The Suzie Travesty Series: Pretty Faces

 

Author Chanelle Garzon 

 

 
 Pretty Faces

Mornings with mom banging stuff around in the kitchen always means she hasn’t had anything to drink. These mornings are the worst for me. While Tommy is out, mom has no one else to focus her attention on, so she comes after me. I remember one morning she woke me up by dragging me out of bed by my hair because she was hungry and there was nothing to eat. “Get up, Susie! You’re so goddamn lazy; you don’t do anything around this house. At least make me some damn breakfast!” So, I did. I made us both breakfast. When I sat down to eat, she picked up my plate and threw it across the room. I will never forget the look she gave me; full of rage. It was as though she wasn’t the one in the room with me–she was gone and the devil was standing in the kitchen. She just stood there looking at me. And I couldn’t move. I was too afraid. “I don’t think I made myself clear. I said make ME breakfast. What didn’t you understand?” When I tried to talk, she was already shutting me up. The blows to my face were enough for me to understand that I was never going to be able to eat breakfast at home. And ever since that morning, I haven’t. At least not in front of her.

Mom was once a beauty queen. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She had a body that hid the fact that she had two kids. Her hair was bright blonde, eyes of emerald green, and her smile displayed white perfection; she had it all. And she had the man of her dreams. Everyone would always tell me I looked just like her. I would smile because she was beautiful and that meant I was too. We were once a happy family, you know. Whenever holidays came around, neighbors would ask mom, “So, how’s the Brady Bunch?” I never knew what that meant, but it always made mom smile. She used to love me too. She would dress me up in pretty polka dot dresses and my hair would always be done without one hair out of place. She used to call me her princess and she was my queen. Dad and Tommy were close and we were all happy.

On Christmas Eve a couple years back, mom and I were in a really bad car accident. A truck ran a red light and smashed into our car going 45 miles an hour. I remember mom screaming and begging God for help. My hands were covered in red and all I saw was smoke outside of the window. Everything was a blur after that. I woke up in the morning feeling fine. Mom and I stayed in the hospital for a couple of days. I wasn’t allowed to see her. When dad and Tommy would visit, I would ask about mom. Dad would just look at my face and smile. He just looked at me for a moment as though he was taking in what I looked like. He caressed my face and said, “Mom is going to be fine. Don’t worry.” I didn’t know what he meant. Nothing was wrong with me, what could be wrong with her? But there was something wrong. When mom and I got released, dad took me home first. I was so happy that I was going to see her. I missed her. But when she got home, her face was wrapped in white bandages. And I couldn’t talk to her; she didn’t want to see anyone. I cried. Dad tried to cheer me up, but I couldn’t. “Everything will be ok. She’s just not feeling good, Susie. She’s going to be alright,” became the story on repeat for months.

The next day I overheard mom and dad arguing. Through the small crack of the door I saw mom walking around her bed throwing pictures all around the room. Dad was doing his best to calm her down, but mom didn’t listen. When she turned around I saw her face. At that moment they knew I was at the door. Dad opened the door and I couldn’t move. Mom’s face was ruined. Her hair was burned and frizzy. But the worst was her face. Her once perfect and porcelain skin was damaged with burns starting from her forehead to her collarbone. Her eyes had no sign of life in them and the emerald faded. “What? You don’t recognize your own mother, Susie? Am I not pretty enough like you?” She then bent down and picked up a small bottle of whiskey. She drank the last bit and threw it at me. “Go to your room and don’t come out,” dad said. And I did. Ever since then I was better dead than alive to mom.

Months went by and things got worse for me. Dad left and Tommy stayed. And they forgot I mattered. It makes me wonder if I ever did. Tyler doesn’t think so. “You ain’t shit, girl. They all know that. That’s why they treat you the way they do.” And he’s right. But that shouldn’t matter either. I don’t exist.

Chanelle Garzon © 2011 Lux News Group. All Rights Reserved.