How Could My Mother Do This To Me

Doesn’t she know it’s the last thing a girl ever wants?

Everything had been going as well as could be expected until I came home from school one afternoon and my mother announced, “I’ve made you an appointment to go see Dr. Bennett on Saturday.”

“Why?” I asked.

“To get checked out.”

“Checked out for what?” I asked, confused. “I’m fine.”

“You’ve been throwing up a lot lately and…”

“It’s nothing,” I cut her off. “I had the flu.” I couldn’t tell her it was because I’d been learning smoke.

“After what happened here in September.”

“Oh, my God!” I screeched. “Will you give it up?”

“I wanna make sure,” she said.

“Make sure of what?” I snapped.

“That you’re not pregnant,” she said loud enough the entire house could hear.

“You must be kidding.” I felt like life was turning upside down on me. “How many times must I tell you?” I screeched, “I didn’t do anything to get pregnant!”

“You can’t be sure,” she said. “You don’t know. You very well might be. You think…”

“How would I?” I screamed. “I never had sex! I do know how babies are made.”

“You’d be surprised. You wouldn’t be the first girl who…”

“You’re unbelievable!”

“That’s the trouble with you, Barbara Ann. You think you know everything. You think you…”

I stood with my fists clenched. Screamed as loud as I could for as long as I could to drown her out. It was just like her not to believe or trust me.

I wanted to scream until the roof lifted from its rafters.

Instead, I ran to my bedroom holding in the words I wanted to scream back at her. I wanted to tell her I knew she hid Will’s letter, that I knew about her breaking up Dorothy and her boyfriend years ago, and that she was nothing but a big fat liar. But I kept all that inside.

I sat on my bed, letting the tears flow, relieved I’d kept my mouth shut and kept my promise to Dorothy to never tell my mother what she’d told me. There was no way I could risk my mother losing trust in Dorothy, and I couldn’t risk Dorothy losing trust in me.

I needed all the help I could get to battle my mother.

At Dr. Bennett’s office on Saturday morning, he had me sit on the examination table and felt my neck, checked my ears, had me open my mouth, and checked inside and down my throat. It was nothing too usual until he handed me a blue cotton gown and told me to remove my clothing from the waist down.

He pulled the curtain around the table, leaving me behind it, and sent my mother to wait in another room.

My mother huffed and left, closing the door with a bang.

I took off my jeans and panties and sat them on a chair, then climbed up on the table and waited, not knowing what would happen next. The doctor pulled back the curtain, and said, “Your mother is very concerned about you.”

“There’s nothing for her to be concerned about.”

“Let’s put her mind at ease,” he said, touching my shoulder. “Lie back and relax.”

I did as he asked, believing I had no choice. But at that moment I hated him as much as I hated my mother. He was nothing more than her puppet. Doing what she wanted instead of what was best for me.

He’d been her doctor longer than he’d been mine. In fact, he was the one who’d delivered me into this world, the one who’d seen me through all my coughs and colds, mumps and measles, and other childhood illnesses. Now he was about to do this?

“Your mother only wants what’s best for you,” he said, lifting my gown while I stayed rigid. “She mentioned you’d been intimate with a boy.”

I wanted to leap up. Scream, fuck off. I wanted to put my clothes on. Wanted to rush from the room.

Instead, I said, “I didn’t have sex, if that’s what you mean.”

“Your mother wants to make sure all is fine.”

“Everything’s fine, like I keep telling her. She just doesn’t believe me.”

“Put your feet here.” He guided each foot. “Relax your legs and we’ll make sure. Put your mother’s mind at ease, huh?”

“This is a complete waste of time,” I said, moving my bum down, squeezing my knees tighter together. “She thinks I’m pregnant, but I’m not.”

He reached behind him to get something I couldn’t see. “It doesn’t hurt to be examined anyway,” he said. “Wriggle your bum down a little further. Okay, good, yes, now… let your knees fall open… relax.”

I put my hand over my eyes. My legs spread. An old man’s hands touching me — disgusting!

I’d lost all control over my life.

Suddenly, I wished I was pregnant just to spite my mother. Oh, how she would gloat at the fact she’d been right, but I’d get the satisfaction of seeing her panic, seeing the fear in her eyes. Would my being pregnant change things? Would she then allow Will to be with me? Insist we get married?

Or would she force me to give up the baby for adoption, like someone probably made Kathleen’s mother give her away?

I regretted not going all the way with Will, especially since I was being accused of it, anyway.

The doctor finished the examination, told me to get dressed and join my mother and him in the next room.

I pulled on my clothes quickly, hoping it would lessen the memory of what I’d never forget.

I went into the adjoining room. I plopped down on a chair, my arms folded across my chest, my eyes refusing to look at either of them.

“Good news,” the doctor said. “She’s not pregnant.”

“Told you so,” I mumbled, still refusing to look at either of them.

“Oh! Thank God. Thank God!” my mother said. “Thank God. I didn’t know what we’d do if she was.”

“Hope you’re happy,” I spat, hating how they talked about me like I wasn’t there.

“Why’s she throwing up so much?” Mom asked.

“You must not worry so, Violet,” the doctor said.

“She still a virgin?” my mother blurted, almost making my eyes fly out of my head. I couldn’t believe her nerve. But it got worse when she asked, “How far did that boy get with her?”

“You must be kidding?” I said, unable to fully believe what was happening.

“Her hymen is not intact,” the doctor explained. “But that doesn’t mean anything happened with her and that boy. It could be from playing sports, inserting a tampon, many things. It doesn’t mean she had sexual intercourse, Violet. Don’t worry, she’s fine. She’s a healthy young woman. Go home and relax. Put this all behind you.”

Put it behind me! I wanted to scream. He must be crazy to think I would put it behind me and forget. Never. Not in a million, trillion years would I forget.

How could I ever forget what my mother’s put me through? How she made my father chase Will away. Hid Will’s letter. Brought me to the doctor and subjected me to such humiliation.

My mother could never justify her actions. And it made me even more worried about what else she might be capable of.

At home, for the next week, I got up every morning. Dressed and headed off to school. The last thing I wanted was to be anywhere near my mother. Afraid of what I might say if I allowed myself to have a voice.

The above story is part of a series. If you’d like to read the rest. Check out the link below.

In case you missed what happened in September, you can read about it here.