Who Am I?

            by Jing Yen

 

The oil from the sizzling brown sausage links splattered on the woman’s hands. She yelled and sucked her burnt finger. The woman was rarely at home and the only way she could make it up to her 13 year-old daughter, Tomorrow, was by making breakfast. She squirted out a smiley face with ketchup onto the scrambled eggs she had just cooked.   

“Honey, come downstairs for breakfast,” the woman yelled from downstairs.

            A slim teenager dragged her feet down the stairs, her eyes half closed. She sat down in front of the steaming sausage and soggy eggs.

            “Would you mind staying out of the house this Saturday for a few hours? I’m going to have some guys redo the attic and get rid of garbage.”

            “Why? No one uses the attic anyway.”

            “Morry, I want that place to be clean. It could be a guest room. Please don’t ask questions.”

            Tomorrow stuffed the mushy red and yellow eggs in her mouth. She stared at her bagged lunch and rolled her eyes; it still read “Tomorrow” with a big heart drawn around her name. Tomorrow never understood why her mom made those stupid hearts with washable markers. She was already ashamed of her name since kids would tease her. She rubbed the crown of the heart with her finger and deformed the heart; everything her mom had done for her was superficial.

            “Mom, could you take me shopping next Saturday? I want to get some new jeans.”

            “Honey, you know I have to work Saturdays this month. How about you go with Gerdie’s mom or Aunt Michelle?”

            “Oh…um…yeah, I guess.” She put her fork down.

            Tomorrow snatched her lunch and ran out the door before her mom could see her disappointed face, “Bye mom!” They never hugged or kissed.  

            Gerdie, a plump, short red-headed girl waved to Tomorrow.    

“Hey! I’m having a sleepover this Saturday. You wanna come?” asked Gerdie. She looked at Tomorrow with her enormous round eyes and smiling face.

            “Sure, I can’t be at home anyways. My mom said that some guys are gonna remodel the attic and get rid of junk.”

            “Cool, we’re gonna have so much fun!” laughed Gerdie. Tomorrow looked at Gerdie, her eyebrows pushed together, she was still thinking about the attic.

At school, Tomorrow usually paid close attention and asked plenty of questions because she would receive answers, unlike at home. But today was different.

            The weekend came by rather slowly, but Tomorrow was prepared for her plan. She did not know exactly how everything would work out. She got a rush at the thought of her risky adventure.  

            “Morry! I’m going to work. The guys will be here in an hour, OK? Have fun at Gerdie’s!” said her mom.

            “OK mom! No problem!” Tomorrow’s voice sounded rather high-pitched and unnatural. Tomorrow grabbed her phone and dialed Gerdie’s number. No one answered.

            “Gerdie, this is Morry. I am soooo sick (cough!) You have no idea. I don’t think I’ll be able to go to your sleepover. (cough!) Sorry!”

           Tomorrow felt bad for not letting Gerdie in on her plan, but she promised to herself that she would tell her afterwards. She slipped into a t-shirt and sweats and searched her drawers for some construction paper and markers, throwing pens, scissors, and even a troll doll on the floor. She found a yellow piece of construction paper and a blue marker. Tomorrow wrote slowly in her best handwriting: WE DO NOT NEED THE ATTIC CLEANED ANYMORE! THANK YOU. The brilliant masterpiece made her laugh so hard that her stomach hurt. It was time to stick it onto their door for the construction workers to see.   

            Tomorrow rubbed her hands together, blowing air into them; it made her feel more relaxed and her heart was not racing as fast anymore. She bit her lip, wondering how she would get in the attic. Her mom had never shown her how. Above Tomorrow’s head was a string which she could pull on. She balanced herself on a chair and jumped to tug on the string. Down came a block of heavy stairs. Tomorrow fell off of the chair with her eyes wide open, coughing from the dust on her face.

            She got back on the chair again, her eyes set on the entrance to the attic. The stairs were hanging midway. Tomorrow hopped on the stair with both of her hands fastened on the railings. The stairs were shaking, but Tomorrow’s feet were glued to the steps. She walked slowly, step by step.

            Eeeek…BANG! The stairs snapped shut; she had just barely made it inside. Tomorrow trembled at the sight of the dark and dusty area. There was a strand of light from the window aiming directly at a large toy chest sitting in the center. She blew the dust off and yanked the heavy chest open; her fingers were red with pain. Inside were stacks and stacks of yellowish paper. Tomorrow had goose bumps and she felt like a criminal for invading her mom’s privacy. She took a sheet of paper out that looked like a letter. Dear Carrie, I have been feeling much better! Thank you for being such a great friend!  Love, Liz                 

            Tomorrow had never heard of her mom’s friend Liz. She was curious, digging in the chest to take out another letter. Liz complained about her problems with her boyfriend. She ended her letter with: Please don’t say that he is abusing me, I know that he still loves me. Tomorrow frowned and rummaged through the chest for more information. A ripped and crumpled newspaper clipping was hidden at the corner of the chest. Tomorrow pulled it out and she could hear her own heart thumping. There were ink blotches on the paper as if someone had cried all over it. ELIZABETH MORRISON, KILLED BY BOYFRIEND. Tomorrow gasped, her mouth was dry.

The sound of a car door slamming downstairs made the article slip from Tomorrow’s weak hands. She could hear a loud group of men chattering outside. Tomorrow scrubbed the filthy window and she saw four men laughing and walking towards her house. One guy pulled the sign from her door and waved to the other men, signaling them that they could all leave. The car drove off and Tomorrow took a deep breath.  

She couldn’t imagine what it would be like if Gerdie died. The phone rang. Tomorrow knew that it was Gerdie calling, probably asking if she were feeling better. She decided not to answer it and instead, looked around the whole room again. A box labeled PHOTOS caught her eye. Tomorrow was kneeling. She did not make an effort to get up; rather, her knees scrubbed the floor as she made her way across the room. She saw a glossy picture with heart borders all over it sitting at the bottom of the box and she couldn’t help but beam at the sight of two smiling young women. Tomorrow flipped the picture to the back; it read CARRIE AND LIZ! 1991. Liz had brown hair and green eyes; she had a huge tummy but very thin arms and legs in the picture. Her mom had an even bigger stomach.

Tomorrow noticed a thick book in the box as well. She took it out and blew the dust off from its cover. It was her mom’s diary; a shiny lock had secured her mom’s secrets long enough. She wanted to get a sense of what her mom was like since she was always too embarrassed to ask and showed a lack of interest in her mom’s stories. Tomorrow searched for a sharp item, but all she found was a paperclip that was used to hold a bunch of pictures together. She un-twirled the paperclip and stuck it in the lock. It clicked open. As Tomorrow flipped more pages, the sky turned darker.

The jingling of keys and the sound of a turning metal scratching the inside of the key hole woke Tomorrow up from her mom’s diary world. She had learned that her mom was deeply worried about Liz and was thinking of reporting the abuse to the police. Tomorrow could hear the door swinging open but she did not want this adventure to end. She sat still and tried not to make a sound. The phone rang once more.

“Hello,” Tomorrow’s mom had picked up the phone.

“What? Morry’s not at your house? She said she was sick?”

Tomorrow heard her mom’s hoarse cry. She knew that the right thing to do was to yell out where she was but she wanted to find out more about her mom.

“I am going to call as many neighbors as possible,” bawled Tomorrow’s mom.

 She could hear her mom describing her appearance. “She has green eyes and brown hair…” Then she heard a door slam; her mom had left the house to look for her. Tomorrow concentrated on the book she held in her hands, hoping to find out what had happened to Liz. Liz is pregnant and she is scared to have her baby in an abusive environment. Tomorrow’s eyes expanded and she was curious to know where this baby went.   

            “Morry!”

            She could hear her mom calling for her outside, but she could not let her mom stop her, not just yet. As Tomorrow was turning the page, a letter fell out from the diary and it landed on her lap. The letter was from Liz: …I am so scared because Gus is threatening that he will kill my baby if it isn’t his, and everyone knows perfectly well that it is. He has gone crazy! What should I do? The letter was becoming moist from Tomorrow’s sweaty hands. She had never felt so terrified before since she knew that everything she read was real. At the end of the letter, Liz wrote in red glitter ink: Tomorrow will be a better day. The words sparkled on her face as she shook the letter back and forth. Tomorrow abhorred her name because the kids would always make fun of her, singing the song from Annie, “Tomorrow I love you, tomorrow, it’s only a day away!” And when the teacher said that the assignment was due tomorrow, kids would glare at her, some laughing. But after reading Liz’s sentence, she smiled at the eight letters and the feeling of hope warmed her heart.

            “Morry! Are you out here?” She could hear her mom’s trembling voice, loud but shaky. Tomorrow felt guilty for letting her mom worry about her. She put down her diary and was ready to give up. Tomorrow couldn’t stand her mom calling any longer. She opened her mouth, ready to yell out “I’m up here in the attic!” But every time she tried to say something, her mouth became dehydrated. Tomorrow closed her mouth and bit her lip hard, she had an expressionless face and her eyes were fastened on the toy chest. Pictures of her mom and Liz smiling at her with their arms around each other and then Liz being attacked were flashing in her mind. She wanted to scream, to let it all out but she held it back, her fingernails digging into her palms. Tomorrow saw a stack of magazines behind the chest. She needed to calm herself down by flipping through some pages of colorful pictures. There was a plethora of parenting magazines. One had tabs throughout. She turned to one of the bookmarked pages, WHAT TO DO WHEN IT’S A BOY. Then a picture of an ultra sound with Carrie Camp on it, labeled male and estimated date April 2, 1991 slipped onto the wooden floor. Tomorrow’s mind was frozen; she tried to tell herself that this was just a nightmare. Her birthday was in July and the doctor must have made a mistake, after all it was just an estimation, right?

            Tomorrow grabbed the diary from the ground and flipped to April 1991. Blank pages. She turned to May of 1991 and reread the words over and over again, trying to let it all sink in. I am in pain, pain that could not be described in words. My baby has left without me. Tears trickled from Tomorrow’s eyes; she could taste their saltiness. Her hands started shaking and she didn’t know if she could take in all this information. She closed her eyes and reopened them, nothing changed one bit. Tomorrow didn’t understand why this had to happen to her and not anyone else. She was scared to read on, fearful to confirm what the clues were leading to. Tomorrow could pretend that she had not seen anything at all and her mom would get her and everything would just be the way it was. Everything would be fine. She remembered when she was ten and she asked her mom, “How come I can’t have a brother like Gerdie’s?” Tomorrow’s mom had given her a look of sadness and doubt; she looked like she was squinting at Tomorrow, trying to find an answer.

                 Tomorrow turned the diary over and flipped the pages in high-speed, hoping to miss the information that verified what she had in mind. But she was forced to stop on the last page July 4^th 1991, her birthday and it said, Tomorrow is born and she looks just like Liz.  She took a deep breath, inhaling the dust in the attic. She covered her ears, she didn’t want to hear any sounds, but she could still hear her heart beating rapidly. Tomorrow needed time to accept the truth. Betrayed, she placed the diary back in the photo box, trying to push it in the very bottom of the box, but there was a big scrap book album sticking at the base.

Tomorrow tugged it out, it was very soft with cotton lining around it, and her name, Tomorrow, was sewn on the cover with different color patches for each letter of her name. She opened the scrap book and there was a baby photo taped inside, her birth date on it. She saw her tiny foot prints and documents of her height and weight and even a birthday card that said “You’re one!” Tomorrow couldn’t help but smile. The scrap book was beautiful and it was the first time that she truly felt close to her mom and the effort her mom had spent on her. Tomorrow looked through each page, putting her fingers on a glossy page that said My Daughter and studying the beautiful artwork her mom had drawn around the collection of her items. The book ended with a picture of her and her mom; her mom had her lips on Tomorrow’s cheeks while Tomorrow was laughing. There were words beneath the picture:  I love you no matter what. The words were handwritten just like her name on the lunch bags; they were not printed by some company. Tomorrow regretted smearing the hearts on her lunch bags everyday. Deep down inside, she felt that she appreciated her mom’s hearts but she didn’t know if she had the courage to admit it herself. Tomorrow sensed more ease and she knew that she loved her mother no matter what.  

            Tomorrow heard her mom’s call inside the house. She shouted in her loudest voice possible, “Mom! I’m up here in the attic!” Tomorrow heard running steps toward her direction; she made sure she was not standing near the entrance. BAM! Bright light stung Tomorrow’s eyes but she could still see her mom’s sweaty and apprehensive face.

            “Morry!” Tomorrow knew that she would need more time to talk it out with her mom and heal, but for now, she forgave her. She hugged and kissed her mom on the cheeks for the first time in a long while.