"Hello Ryila." Mom weekly walked into my room. She pulled 'Shrek' out of my bookshelf and sat next to me on the bed. "Dear Ryila." She fluffed my hair and kissed the top of my head.
"Hi mama," My six year old brain couldn't understand my mom's illness.
"Oh how much I love you." Her voice sounded like a dream, exactly like always had.
"Weed," I pointed at the book. My childish voice made the word 'read' sound like 'weed'. Mom opened the book and read. She flipped the pages and gracefully pointed out the pictures. I laughed at the funny parts and dug my face into her lap when I was scared or sad.
"That’s enough for tonight Ryila." She closed the book. "My dear Ryila I will miss you badly." My mind jumped to those times when mom used to go on business trips.
"Mama, are you going to vacation again," Another childish mistake shown through.
"I wish that was the case darling." She paused sadly, I wish I understood. "It's time mama told you what's going to come. Ryila, do you remember when Mama used to go to the doctor every week?" That dreaded place. I remembered; I used to go with her. Those needles stuck in her chest always made her ill. Each time she went, Mama got sicker. "Darling girl, Mama went to do those things for you." I didn't understand I didn't like the way mom acted after a visit at the doctor.
"Mama, I don't like that place."
"Oh," She cooed comfortingly. Her eyes twinkled as she looked into mine.
"Mama, do you have to go back to that place?" My eyebrows creased in question.
"No baby. Not anymore. But I'm afraid the result of not going isn't a very good thing."
"What is it Mama?" She could make out the wrinkles of concern on my face.
"Girly, no matter what happens; I want you to take care of your Papa." I nodded at her, knowing she had to leave, and she wasn't coming back this time. She handed me a book with a red cover. "Open this when you miss me the most, and not before."
"Mama, don't leave!" I decided I was going to convince her to stay.
"I don't have a choice Ryila." I looked at her with despair. "I must explain myself to you, although I know you won't understand."
"I do Mama, I do!" I didn't want to disappoint her.
"Ryila, mommy is sick."
"Take my pink stuff Mommy." I only called her mommy on special occasions.
"Not that kind of sick darling. Mama is so very ill and the doctors can't fix it any more. Dear girl, I will always love you."
"Can't you get better Mama?"
"No, I'm afraid not Ryila. The doctors told me I have to leave in two months."
"Oh." I was sad, but didn’t know how to express myself. "Oh," I repeated.
"I will stay as long as possible dear, I'll do anything for you, but do understand I will always love you."
The scene began to become blurry. I swept back into the real world. That was the past. Those were the days when Mama spoke out loud to me. Hugged me tight and told me she loved me over and over as she cried. I cried back, knowing it was the right thing to do, but I still didn't understand. Now I did.
"Mama," I spoke out loud. She lay still on the bed like she had for the last two years. She was supported by tons of monitors who breathed for her and pumped the blood through her body. A long comma I suspected she'd never come out of. Occasionally she'd squeeze my hand, but she never opened those beautiful green eyes that matched mine. I glanced at the red book that sat on the bed stand, I wanted to open it, but knew Mama didn't mean for me to open it now, she was still here, still with me.
I didn't care. I picked up the book, for the first time since Mama went into her comma. I opened it and saw Mama's writing scrawled across the page.
Dear, dear Ryila,
I know when I left you; you were at a very young age. I left you with so many questions; I know your father will never answer. This letter will answer your questions. Sweat baby girl, when you turned five, I became ill. The doctors diagnosed me with a type of lung cancer. Not to fret darling, I never smoked. I wouldn't have ever tried the chemo if it weren’t for you. But I loved you so much; I couldn't stand the thought of you losing me. After a year or so, doctors told me there was nothing to be done. That was the day I told you I had to go away. I gave you this book. Here is my letter to you. It is a diary that I have wrote little notes in every here and there. Please don't go looking for them; I want you to find them as surprises each day. I miss you much, just writing this Ryila. I hope your father is raising you well. Love you, Mama.
I squeezed Mama's hands. I could imagine her saying that in her beautiful voice. I wanted to answer her, but I didn't know if she would understand. I decided it would be a waste of words.
"Kimberly!" Papa called, He'd called me that ever since Mama went into her comma. He said he hated the name Ryila that Mama had made up and was going to call me something more sophisticated.
"I hate that name!" I called back. "The name Ryila is part of me, and part of Mama, if you hate it so much, I don't even know why you married her!"
He looked hurt, "I can't stand to remember her, it hurts the heart to bad."
"Call me Ryila for me then, not her! It's the name I like, and if you love me, then you'll respect the fact that I want to be called Ryila." I'd never confronted father like this. He looked at me and nodded.
"Very well, Ryila." The way he spoke sounded to proper to ever be a father. Father was a lawyer and always had to make the best of an argument, so naturally I was surprised when I heard him say my name. It was the first time I heard him say my true name since Mama went into the long sleep.
"Come Ryila." He walked into the kitchen where a bowl of eggs sat waiting for me. I sat down in the chair and smoothed my black crimped skirt out. I leaned over the bowl as to not spill the yellow eggs all over my white shirt with lace at the top. "Hurry Ryila, I have a case this morning I need to tend to, and you need to get to school." I started wolfing down the eggs and chugged the apple juice. "Ryila, that isn't much lady-like."
"Yes Father." I sat up strait and sipped the juice slowly. When I was done, I smoothed out the skirt again and started towards the door.
"Have you flossed your teeth and brushed your hair?"
"No Father."
"Do so." I started towards the bathroom and began to comb through my hair and brush my teeth. Again I headed for the door and put on my pair of blue flats. "Ryila, how many times must I tell you?" Every day I tried to push past my father without applying the makeup. "You must have a good appearance if you want respect."
"Yes Father." I went into my room and stood before the mirror. I brushed on the eye shadow, and patted the blush upon my cheeks. For the third time I went to the door.
"Stand up straight." Dad inspected me head to toe. "Good. Let's go." We got into dad's car, as he believed busses were dirty and caused disease. We drove in science to the private school and when we arrived, I grabbed for my bag and got out of the car. As dad drove away, I ran into the building. Another day of waiting for Mama to awake, another day of worrying about Mama's death.
"Hey Addie," I greeted my friend as I passed her locker.
"Oh, Hi Ryila, Has your mom woke up yet?"
"Not yet, but I read her letter to me this morning, she left it for me before she went into the comma."
"Oh, I'm going to go to math, I was late yesterday and Mr.Reigen is really mad at me."
"OK, see you at lunch." She nodded and I left to get my things for social studies and went straight there." In the hour we corrected a worksheet about World War 1 and filled out an outline while watching a video. When the bell rang I went straight to literature where we read chapter six of our new book and corrected another worksheet. Luckily I got A's on everything we corrected because Father yelled at me if I got anything less and grounded me from seeing Mama for a whole week for each worksheet.
"Today we're going to share grades." Mr. Bauer announced to the class when I made it to homeroom. "Ryila," I went to the desk and looked at the computer. "Perfect condition," I was glad everything was 97 percent or higher. I started to walk away, "Wait Ryila how'd this happen?"
"Huh?" I glanced at the screen. In science I had a 'B'. "NO!" My legs began to shake. A tear rolled down my cheek.
"Ryila, it's only a 'B', your less than .10 points from an 'A'." He reached for me right as I bolted from the spot where I was standing and ran out of the room. I raced down the hall way ignoring the people who stood in my way. I ran and ran until I found an open door. I went into the room and shut the door behind me. It was a janitor's closet. There were mops and brooms spread around the closet. I heard the door click as it closed. I frantically tried to open the door but it wouldn't budge.
"Help," I yelled, "Help, I'm in here!"
"Ryila, where are you,'' I heard Mr. Bauer’s voice in the hall, I yelled out to him but he didn't hear me.
I waited hours but nobody ever came for me, "Help," I yelled occasionally.
"Ryila," People's voices called my name ever now and then. Eventually someone opened the door. "Ryila," Mrs. Weber looked at me, "Why didn't you come out?"
"I couldn't, the door was locked!"
"Why didn't you yell for us?"
"I did, nobody heard me!''
"Oh Ryila," She pulled me towards her, "Why did you run, it's just one 'B'.
"No, no it's not! Father won't let me see Mama until I get it back up to an 'A'. And an 'A-' isn't good enough for him."
"Ryila, your Father told me your Mom was dead."
"My Mama is not dead!" I started crying hysterically, "Mama's been in a comma for two years. Every time I get bad grades Father locks the door to her room till I can get my grades up. Father hates her so much; he doesn't even call me Ryila."
"What does he call you dear?"
"Kimberly," I said while looking at my shoes.
"Kimberly is a fine name."
"But it's not the name my Mama gave me!"
"Oh sweetie, I'll talk to your daddy." She led me to her car since it was long past the time when the busses left. "Let's go Ryila, I'll drive you home.''
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