Broken Page 2

  Mother grabbed Tamara and held her. Don squeezed past them, determined not to disrupt the reunion that had been fourteen years in the making. Don was content. He’d lit a spark. He expected the journey to total family restoration to be long and bumpy, with many sections unpaved, but the first step had been executed with perfection. The ladies were talking without fighting, which was a great sign. His abilities were limited. Keeping the flame of restoration burning was up to them. Don eased out the door to tell the cab driver to go on, since it looked like they would be visiting longer than planned.

  He hustled back up the four flights of stairs to Tamara’s flat. Her phone was ringing. Tamara and Mother were both sitting on the sofa sleeper.

  “Nice place,” Madeline said, glancing around the room. It was so small she didn’t have to get up from her seat to take in the entire flat.

  “Oh, come on, your master bedroom closet is larger than this condo,” Tamara said. Don knew it was true but it didn’t really matter.

  “At least you still remember a few things about home.”

  “There’s a lot I remember, and most I’d like to forget.”

  Don could feel the harmony evaporating. The mere mention of home had Tamara sounding irritated. “I’m so glad to have both of you together,” he said, fanning the flame, unwilling to watch it burn out so quickly. Mother and Tamara were cordial. Both seemed to avoid personal topics, as if they were maneuvering through a minefield. Thirty minutes into the visit, they were still chitchatting, and Don was pleased.

  The phone rang, interrupting the conversation for the second or third time. “Your phone has been ringing off the hook,” Don said. “Go ahead and answer it. We don’t mind.”

  Tamara cleared her throat. “I-it’s okay, whoever it is will call back.”

  “They have been calling back, over and over,” Madeline said.

  “It’s okay, really. I’m not bothered by the phone. I’m busy and that’s that,” she snapped.

  Okay, Don thought. He’d leave the subject alone. Stirring up unnecessary unrest was to be avoided. The visit was going relatively smoothly, better than he expected—almost too well.

  “How long are you planning to stay?” Tamara asked.

  “Why? Are you ready for us to leave already?” Mother asked. Tamara didn’t offer a response. “I guess that’s our answer, Don.”

  “I didn’t say anything,” Tamara snapped again. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

  Mother’s neck stiffened and her eyes widened.

  Don could feel a storm brewing. He had to jump in to facilitate calm. “We did come unannounced. So, if you have other plans and need us to go, we understand.”

  “If we go, I’m hoping that you’re coming with us,” Mother said.

  “Where?” Tamara asked.

  “Home, of course, Detroit. Three tickets and we’ll be home together, finally. I really am excited about us being together.”

  “I’m not coming back to Detroit,” Tamara said, leaping to her feet. The phone rang again and she ignored it again.

  Mother stood too. “Don told me you were ready to come home. That’s why I’m here.”

  Don stepped between the ladies.

  “Did Don tell you the terms that I want?” Tamara blurted. Madeline crossed her arms and reeled back on her four-inch-high stilettos. Don had hoped the conversation wasn’t going to deteriorate so drastically. The first half hour had given him a false sense of security. “Don, didn’t you tell her what we discussed?” Tamara yelled, becoming increasingly irritated.

  “Yes.”

  “Then tell her nothing has changed.”

  Before Don could respond Madeline was talking. “You don’t have to pass a message through Don to me, at least not today. I’m standing right here. You can say whatever you need to say to me directly.”

  “Fine, I’m not coming back to Detroit or to DMI unless you leave,” she said, standing firm.

  “Why do you hate me so much?”

  Tamara looked away briefly and then back at their mother. “Why do you always have to push and push? Why can’t you just leave some things alone?”

  “Maybe I could if I knew what you were talking about.”

  Don was totally dejected. The two rams were locked in a duel that neither could win or was willing to lose. It was brutal watching the two go at it. He wanted to stop the disagreement but knew there was little chance of his succeeding. They were both too pigheaded to back down. He could only watch from the corner.

  “Let’s not do this,” Tamara said. “I’m not rehashing twenty years of family problems. I’ve spent the last fourteen years getting away from you and the nonsense, and I don’t appreciate you popping into my place acting like we’re one big happy family when you know good and well we are far from it.”

  “Maybe, but what have I done to you? What have I personally done to hurt you and cause you to be so bitter?” Madeline asked, pointing her finger into her own chest. Tamara’s ringing phone was barely noticeable anymore. “I might not be perfect, but I won’t apologize for loving my children and trying to protect each of you.”

  “Funny, look around, Mother; do I look protected?”

  “This is your choice. I have an eight-bedroom mansion back in Detroit, but you prefer to live on the run in a place like this,” Mother said, stretching her hands out and framing the small room.

  “Now, that should tell you something. I’d rather live in this pit than stay in your big house. So, back to your original question, no, I’m not coming back to Detroit unless you’re gone.”

  “Let’s all calm down and take a breath,” Don said. He’d heard plenty. Their conversation wasn’t headed anywhere good. He had to intervene and restore what could be saved. “We can work this out. Maybe you can go on a long vacation while Tamara returns and gets acclimated. After a month or so of cruising down the Mediterranean, you can come home and we’ll take it a day at a time.”

  “No way, Don, I’ve laid out my terms. All or nothing for me,” Tamara said.

  “Don, stop,” Mother replied. “Don’t beg Tamara to change her mind. It’s not necessary. I’ve already decided to leave. So, you see,” Madeline said, letting the palm of her hand brush over her hair and her gaze slip to the floor, “there’s no more discussion needed. If you want to come home, then come. I won’t be a problem. I’m out of there. Give me two days to get home, packed, and on my way.”

  Don was disappointed but had no energy left to intervene further. Some fires were so large they had to burn out on their own. The one raging between Mother and Tamara was one of those.

  “Can you go now?”

  “I’ll go, but can you at least tell me why you’re so angry with me, to the point of staying away for fourteen long, painful years? You’ve punished me and Don. All I’m asking is for an explanation. Why? Help me understand so that I can walk away with some peace.”

  “Mother, I don’t know what peace looks like, feels like, or smells like,” Tamara said, spitting the words like nails at their mother. “How can I give you something I’ve never had?” Then for a moment she seemed to be cracking. “You know what? The whole thing was a bad idea. Just forget about the whole thing. You stay in Detroit, Mother, and I’m going to stay here. I’ve survived this long, and I can go another fourteen years without your help. Now, can you just go, leave, please go?”

  At first Madeline seemed like she wasn’t budging, but Tamara was too riled up. She snatched her jacket and yanked the door open. Don didn’t immediately decide whether to stay and comfort Tamara or run and console Madeline. His grand idea of uniting the two hadn’t completely failed. At least his mother got a chance to see her daughter in person. That constituted a miracle and had to provide some sense of relief.

  chapter

  3

  Tamara was relieved watching Madeline walk out. She had said what needed to be said.

  “Come on, Tamara, why does it have to be all or nothing?” Don asked her. “Do you honestly need the whole sta
te of Michigan cleared out to feel safe? Can’t you let her stay in town while you’re there too? We are talking about Detroit, a pretty big city, big enough to hold both of you comfortably.”

  “Don, I don’t want to create confusion, but you’re putting too much pressure on me. I didn’t create our family problems. I’m just finding a way to survive with the situation that I was dealt. Is that so wrong?” she said, plopping onto the sofa. Don was her only ally. She felt awful putting him in the middle, but she couldn’t let her allegiance to him compromise her judgment. Letting her guard down one time could be a fatal mistake with Madeline and Remo hanging around.

  “I can’t speak for you, but I’m tired,” he said, appearing frustrated. “When will the fighting end? First it was Mother and Sherry over Dad. Then it was me and Joel over DMI. Now it’s you and Mother, over what? I don’t get it.”

  “I don’t expect you to get it,” Tamara belted out, unable to contain her agitation. She’d stayed out of everyone’s way, removed herself from the drama. That wasn’t good enough. They had to track her down in the English countryside and drop a guilt trip in her lap. She wasn’t going to accept it. As imperfect as her life was, Tamara wanted to live it out on her terms.

  Don came to the window and stood next to Tamara. They saw their mother pacing along the walkway in front of the building.

  “So what’s the deal? Are you putting an end to this distance and coming home with us?”

  “Nope, can’t do it,” she said with her back against the wall, one knee bent and her foot on the wall behind her, her gaze locked on the walkway below. “I’m staying right here. Let Mother do whatever she wants to do, go wherever she wants to go, so long as she lets me do the same.”

  Don didn’t answer. He schlepped to the door and turned toward Tamara. “I guess we’ll see you next time.”

  She watched Don reach the steps out front and begin talking with Madeline. Tamara sobbed, wanting to reach out but unable to fully reconcile. Aches and unresolved emotions overcame her. The irksome sound of the ringing phone didn’t draw her from the window.

  Madeline watched Don come outside, appearing glum.

  “Tamara won’t change her mind. She’s not coming back with us. Nothing I said made a difference,” he said.

  “Why is she so mad at me? If somebody could answer my question, then maybe I could understand.” Madeline could feel the mixture of hurt and anger stirring. She was not going to shed a tear. There was no need to apologize for being a mother. The label of “imperfect” she could accept. Being Tamara’s enemy she could not. Madeline had spent years fighting her husband’s illegitimate son and was worn out. She refused to fight her own child. “I’m ready to head back to the U.S. Let’s go,” she told Don.

  “Are you sure?”

  Madeline remembered each of Tamara’s words. “Positive. Let’s go.”

  “Let me run upstairs and tell Tamara that we’re going.” Madeline fluttered her hand in the air a few times, indicating that he should hurry. The sooner she could get out of London the better. She was grateful to have seen and touched her daughter. The other chaos wouldn’t overshadow her dream come true. She leaned against the building, just to the left of the door, feeling empty. Her heart was in unit number twelve.

  Tamara had finally moved away from the window. It was too hard. Watching Don and Madeline on the street below and being unable to reach out to them created an ache she couldn’t soothe. Each time she considered going to them, images of the rape, her parents constantly bickering, and her marred childhood threw up a concrete roadblock on her path to restoration. She tried maneuvering to the left and right with no luck before finally giving up. The roadblock was too wide, too tall, the childhood trauma too deeply rooted for her to get past. A knock at the door caused Tamara to shriek. Fearing who it might be, she didn’t respond.

  “Tamara, open up. It’s me, Don. I know you’re in there.” Relieved that it was Don, she made her way to the door and opened it, a bit frazzled. She leaned the side of her face against the door. “I came to tell you that we’re heading to the airport. Mother is ready to go home.” Tamara continued letting the door support her weakened body. “I’m asking you again, will you consider coming with us? We’ll find a way to make it work. I believe in prayer, and God can work this out.”

  “I’ve already had to deal with our mother. Please don’t beat me over the head with God too. Both in the same day is too much for anyone, especially for me,” she said, letting her hands slide down and grab the doorknob, one hand on each side.

  “Can’t blame me for trying.”

  “I don’t,” she said. Tamara wanted to tell him how glad she was to see him but expressing too much joy would have given the mistaken impression that the impromptu visit was welcome. Her world was small and controlled with no room for expansion.

  Madeline popped up in the doorway, prompting Tamara to release the door and take a step back. Mother didn’t come inside. Tamara didn’t go out. Don stood near the door, in the middle.

  “I came back to tell you that DMI belongs to the two of you. That’s the way I want it and that’s the way it is.”

  Tamara couldn’t stand Madeline telling her what to do, still trying to control everything. Tamara wasn’t a child depending on a distracted, bitter mother to protect her. Madeline hadn’t done a good job eighteen years ago when it counted. Tamara didn’t need her now and didn’t care to hear her barking out orders. Perhaps Don could live with it but not Tamara. “I told you that I’ve changed my mind. I’m not sure if I want to go to Detroit, at least not now.”

  “Whether you accept it or not is up to you. Before I leave this place, I want you to know that I love you unconditionally. I’ve never stopped loving you. My heart breaks every day knowing you’re out here in the world without a mother’s love.”

  “I’ve done just fine without a mother.”

  Madeline’s hurt showed. Tamara could have tempered her statement, she thought, but it was already out. The words were true—painful, but true.

  “Regardless, I will always be your mother and I will love you and all my children until the day I die.” Madeline shot her gaze toward Don. “I’ve said my piece. Let’s go.”

  Don approached Tamara. She tensed. Affection remained a challenge. At times she’d experienced several breakthroughs with Remo but nothing consistent. She shut her eyelids tight and steeled herself for her brother’s embrace, prepared for old wounds to be reopened. The sooner they left, the sooner she could return to her normal state of being.

  chapter

  4

  They were gone and Tamara could breathe easy again. She’d reclaimed her space. The walls were no longer closing in. She heated a teakettle, replaying the words exchanged during the visit. Mixed emotions filled her. Madeline was her mother, an undeniable, piercing reality. She was born to love her, but that didn’t mean she had to like her, not with her constant pushing and attempts to force Tamara to accept the Mitchell family on Madeline’s terms. Mother made it hard to like her, but it didn’t stop Tamara from loving her. Seeing Don was comforting—honestly, seeing her mother was too.

  She poured the water into a cup, constantly replaying the words like a recording set on repeat. The anger had vanished and a pinch of loneliness was setting in. Having her family there wasn’t so bad, she thought, taking a seat on the small sofa. The phone rang but she didn’t answer, unwilling to release the warm feeling she was experiencing toward her family. It was rare, unexpected, but welcome. The euphoria forced her to rethink her decision about going home. The more she reflected, the less eager she was to push her mother away. She had to forget the whole idea. When Don first asked her to consider returning home, there was interest. Seeing how distraught her mother was changed her mind. She wasn’t out to crush Madeline, not really, although there were times when the pain carved deep in the pit of her soul cried out to be shared with the perpetrator. Andre clearly was her rapist, but he hadn’t been alone in crafting the destruction within her
mother’s mansion. There were many contributors who helped create the perfect environment for hell to dwell on earth.

  The phone rang so much that it wasn’t readily noticeable to her anymore. Whether it was Don, Madeline, or Remo didn’t make a difference. Her brief slice of euphoria was certain not to last, but she’d cling to it for as long as possible by blocking out the sounds and smells around her. Tamara was simply trying to survive.

  The phone wouldn’t stop. Caving to reality, she snatched it up, consumed with frustration. “Remo, what do you want?”

  He spoke in English mixed with Italian. His dialogue was as random and confusing as his actions. He spewed demand after demand at her. The frustration she felt at the beginning of the call quickly converted to tension.

  “You can’t walk away from me. We are for life. I won’t let you go so easily with my heart.” His ranting was fueled by escalating rage. She could feel the heat.

  “I’m not going to let you control me anymore. I can’t do it. We’re done, Remo. You have to accept this. It’s over for good,” she said, mustering her courage but not sure how he’d accept her betrayal.

  “We can’t solve this on the telephone. I need to see your face when you tell me these things. The telephone won’t work. I can jump on the rail and be in London by afternoon. I’ll see you. Ciao,” he said, and disconnected.

  Tamara held the phone, unable to move, scared. She hadn’t told him her new address. How did he know? she wondered. Probably the same way that Madeline had, by hiring a private investigator to keep track of her, selfishly violating her space. Her thoughts swirled out of order with no continuity. She jumped to her feet, realizing that getting out of the flat was critical. Remo was unpredictable and she couldn’t take a chance on letting him catch her. She scurried around the tiny space desperate for a plan. Peering at her cell phone again, she realized she didn’t have much choice. Maybe it was time to go home. Her brother had made the offer and she couldn’t discount it this time, so long as her nonnegotiable term was honored. Her mother couldn’t be anywhere near Detroit or the state of Michigan, just to be safe. Mother wasn’t a physical threat like Remo, but her ability to orchestrate emotional despair was just as deadly to Tamara.