Capítulo 6: Jeannie - Family Dynamics

“Odd seeing her like this.” I pulled the blanket up around me. It was soft from many uses.

Extra blankets and pillows had been brought in as well as the rollaway bed. They had moved chairs around until a space on the far side of the hospital bed had been cleared. Mary sat on the bed with her back against the wall. Her eyes rarely left Mom.

Mary nodded. “She’s been getting worse for several months now.”

Silence stretched between us. That happened a lot. There was not much for us to talk about. Never had been. What could we talk about with twenty years difference between us?

At my birth, Mary was nearly twenty years old and off at college. My entire life she had never really been someone at home. At college and then married before graduating. She had never lived with me, not as a sister usually does. In reality, she was more of an aunt to me, distant and never close.

Growing up, I spent time at her home, but I played with her daughter. I was too young to be a real sister to her. We never shared secrets, hopes, or yearnings. For sure, we never shared clothes or makeup. Now we sat across from each other on a more equal level.

“Was Mom’s tongue always so sharp?”

Mary’s eyes quickly darted to me. She sighed as she gave me a small smile. “I guess so.”

“She was always so bitter.” I thought back on many instances of my life when Mom’s voice was filled with venom. She wasn’t always like that, but there were moments she could be nasty to anyone or about anyone.

Sometimes her tone wasn’t so hostile, but the results were devastating. Once she looked at me with a loving smile and said, “I’m so glad you are Plain Jane.” Oh, I knew her intent. It was not to belittle me. She was glad I wasn’t beautiful and popular because I would be out all the time with friends instead of being home with her. Yet it made me feel small and too ugly to be of any consequence.

I guess she had a reason though not an excuse. As a young girl, she had faced a lot of hardship and trials. Over the years, she had become bitter and resentful. The tongue got sharper. We all had been victims.

Her past was a sad secret that only came out in bits and pieces over the years. They knew she had been raised in a poor household despite the wealth of her grandfather whose house they lived in. They knew she hadn’t been happy. She had grown into something bitter and resentful.

“Yes, it could hurt at times.”

Silence filled the room again. Why was I so uncomfortable talking to my own family? Maybe it was because I had never really spent any quality time with any of them. I saw all of them twice a year and then mainly at holidays. They were more like acquaintances than siblings.

I looked over at Mom who looked peaceful as she slept. She hadn’t been a bad parent. She was flawed like we all were. After all these years, I still couldn’t get a solid read on her. Mom kept so many things tightly sealed up. There were things about her I did not know or understand. When I tried to have heart to heart talks with her, she’d clam up and physically leave the room. Saying she was private was an understatement.

“You mentioned she was being nicer?” I broke the silence.

Two weeks earlier when Mom had taken such a downturn, Mary had commented how Mom’s tongue had not been so sharp. She was actually nice to people. She wasn’t negative or cut people off at the knees. She was pleasant to be around.

Mary nodded. “Yes, she was a very different person. Hasn’t snapped at a nurse yet.”

That was a change. Mom seemed to find fault with everyone and everything. No one was ever quite good enough for her. Odd how she always complained that her own mother had been that way. That wasn’t the memory I had of Granny, but the role of mother is vastly different that it is from grandmother. Mom had said her mother always pointed out her faults which angered her. Then why was she the same way?

“Do you think she was bitter because of her childhood?” That was a loaded question. It was one that could never be a simple yes or no. Was anyone’s childhood as pleasant as they might have wished.

With a shrug, Mary looked at me. “I honestly don’t know. I know Granny wasn’t the nicest to her kids. She was very short with Mom and Lilly. I remember quite a few times where she complained that Mom wasn’t keeping her house clean enough.”

That was a laugh. Mom had such a clean house that one could eat off the floor and probably have a safer dining experience than at any five star restaurant. She cleaned from the time she woke up until she closed her eyes each night. Yet that seemed to not be enough for our grandmother. Mom’s childhood had not been easy.

Does anyone have a functional childhood? Mom’s father had died when she was only eleven. Her mother was left to raise her three children alone in an era where women struggled to do anything without a man in their lives. Our grandmother had worked hard to feed and clothe them which did not leave her time to be a mother. Mom’s childhood was not an overly happy one, but so many people could claim the same thing. I guess I could too if I spun it the right way. I could point out every time Mom hurt my feelings or didn’t treat me fairly. There was the time she pointed out that I was foolish watching the Olympic ice skaters and wishing I was one of them. I wasn’t graceful enough to ever be successful in that. We all have dysfunctional childhoods.

My mind drifted to a movie I had seen recently and had stuck with me. “Have you ever seen the movie, The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya-Sisterhood?”

“No.”

That wasn’t surprising. Mary wasn’t one who watched many of the newer movies that were produced. She considered them too vulgar. I couldn’t argue with her on that score as too many were. This movie would not have appealed to her. It was too raw and dealt with topics too close to home at times.

“I think it is very applicable. In the story, a young woman is about to be married but struggles with her own past. Her mother’s lifelong friends kidnap her to explain why her mother was the way she was. To sum it up, the young woman was the way she was because of how her mother treated her. Her mother was the way she was because of how her parents were and so on. We are all such complicated creatures. Mom is the result of generations.”

After I had watched the movie, I had thought on it for days, weeks. I had thought on myself. I was introverted because of my mother and others in the family. Over the years, I had learned to watch and listen very closely. I heard what people said behind other’s backs. I heard what they said about me. They were all nasty and mean when one wasn’t around. Because of that, I was too scared to talk or interact with people because I knew they were not thinking positively about me.

My mother was bitter because of her mother and family. Her mother was harsh with her. Her father was never around. She had no money and struggled even as a child to live up to expectations.

Her mother was an angry woman because of her own parents and other family members. It was a domino effect. No generation leaves future ones untouched. Our actions will have results generations from now. We could trace ourselves back to the beginning of time. Guess we could blame it all on Adam and Eve. That’s how we are supposed to it, blame it all on those who can’t defend themselves.

Mary sat back against the wall and thought on my words. I could see her mind tossing my words about. She chewed on the corner of her lower lip and looked at nothing beyond my head. After several minutes, she gave a slow nod. “That makes sense. I can think of many things I do because of her or Dad. There are mannerisms and then there are things I do in reaction to what they did.”

I was surprised at how quickly she had accepted this explanation. Normally, my suggestions were pushed aside as though I was too ignorant to know anything. My words were dismissed. I was always too young and ignorant of life. What had changed? Why did she not dismiss me immediately. Well, I wouldn’t let the opportunity slide. I had no idea if it would ever happen again.

“It would explain so much. I think it explains a lot about the family dynamics of ours and any other family.”

My sister gave a small snort. “Yep.”

Families were never easy to understand. They were not easily viewed and explained. Every person was a multi-dimensional being. Every relationship had different layers and perspectives. Few could be seen as all good or all bad. They were a mixture of every characteristic and periodically changed. We all grew and changed. We became more complicated.

Looking at Mary, I thought of how complicated just she was. The oldest, she was typically the most level of us all. She was the calmest and most unadventurous. She was the one who spent her time cooking, cleaning, and working in her flower garden. Yet she had a temper when pushed too far. As a child, I saw her as a mother figure. As a teen, I saw her as a friend held at a distance. As an adult, I saw her as a mysterious stranger. How I longed to break into her levels and learn more about her.

“I remember Mom reminiscing with you guys. I was so envious. It sounded like so much fun as you talked about your adventures when you were younger.”

How I wish I had been born when my siblings were small children. They told stories of adventures and experiences that made my life appear so boring. I grew up with imaginary playmates and farm animals as friends. I had to create my own adventures. They lived those adventures. Such a colorful life compared to my sepia one.

Mary laughed at my wishful words. “It wasn’t as much fun as you think.” Her own words sounded bitter, even pained. I saw a shaft of pain in her blue eyes.

The tone was far from lost on me. I began to push, but Mary began to settle down on the bed as though going to sleep. I took that to mean the conversation was over, but I was not satisfied. Deep down, I wanted to push it and get to know more about their childhood, but I also knew that my family was not one to talk about anything. They had all inherited Mom’s secretiveness. What happened in their lives stayed in secretly locked rooms.

I decided to just sleep on the couch. Getting a pillow and blanket, I settled down in the dim light. Sleep was nowhere close enough for me to tap it. I just started at the form sleeping in the bed and watched my sister out of the corner of my eye. She was laying down with her arm propping the pillow up where she could watch Mom.

What did I really know about my oldest sibling? She was stubborn. Then again, we all were so that wasn’t a unique trait and not one hard to pinpoint. Dad had described her as odd Was that the best word for her? He hadn’t meant odd as in eccentric person who read auras or was flighty. She was just not like everyone else.

Mary was a loner. Mom said she never played outside with the others. She preferred to cook and sew. She was a homebody. I recall her cooking and making clothes for her own daughter She was not as outgoing as the others. She wasn’t one to call and chat. She called Mom and Dad once a week like clockwork. Me? I never really heard from her until recently. She would send birthday cards and such, but just to talk? Never. That’s why I could never say that I really knew her.

Looking at her now, I didn’t know her any more than I did when I was a small child. She was an enigma to me. We were nearly strangers.

I decided to bite the bullet. “Why have we all never been close?”

She blinked in surprise and looked across the room at me. I had done the unthinkable. I had dared to push one of us to talk about our true feelings. She had already vented about Ann. I wasn’t sure she could handle doing a second time in the same year.

“Leslie and Mark were close. They still are to a degree.”

From what I had heard of them growing up, they were inseparable. Now… “Even then they aren’t really close. The rest of us aren’t. I know I was so much younger, but even when I got older, I noticed how distant everyone was.”

Her eyes moved back to Mom. “That’s just the way we were.”

I didn’t respond. I wanted to. I wanted to say that we were still that way. Why? What brought us here? While I was the one who broke from the family the most, I found myself unable to push the subject. My upbringing was stronger than I had imagined. I would let it lie for now. I was reverting to being a coward again. Never face our problems. That was the family motto.

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