บท 9: 0009- A Shocking Discovery.
(BRENDA'S POV)
Even before I opened my eyes, the all too familiar smell of antiseptic told me I was in the hospital, a place that has inadvertently become my favorite place of late.
"You're awake, I can see your lashes fluttering," my mother's voice drifted to my ears, forcing me to open my eyes.
"Mother," I called, staring at her.
"You're awake, my child," she said, drawing her seat closer to the bed. "How do you feel?" She asked, an unsettling look of sadness and sympathy in her eyes.
I just couldn't place it, but I had a bad gut feeling about the look of sadness on her face. It was like she was silently sympathizing with me, about something I was not privy of.
"Mother, are you alright? You look sad," I said.
"What mother will be okay with her daughter lying in a hospital bed? Of course, I'm not fine," she responded sharply.
"What happened, mother?" I persisted. "I know you're sad, but you're hiding something. What is it?"
At this point, she looked away, but not before I saw the look of pain in her eyes. "I'm fine."
Panic rose in me now. Did something happen? I wondered, and made to sit up but I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen.
"Argh!" I yelled, wondering why I was hurting so badly there.
"Stay put, the doctor said you shouldn't undergo any stress until you've healed," my mother chided.
I frowned. "Healed of what? The last time I checked, I wasn't sick of anything. I only passed out."
My mother looked away again, her expression that of someone who had said something she wasn't supposed to say.
I was finally convinced that she was hiding something, and whatever it was, it was not good news. But I didn't care, I wanted to know what it was regardless. "Tell me what it is mother, or I will hurt myself!" I threatened, grabbing the infusion cannula on the back of my palm.
"Please, don't," my mum pleaded, fear appearing in her eyes.
"Then tell me what it is that you're hiding, or watch me rip this stuff off my hand," I said menacingly.
"Please, do not do anything stupid, Brenda. I promise to tell you when you're stronger, but for now, you're not fit to contain the news."
Her words only made my resolve firmer. I tugged at the cannula roughly, and that did the job.
"Fine, I'll tell you. You had a miscarriage and lost the baby," my mother announced.
I froze, and my hand left the cannula . I blinked, and gave a short laugh. "You're kidding, aren't you?"
"No, I'm not," mother said, shaking her head. "Before I brought you to the hospital, you already lost a lot of blood."
At this point, I wished I never asked. I wished she never told me, and maybe, I shouldn't have regained consciousness. My hands flew to my stomach and I gently pressed it, trying to feel my child.
"No, my baby! it can't be, it can't be!" I said, violently shaking my head like it will get rid of the horrible reality that has become my life.
And the first tear rolled down, and the second, and torrents, and soon, my entire body broke out in a sob. The pain was so unbearable, it felt like someone had thrust a dagger in my heart and was twisting it in different directions.
"Brenda, please quit crying," mother pleaded, but I wouldn't budge. She doesn't understand the pain I was feeling. The pain of losing a child even before I got to know him or her.
"No!!!" I screamed, my voice reverberating through the walls of the room.
*********
IN THE EVENING
I was discharged from the hospital, with tons of advice to rest, and analgesics to take for my abdominal pain. From the moment we left the hospital, to the ride home, I was silent. All my mother's efforts to get me to talk were met with silence. I just sat stiff and emotionless, while staring into space.
I couldn't cry anymore, because no matter how hard I wanted to, it seemed like I had exhausted the tears in my tear gland.
"We're home," mother announced as the cab pulled up in front of the house. I gave no reaction as I alighted from the car and morosely walked inside. I got to my room and sat on the bed, as I resumed staring into space.
"Get some rest," mother said, walking into the room. "I will go fix our dinner."
I didn't respond, just kept staring into nothing.
"I know you're hurt, but resorting to silence is dangerous. Don't act numb, Brenda. Don't hoard the pain, let it out."
But still, I didn't say a word. And when she realized I had no intention to, she sighed in resignation and walked out.
After she left, I thought about all that had been my life since I got involved with Desmond. I'm so unfortunate, full of bad luck and I don't deserve to live. Maybe death should take my life, and let me be relieved of all of these troubles.
Still in thought, I suddenly started hearing voices. At first, I thought they were products of my imaginations, but it grew louder and real. I snapped out of my trance to listen, and realized the voices belonged to my mother and someone I can't fathom, and disturbingly, they seemed to be having an argument.
I jerked from the bed, scared my mother was being harassed. I grabbed a stiletto with a pointy heel from my shoe rack, and stealthily tiptoed to the direction of the voice.
It was coming from the sitting room, and there I found mother and a slightly aged man, who looked older than her, arguing. I breathed a sigh of relief because aside from trading words, the man didn't pose a threat to my mother.
"What's going on here?" I asked, and my mother and the man swirled around to face me.
"Mother, why are you crying?" I asked, my grip on the stiletto tightening, as I noticed her tear streaked cheeks. And then I turned to the man, my stance threatening. "Who are you? Why are you in our home, and what did you do to my mother?"
The man approached me cautiously, his hands raised in surrender. "I mean no harm, Brenda. Me and your mother were merely talking and she got upset."
"How come you know my name?" I couldn't help but ask.
"Because I'm your father," he said.
I halted, and took a few steps backwards. Was this man crazy and had somehow wandered into our house to spew nonsense? My father was dead, and I doubt resurrection was a thing. "Look here, Sir, I do not want to disrespect you. Can you kindly see yourself out, because you are not only saying things that are not true, your presence is upsetting my mother. My father is dead, and I do not appreciate being reminded of him in this manner."
The man looked stunned. "Is that what your mother told you?" And then he turned to mother, "Catelyn, did you tell her I was dead?"
Wait, what? He knew and called mother's name like she was someone he knew on a personal level. And wait, what's that guilty look on mother's face?
"Mum, what is he talking about? My Father is dead, right? Even before I was born. You told me that, didn't you?" I asked, my heart racing.
But mother looked away and whispered, "He's your father. I lied."
I scoffed, thinking that that has to be the greatest joke of the century. "I think this joke is getting expensive–"
"Your father was never dead," my mother interrupted. "Robert, here, is your father," she added, motioning to the man.
The stiletto fell from my hands as I tried to process my mother's revelation. It was just too hard to contain. To believe that for decades, I've believed and lived with the lie that my father was dead.
"Why mother? Why did you lie to me?" I asked, finally finding my voice.
She avoided my gaze as she began to explain. "I did it to protect you, Brenda. Your father's family, they are not good people. At least, not to me. They're wealthy and influential, and just like your husband's family, they never liked me because I was from a poor family."
"That still doesn't explain Why you lied –"
"Let me speak!" My mother snapped, and I reluctantly kept shut.
"Things took a bad turn when your father got into an accident, and fell into a coma. His family blamed me for it, they said I was cursed," my mother paused and sniffed, and I noticed tears were brimming in her eyes. "They chased me away, told me never to come back. They threatened to take you away from me if I ever tried to see your father again."
At this point, my heart had softened a bit. It was ironic how my mom and I had faced the same thing in marriage. "They did all of these to you?"
My mother nodded, tears now streaming down her face. "I didn't know what else to do, Brenda. I wanted to protect you from them. And when I heard your father had survived the accident, and remarried, I chose to move on and decide that he was dead to me,to us. I didn't want you to ever have to leave me for his family someday."
I watched my mother cry after explaining, my heart swamped by different emotions. I was still trying to process the shocking revelation that my father was alive and standing in front of me.
"I'm sorry, Brenda," mother sobbed. "I should have told you the truth when you grew older. Forgive me, my child.
But I just stood there, unsure of what to do or say.
"I'm sorry too, Brenda," the man who is my father said, breaking the tension in the room. "I never remarried. The news about my remarriage was a false one. Truth is, I've been looking for you and your mother all these years. I thought I'd never find you two, but I never gave up."
"So how did you find us?" Curiosity made me ask.
"I was able to track you down because of the news going about you."
I swallowed hard, trying to mask my embarrassment. I knew the news was none other than the pictures of me and Kenneth.
"You look just like your mother, Brenda. I knew it was you the moment I saw your picture," my father continued. I was finding it hard to call him that.
"So what do you want from us now that you've found us?"
"I want us to reunite as a family," my father said, his eyes pleading. "I want to help you clear your name and stand back on your feet. I don't believe the scandal about you, Brendan. I might not know you well enough, but I know my daughter wouldn't do something like that."
My head was throbbing now, as I tried to digest and wrap my head around everything. Everything was happening so fast, and it felt like the life I was living wasn't mine.
"Please, just leave," I said, feeling overwhelmed. "I need time to think. What's important to me right now is my child. I need my child."
My father nodded. "Don't worry, Brenda. I'll go bring your child back to you right away.
My eyes narrowed, as I wondered if he wasn't bluffing. He had to be, because how the hell will he be able to bring Aurora back when he doesn't even know her, or Desmond's house. Even if he did, they would never release Aurora to him.
But without another word, he turned and exited the house, leaving me dumbstruck.
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