Jerry, look! I have shed off all those pounds. Look!’. Oh, how I longed to say those words during those two years Lily was growing up. How I longed to be the Sarah Jerry fell in love with. To be the Sarah whom Jerry thought was beautiful. They say a woman’s body expands like a balloon when a child within grows. But then, once you deflate a balloon, it shrinks back. There’s no way you could say the balloon has already been blown. But a woman… her body becomes a battleground with stretch marks running long like trenches. No one likes to see a trench today. No one likes to be reminded of the war and the responsibilities that reverberate. Everyone just wants to reap the benefit of the post-war developments. Nations celebrate the genius of humankind and scientific splendor that the atomic bomb was. But how many do truly acknowledge what their genius has unleashed?
“-can’t even talk about me. Do you remember what kind of a mother you were, Sarah?” ‘I have wondered the same thing many a times, Jerry. I have wondered for those two years. And I still remember everything you told me, Jerry.’
Gosh, look at you. Haha! My daughter came here just a few weeks back and she’s already making her amma cry.
Aww. Look at this cutie patootie, Sarah. Look at our chakare. She can drive away your tiredness with her adorable smile.
Why are you crying with Lily, Sarah? Just pacify her. You are the mom. You know better.
My God. You’re staying at home with your daughter and you say you need a break? What do you even need a break from?
Sarah! For Christ’s sake, stop her from screaming. We’re at the convenience store. People are staring. I’m not buying her any more chocolates lest she becomes like you. Now, take her and do something.
Do something. Do something. Do something.
‘But have you ever wondered if you did something, Jerry?’ Letting out a sigh, I asked Jerry to stop and leave the place. I have got no clue how he managed to trace me down so far away from home, but whatever it is, this is bad. But Jerry wasn’t paying heed like always, “You weren’t a good mother and I had to pay the price for it. My child has to pay the price for it. Do you even search for her or at the very least think of her like any good mother would? ”.
Good mother. Good mother. Good mother. The words kept ringing in my head. Just like Lily’s screams. Someone stop it. Stop it. My head was buzzing with static as it all crashed in.
You’re not a good mother.
Learn to enjoy motherhood.
My granddaughter is missing because of you. Die, you wretch!
Who doesn’t like children?
Amma!
Stop blaming your daughter for your laziness, Sarah.
Amma!
Stop being selfish, Sarah.
Amma!
“Amma was right, Sarah. You are a selfish woman, unfit to be a mother. A witch, you are.”
Witch. That was what I was. Everyone had said that. My own mother, my in-laws, friends, Jerry. My Jerry whom I love the most. The same Jerry who promised to stay by my side through sickness. But the only sickness Jerry saw was my irritability and mood swings when it came to Lily. And oh! Also, my inability to lose all those pregnancy pounds like those “super moms” on instagram. ‘I tried, Jerry. And I do love my daughter’. But every single time, Lily’s screaming felt like a lobectomy on my brain. Lily made me claustrophobic in my own mind. And she wouldn’t stop. Jerry was right when he said Lily wasn’t even hyperactive. He was right when he said something was up with me and my constant complaints. But I did more than that. I wailed. I wailed every time I snapped and locked Lily in the cupboard. I wailed every time I beated her. I wailed and wailed for help everytime i said,
Hey, why don’t you cook dinner for the ladies at home.
Hey, how about a dad’s day? Lily hasn’t formed a proper bond with you.
She’s your child too, Jerry.
I wailed everytime I couldn’t understand how Jerry gets to chill but I don’t. But I was the mother, Jerry wasn’t. I was screaming for help! in every way possible. But no one helped. Because good mothers don’t need help with their children.
Ironically, it was New Year’s Day too and Lily was exceptionally loud. Jerry was out partying and drinking away his stress with his colleagues. Would he have stayed home if he knew his daughter would go missing that evening? Would he have had a proper New year’s dinner with me? Would we have been a happy family, years later? I don’t know. All I knew was it was New Year’s Day and Lily wouldn’t stop being a brat. I was surprisingly calm and tried to pacify her with candies. I fed her a lot of them too. But she wouldn’t stop. When the candy box was empty, I went shop to shop, looking for her the sweetest of the chocolates. But she wouldn’t stop. You see, Jerry used to say Lily has a huge appetite like her amma. But unlike me, Lily is allowed to feast on everything she wants. So I fed her, fed her and fed her. Jerry was right. A selfish witch I was. Witches feed children with a lot of sweets because at low flame for a long duration, the fat melts making the meat tender and flavourful. My poor Jerry. He was worried sick about ‘his’ daughter that he was low on carbs and sugar.
Sweet child, my Lily was. Jerry was like a sad, burnt meat.
Sitting at my table with a fork in one hand, I look over at the note on the fridge.
Jerry made me break it on the very first day.