Tears streamed down my face, my sobs stifled by the pillow. I thumped the now wet pillow with my fists. Mama, how could Papa have forgotten about you so soon? I don’t want a new Mama. Why did you die and leave me?
Chapter 8
After some time, my sobbing subsided. The pillow was drenched, and my eyes swollen. I lay there for a while longer, not knowing what to do. Should I go down and tell Papa he can’t get married to Aunty Jos, and more importantly, that I won’t be able to call Aunty Jos Mama?
I knew I’d like to do that, but also that I wouldn’t. Papa didn’t take kindly to having his decisions questioned, and it had sounded like a fait-accompli. I was sure that this was not a debatable topic, and nothing I said or did would change Papa’s mind.
I don’t care Papa, I am NOT calling that woman Mama. My Mama is in heaven, she’s only been dead six months.
I sat up on the bed and hugged my dolly, surprised no-one had come looking for me yet.
They don’t even care that I’m up here. Papa’s down there, smiling and grinning, happy he’s getting married again. He can’t love Aunty Jos, he loves Mama. We still pray for Mama every day. What would she think about all this?
Mama, please help me to understand. I don’t want Papa to marry Aunty Jos. Why can’t we just go on like we are? That’s working. It’s not like when you were alive, but we are a family again. Why do things have to keep changing all the time?
“Marijke.” Papa spoke quietly. I hadn’t heard him come upstairs. “Are you coming downstairs to join us for dinner?”
He must have noticed my swollen eyes, but didn’t say anything.
“I’m not feeling well, can I stay up here and go to bed?” I didn’t look him in the eyes, I couldn’t look him in the eyes. Right then I hated him.
“Okay, can I get you anything?” His voice did sound concerned. Go away, that’s what you can do. Don’t marry that woman, that’s what you can do.
“No, thank you,” I said, rather rudely and abruptly. If he noticed, he didn’t comment.
He left the room, and I threw my head down on the pillow again, but this time my tears wouldn’t come. I felt an anger, no, a rage, well up and take over my whole body. I began to shake, and I clutched dolly so hard, I almost broke her.
I hate you Papa, and I hate Aunty Jos. How can you forget about Mama so quickly?
I finally got up, undressed, washed and cleaned my teeth. I had to go downstairs to go to the toilet, so I tip-toed down, hoping no-one would hear me.
“Are you okay?” Ann asked as I came down the stairs. She walked over to me and hugged me. “Are you all right?” she asked again.
I nodded, knowing if I spoke, I’d cry again. Ann didn’t look like she had cried. Why aren’t you upset? Do you want Papa to marry Aunty Jos? I thought.
“I need to go to the toilet, and I’m feeling sick, so I’m going to bed,” I said, opening the toilet door to escape.
After washing my hands, I crawled into bed, and hugged my dolly to my chest as if my life depended on her. My mind was spinning; confused, angry, hurt. Every emotion washed over me. I wanted to scream, yell, and throw things. Anything to get rid of this anger and the fear of more changes in my life.
I must have drifted off from emotional exhaustion. I woke up when Margaret climbed into bed next to me. I rolled over to hug her. I was in desperate need to feel another human being.
“Isn’t it exciting, Marijke? Papa and Aunty Jos are getting married. Papa said we can all go to the wedding, and we will all have new dresses and new shoes, and everything.” Her young voice was full of awe and excitement.
I pretended to be asleep, and didn’t answer her. Am I the mean one? Am I being selfish? Why doesn’t anyone care Papa has forgotten about Mama?
I rolled over again to the other side, so as not to let Margaret see the tears well up again.
I woke up early the next morning, feeling sad. I’d dreamt about Mama, and the time she had gotten really angry when I was about four or five years old. Not angry with me, but with a man walking down the street. I had been so proud of my Mama that day. When it came to her children, she had always been protective and loving. Nobody dared say anything against us, and her motherly instinct, as well as her temper, could flare quite quickly.
It had been a cold winter’s day, snow on the ground. Mama was wrapped up in her grey and well worn woollen coat, the only one I ever remember her in. She also had a scarf tied around her head, to keep out the wind. I always thought Mama looked so pretty with the colourful scarf around her head.
The older children had gone to school, and we were on our way to get some groceries. Trudy was a baby in the pram, and Arnold sat on a little seat on the front of the pram. I walked with Mama, tightly holding her hand, whilst she pushed the pram with the other hand.
Suddenly, a man came running down the street towards us, obviously in a hurry. The footpath was quite narrow, and with the pram, there was not a lot of room for him to get past. As he approached he tried to sidestep us, and slipped in the snow, almost landing on top of me.
“Get out of my way, you little piece of human being!” he yelled at me, as he tried to balance himself.
This statement made Mama really angry. I didn’t recall ever having seen her angry like that before. “Don’t you DARE call my daughter a piece of human being! She is a complete human being. She may be small, she’s only a child. But she is a complete human being!” Mama’s voice could be heard all the way down the street.
The man had gathered himself by then, and just stared at the angry looking woman with her little brood. He looked terrified, as if he thought Mama might attack him. He took one look at her angry face and blazing eyes, and decided to retreat.
Oh, how proud I was of my Mama; that she’d stood up to the man, but more, because it had made me feel important. I was a whole human being, not a piece of one.
I lay in bed, remembering that event, and the dream which had brought it back to me; feeling Mama’s presence.
I climbed over Trudy’s still sleeping body, and crept downstairs, trying not to wake anyone else. As I arrived downstairs, Papa met me in the hallway.
“Good morning, Marijke,” he said, as he gave me his usual morning kiss and hug.
“Good morning, Papa.” I pecked him on the cheek, and got into the toilet to escape. I didn’t feel like talking to him. I was afraid I might get into an argument about last night.
But as per usual, the decisions had been made, and there were no further discussions. When Aunty Jos arrived, Papa wished her a good morning, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. This was the first time I’d seen any show of affection between the two of them. I turned around and stormed off into the dining room. By now the other children were up, and arrived downstairs for breakfast.
When saying Grace, Papa asked God to give peace to Mama, and then said, “Dear Lord, bless our new Mama, and thank you for making her part of our family, Amen.”
“Amen.” Everybody else responded, before crossing themselves. My mouth closed tightly. I did not say Amen, because I did not want Jesus to bless a new Mama. I crossed myself and left the table, getting ready for school.
As the days and weeks progressed, everyone started calling Aunty Jos ‘Mama’, and she smiled sweetly at the name, obviously pleased