The Card Game

“Goodbye, Clover,” he whispered in a hushed tone.

“Bye Daddy, I’ll see you tomorrow!” I replied, not knowing that this would be the last time that I saw him alive.

My mom rushed me back inside and sat me down to talk. Before she could even get any words out, tears flooded her eyes and streamed down her face like an endless river. Confusion clouded my vision, as I was unaware that one of the biggest parts of my life was leaving. My mom tried hard to get an explanation out, but sudden cries and sniffles replaced what should’ve been words.

My mom and dad were high school sweethearts; the dream couple. My parents were each the leaders of their cliques, which ruled the school, and it only made sense that they started dating. My dad was the tough jock, my mom was the popular girl with a rich dad, they were the overdone clichés that every chick-flick orbited around. She caught his eye, so he decided to stop sleeping around and try to pursue her. They clicked almost instantly, and everyone around could see the chemistry that grew between them every day. Once they had won prom queen and king, their relationship was set in stone. Everything seemed to be smooth sailing. My dad promised my mom a whole life of adventure together - though I guess my mom wasn’t expecting that adventure to include him cheating on her with a girl half her age who was barely legal. I never understood why my dad chose to abandon us - we were everything he had ever wanted, right? My mom was stunning and successful as a defense attorney, everything was wonderful, we were that family that most people strive for, with our stereotypical white picket fence and good income household. Maybe, what my dad was missing was passion. Over the years, their teen romance full of intense, longing kisses slowly fizzled out. The electricity and fireworks were gone. The connection that they had once shared had fallen apart, and they were back to just being two strangers. The butterflies that once flew when they barely glanced at each other had turned into wilted flowers in a forgotten garden.

I watched my dad drive down the road leaving his old family behind, and going to join his new, younger, better, 18-year-old girlfriend. That girl had something that we no longer possessed, my father’s interest and heart. The weeks leading up to before he left seemed like any others, but I missed the signs because I was so young. I didn’t see the arguing that happened after my head hit the pillow, I didn’t hear the cries that both of them let out in anguish of a failing marriage. My father no longer smiled at me with a gleam in his eyes, and he seemed to look straight through me. I couldn’t even imagine what was going through my mother’s head. Her eyes didn’t follow the car, they simply dazed off and glossed over with tears. The life and energy that my mother once had slowly drained the further the car drove. When the car was still parked in the driveway, she was frantic to get him to stop. To talk with him and convince him not to go. He started pulling out of the driveway and she followed the car. It was when he sped off down the street that she could no longer keep up. She fell to her knees in grief as he turned the corner going out of sight, and out of our lives forever. He left my mother with the largest responsibility and burden. How was my mother expected to explain this to me? How does one even begin to tell a 6-year-old that their father doesn’t love them? It’s no easy task, a feat that few have ever accomplished.

I walked over to where my mom was kneeling on the hard concrete sidewalk, and she looked up at me, eyes puffy and nose running.

“Sweetheart... I just... I want you to know this isn’t your fault. Your daddy is just... unhappy here. He wants to be happy, so we should let him” --as the word happy escaped her lips, her voice quivered and broke-- “we’re still going to be happy here, okay? You’re my little lucky charm, and always will be. We can get through this together,” she whispered in my ear. My mom pulled me in for a tight hug and silently sobbed into my tiny shoulders. “Hey, honey, why don’t we go cheer ourselves up with some ice cream, huh?” She wiped her tears and forced a smile at me, trying her best to keep all of her emotions bottled up. I agreed to go.

The car ride over to the local ice cream shop was a silent one. The occasional sniffle broke the silence before returning to listening to the low rumbling of the cars around us. Even the sweet joys of a frozen treat couldn’t soothe my newfound feeling of desperation for what I had just lost. Though it still hadn’t hit me directly, I could sense that there was change. I had never seen my mother this upset before, she had never let me see her cry. Her sadness rubbed off on me and I couldn’t help but feel somber with her, her misery loved my company for a short while. It was as if a death happened within the family, neighbors began to visit and offer their presence and home-cooked meals. Mom gladly accepted.

The day he left, mom changed forever. Her bubbly personality that could lift a room was now a dark presence, her gloomy mood could send a chill up someone’s spine. Her bright face that somehow always bore a smile was now replaced by a blank expression, forever looking for something that would never return. The fun activities she used to take me to do turned into secluding herself in her room. No more picnics in the field, trips to the amusement park, or our weekly girl’s shopping trip. Eventually, her changed mindset started affecting her work. She couldn’t pay attention to cases and would blank out in the middle of courtrooms. She was promptly fired by clients, and her paychecks slowly started to decrease. She did nothing to change this - I’m not even sure if she noticed it happening. She ended up being fired, which maybe she was happy about. It gave her more time to sit and stare out the window and contemplate what could’ve been if only she was better somehow.

As the years passed by, my mom fell deeper and deeper into this spiraling abyss, and there was no pulling her out. She had tried dating again, but no one was able to click with her the way my dad had.

As for me, going through high school wasn’t a problem. I had plenty of friends and was generally and genuinely happy, I kept up good grades and was an overall model student. I had become a master at putting on a facade, to persevere through any situation without having anyone to back me up. The only person who could back me up, never would.

“Hey, mom... I got 100% on my algebra 2 honors test,” I said melancholily. I would always go up to my mom and announce all my achievements, not expecting any response other than a slight nod, or maybe a long sigh. Most days all she would do is stare out the window, at the same spot that my dad had said his last goodbyes to us. She barely ate any meals and was slowly becoming bone thin. I was anxious for her, if she kept on going like this, she was going to starve. I tried everything, tried to help her get up and come to the table, tried to hand feed her, but she always refused. Her energy came out the most when I attempted to help her.

“Get off me! I’m fine right here! If you touch me again, I’ll make you move out!”

“Mom, you don’t really mean that. Please, come eat. You have to. You’re going to get sick if you don’t. I’m worried. Please...” my voice trembled while I attempted to coax her out of her cave.

“Young lady, what did I just say? Don’t talk back to me, now go!” She screamed with what little voice she had left, and those little spurts of arguing and yelling would drain every ounce of energy out of her, sometimes she would just pass out in her chair. Even the quietest words struck me with the same force that yelled words would. I remember wishing I could see what she was thinking because all she ever did was sit and think. Maybe she didn’t think at all, and her mind was just an abandoned shell of what was once a happy place. The woman who I had known my mother to be was gone, and all that was left was a depressed husk.

Because of my mother’s ‘loving’ behavior, I had learned from a young age how to take care of myself. She didn’t start isolating herself until a few weeks after dad left, but during that time she escalated quickly. She no longer walked with me to school or greeted me at the door. Her ecstatic moods that came out of nowhere happened more frequently, but instead of us having fun while dad would shake his head and try to separate us, she was yelling and throwing things.

As I progressed through middle school and high school, she would occasionally give me money to get clothes, and she would have me go with the neighbors to buy groceries.

My home life was so isolated and suffocating that I spent most of my time at various friends’ houses, or just stayed longer at the school doing what I could to help out. I would do anything to avoid going home to a mother who no longer cared. My mom promised me that she would help me, that we would get through this together. It was all a lie. I had to work through it by myself, while she just sat and watched both of our lives pass by. She made no effort to be a proper mother, so I found friends to replace another hole that had been left by another inadequate parent. Sabrina happened to be a good replacement.

“I know this is probably going to be a dumb question, but is your mom doing any better?” my best friend Sabrina inquired, trying not to upset me.

“No, of course not,” I glanced away to make sure my eyes wouldn’t tear up, “Oh well, what can ya do? Some situations like these just happen, I’ll get through it.” I saw her eyebrows furrow together in worry, and right as she opened her mouth to say something, I jumped in again. “Besides, we only have a few months left before we graduate!”

“Oh gosh, don’t remind me, my grades are looking so bad that I don’t even know if I’ll graduate with our class!” she giggled, obviously not too concerned, and my subject change was successful.

“Please, you will too. Don’t be so dramatic.” We sat and laughed, chatting about boys and the normal high school nonsense and gossip, until I decided to change the direction of the conversation once again to something more serious and forward-thinking.

“You’ve never told me, what do you even want to do after college?” I asked Sabrina, and as I did, a smile spread across her face.

“Fashion! It’s dreadful going out in public and seeing the catastrophe of outfits some people decide to wear! It ismypublic duty to help them. Besides, I have a ton of amazing ideas for my own fashion line!” She giddily pulled up sketches on her phone and showed me. Even though I only had a few glances over, they were very detailed and planned out. Her deep blue eyes danced across the screen, she quickly swiped to the next one before I even had a chance to review the one prior.

“That’s fantastic, Bri! You’re gonna do so great.”

“Aw, thanks! But enough about me, what about you? You’re always so mysterious and never tell me anything about what you want to do.” Bri’s eyes got bigger with anticipation for my answer.

“Hey, I do tell you. I’m just not too sure about what I want to do. Thinking about the future and what all is left out there just... scares me. Especially with how unknown the present can be, you feel me?” Bri nodded. “Actually, being a detective has always seemed ideal to me. Especially when my mom was involved in the whole court system, she would take me along some days. It seems like a really interesting job. Not sure if I would ever be fit for it though,” I said hesitantly.

“Oooh, well then I’ll call you up if I ever need you to help me cover up a murder!” We would laugh and laugh and forget our struggles, and just focus on the bright futures ahead of us.

When I had come home that evening after spending time at Bri’s house, I unlocked the front door to the abandoned-looking house, but this night it was unusual. The air was suffocating, yet at the same time, seemed to be draining out of the house, as if I had somehow entered outer space. There seemed to be a sort of light coming from somewhere. I wasn’t used to seeing my house in the light anymore, as mom always requested for it to be dark; and as a result, more depressing. I could see the dust collecting on the floor, on the paintings, and frames on the walls. Looking at how we had just let everything get like this made me uneasy.

If I couldn’t even take care of a house and my mom, how am I supposed to take care of myself and a future family? But did I even want a family of my own? The way my mom had been all those years I probably didn’t have enough knowledge on how to properly treat a kid.

I stopped my mind from wandering and focused on the situation at hand with the light. At first, I had become worried it was a burglar before I heard my mom cough.

“Mom? Hey, where are you?” I searched around in the different bedrooms before I finally found her cooking something in the kitchen, where the light was flooding from.“Mom? What are you doing?”

“Clover! How was school?” She was holding a pan, frying some vegetables. I stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded. She had spent almost 12 years of my life in that godforsaken chair and then one day she decided to just get up in the blink of an eye?

“Okay, what the hell is going on?”

“What are you talking about, sweetie?”

“Mom, please for the love of God do not call me ‘sweetie’ right now. I know I’m your daughter, but right now you need to level with me like an adult and tell me why the hell you just now decide to get up?”

“I wasn’t in a good place, but I’m all better now!”

“What, so did Jesus walk in and suddenly give you your happiness back? If not, then what the fuck mom?”

“First of all, language. No young lady has any means to use that word. Second, I realize I haven’t been a good enough mother or parental figure in your life, so I’m fixing myself.”

“Wow. I- I’m honestly at a loss for what to say right now. I’m so glad it took you 12 years of my life to figure out how to be a good mother.”

“Hey now, let’s not focus on that. Can I tell you a story? It’s about your name.”

“Mom. Stop this. Stop avoiding the situation. Now is not the time for a goddamn story.”

“C’mon sweetie, sit down.”

“No. I said no, don’t. Do not call me ‘sweetie’. Do not tell me about any story. Why didn’t you tell it when I was, oh I dunno, 8 years old and needed a mom? When I had to learn and teach myself to cook breakfast and dinner, not just for me, but for you as well? When I had to go ask the next-door neighbors to help me get groceries? Those neighbors raised me more than you or dad ever did!” The fury had been building in my system, and I had finally let loose of it.

“Hush, and listen. Breathe. When your dad and I were on a date one day, he had taken me to this gorgeous, lush field. Flowers were everywhere, it was like a fairytale.” Her voice was higher pitched than I had ever heard it - she sounded young again. She sounded happy again.

“Mom. Stop this.” My hands were trembling as I tried to grab onto something to keep myself steady.

“We sat and had a picnic, and took in the scenery around us. I was looking down at all the flowers when I noticed a neglected little clover patch. I had said to your dad, ‘David, look! A little clover patch.’ He leaned over and searched for a second, and he somehow found a four-leafed clover! He showed me and then pressed it into my hands as he grabbed something out of his back pocket.”

“Mom. This is the last time I ask before-”

“-It was a ring case, and right there is when he proposed to me. ‘Claire, I want you to take this clover-’”

“Stop it! Stop! Stop avoiding what I’m asking!” I screamed at her. She continued to ignore me and continued with her pointless retelling.

“-and always hold onto it. I want you to always know that our love is like this clover; it fills us with luck, faith, love, and most of all, hope. This is the hope that our love will always last... so with that, Claire, will you marry me?′ Obviously, I said yes. I’ve kept that same clover ever since that night, and I still have it now.” She pulled a wilted four-leaf clover out of the little silver locket necklace she wore, and I stared at it in awe.

That ‘awe’ being how she could go this long with ignoring me, then pretend like we’re as close as ever. I felt sick.

“How could you? You’ve made me go through raising myself for years. I can’t just forgive you like that. You don’t even know who I am. I’m honestly disgusted. You know what? Maybe you’re better off just being silent staring out that damn window. Maybe even better off dead.” I ran off, bolted through the front door, and took my car straight to Bri’s house, ignoring the daggers I had just sent through my mom’s heart.

My eyes were overcome with tears and it was hard to see the road. I had run through a red light by accident, but I didn’t care. I needed to get as far away from my mother’s house as humanly possible.

When I did reach Bri’s small little ranch-style home, I sighed in relief when I saw her truck in the driveway. I walked into her house, not even bothering with knocking, and went straight to her room where I found her on the phone talking to someone.

“Look, I’m sure she’ll be okay and turn up- Oh my god, Clove! You scared the shit out of me! Your mom just called and said you were upset and ran out, what’s going on?” I glared at Bri in disbelief as she had also gone to my mother’s side.

“Hang up.”

“W-what? Clover, your mom is worried about you and-”

“I said, HANG UP.” Bri flinched when I shouted, I had never shouted at her in our 3 years of friendship. She quickly threw her phone down and stood up to come over and comfort me, but I shoved her hand away.

“How could my mom do this to me? What did I ever do to her to deserve a life of neglect? I don’t get it, I don’t get it...” I kept repeating that to myself before I finally broke down and fell to my knees. My chest sunk so far down when I let out my pent-up cries, and Bri stood there baffled and unsure of what to do. My head was spinning and I couldn’t hear anything except my sobs and quickening pulse. Every emotion that I had held down throughout the years was rising in me, spreading through every vein like electricity.

As I was on the floor having a breakdown, Bri had grabbed her phone and dialed my mom again.

“Ms. Lybeck? Clover needs you right now, can you please come to get her? Thanks.” Bri looked down on me and I could feel her judgment through her fake worried stare.

“Tell her not to come. I’ll drive home by myself.” I stood up, brushed myself off, and wiped the tears away before making another escape out the door.

I could hear Bri’s calls and pleads to stop behind me, but I didn’t let that halt me. Nothing could stop the rage-filled emotional rampage I was on. I got in the car and started it up, leaving Bri in a cloud of dust. I didn’t know where I was going - just that it wasn’t going to be home. I needed more time before I could go back to that woman. The woman who was supposed to be my protector and caretaker. If anyone was the child, it was her. I took care of her more than she had ever for me.

The night continued to grow darker, and I continued to aimlessly drive my car around the city. I passed by a lake and decided that it might be a good spot to cool off for an hour or so before heading back home, and avoiding my mom by any means necessary.

I leaned my seat back and opened up the sunroof so I could see the sky, which was growing darker with every second. I had let my mind wander to all my questions about my mom, about why she had let this continue for so long. I had reached a point where I wasn’t as upset as I was numb to the whole situation. I still didn’t completely understand why she did what she did, but I was understanding it more. The night sky had finally reached its jet black potential, and the stars slowly began to creep out. After a while, I had let my mind rest, and just enjoyed the quiet of the sky. The quiet that my mind had needed for a long time, it had finally got. I could finally breathe again, and it felt fantastic. My vision began to grow dimmer and dimmer, as my eyes had slowly begun to shut and lead me into a dreamless sleep.

The next day I woke up at around 2 PM, but it wasn’t like I had anything to do anyway. It was a Sunday and I was still on my winter break. With a sigh I started up the car and made my journey back home, deliberately making it as slow as I could. I wasn’t excited to face my mom again, especially after I ran out on her and told her what an awful parent she was - that probably didn’t feel the best for her. I needed to make sure I apologized, then I could move on to sorting out what happens next. Of course, I was going to question her a lot as well. You can’t just be completely silent, blocking everything in the world out for 12 years, and then expect it all to heal and be better in the matter of a single day. It takes time, and that is something my mother didn’t understand, and she never would. The only nice thing was seeing that portion of my mom from the past, that bubbly human who always smiled and looked on the bright side. I was so young, yet I remembered the real side of her so well. My real mom had been back, and I ruined it.

When I pulled up into the driveway, the house looked almost as abandoned as it did last night when I got home. Mom had turned all the lights off, so I simply assumed she was asleep or just back to her old habit of staring out the window. The only problem was that when I looked into the window by the front door, I couldn’t see her in the chair.

“Ah, so she is asleep. Great. That’ll give me more time to think about what the hell I’m supposed to do and say to her,” I mumbled angrily to myself.

As soon as I stepped into the house, something felt... odd. Something had been off, but I couldn’t place my finger on what it was, so I ignored it. That was until I stepped into my room and took in what I saw.