Fragile (standard:Inspirational stories, 2913 words)
Author: girl2love	Added: Jun 16 2003	Views/Reads: 3700/2279	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Summary: This story is for my parents and I thought especially of my grandparents during this story, and I realize how you can be near someone and not know that person at all, this one is about secrets kept from each other and growing up in difficult time

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

dirt on her face. I had quickly scrambled under the bed, but I did not 
hide in our secret room. There was no time. I saw what those soldiers 
saw. Mother was fair with long ebony hair and had gentle features. She 
would be a gift for one of the generals. Mother cried and pleaded with 
them. She said that she was not a virgin and that she would give them 
her valuables in exchange. But one of the soldiers was insistent and 
did not let Mother off.  It was then that I revealed myself. The 
soldier's yellow eyes gleamed. I will never forget those eyes. 

They took Mother and me away. I was silent throughout. Mother kept
crying. She held me and murmured to herself. They took us to a 
high-ranking general. I assumed that from the way all the soldiers 
showed respect tinged with fear for him. He looked upon us with only 
kindness in his eyes. I thought that nothing would happen to Mother and 
me. I thanked the gods for protecting us. We could have been given to a 
crazed general who would perform unspeakable acts on us. 

The general knew English. He spoke to us and explained that he would not
harm us, but he looked at Mother with that look in his eyes. I knew 
that he was already planning to have Mother in his bed. I did not make 
any noise. I stared at him without blinking. He called for a soldier to 
arrange a cot for me in his study. He took Mother by the arm and led 
her into his bedroom. 

Mother was screaming that she did not want to be separated from me. But
who were we to decide? Our fates were in the hands of the general. The 
general closed the door slowly. I strained to catch a glimpse of my 
mother.  A woman servant then led me to the cot in the study. I studied 
her face. She had sadness in her eyes. I could see that she was once a 
beauty. It was obvious that she was one of the Japanese soldiers' 
comfort women. I remained silent. She stared at me. It was as though 
she hated me. I realized that she thought I was there to replace her as 
the general's woman. I saw the look in her eyes and I recognized it as 
a look of fierce jealousy and of love. She had fallen in love with the 
general. I could understand that, as he was a man of good looks. The 
rest of the soldiers looked the same but the general was very handsome 
compared to the rest of them. 

I watched her as she passed the general's room. As recognition dawned on
her, she had a look of enormous envy on her face. I think that Mother 
would have gladly switched places with her. The general emerged from 
the room shortly after an hour or so. I ran in to find Mother sobbing 
gently. “What have I done?” she asked herself repeatedly. She did not 
realize I was there. We continued to live with the general until the 
end of the war. 

When the war was over, Mother and I quickly returned to find our house
intact. In our absence, the general had sent a few men to safeguard our 
possessions. I think that we were fortunate in many ways. We picked up 
the pieces of our lives and continued to live on. One day, Father 
returned. This time he was here to stay. 

He was furious to learn that Mother had been a Japanese general's woman.
He often hurled abuse at her and called her ‘unclean'. Mother never 
fought back. It was then that he really tested my patience. I was not 
like Mother. She was submissive and she felt resigned to her fate. She 
also felt unworthy of any love after being used by the general. 

Mother and I visited a fortune-teller who was recommended by a neighbor.
He was known to be very accurate. However, he lived in another village 
a few miles away. This also meant that he would not be able to predict 
our fates from gossip or talk. When I saw him, I immediately felt that 
he was someone whom would not lie to us, may our fates be good or bad. 
He took my Mother's hand and sighed. “A harsh life. It will follow you 
to your death. You will never be happy for long in your short life. 
Cherish your daughter. She will be the reason you live on. Do not keep 
the secrets anymore. Write them down for her. Let her know your story. 
And your mother's story,” he then looked at me. I looked back 
earnestly. I was determined to get a good reading. “Be strong. He will 
try to kill you. Again and again until you give in. Do not fall.  Fight 
him. Or you will never be happy... Misfortune follows the women of your 
line. All of you have loved too hard and too long. Too strong for those 
weaklings you married. Instead of treasuring you, they often tried to 
break you...” He suddenly paused. A tense silence followed. He then 
spoke. “ I said too much already. It is not good for you to know too 
much. It is never good to know too much,” he looked weary and told us 
to go. He refused to take any of Mother's money. I looked back at him 
as we walked away. He seemed so small and sad sitting at that little 
red table. It was almost as if he felt sorry for us. 

It was the year 1950 and I was 19. Father arranged for me to be married.
Neither Mother nor I were consulted. The prospective in-laws came to 
visit, their son in tow. The person I was supposed to spend the rest of 
my life with. I felt fear take over me. They were pleased with me and 
settled with a reasonable price for my dowry. Was I supposed to feel 
relieved or afraid? As the days neared the wedding, I felt this 
increasing fear within my heart. I felt that my life would never be 
peaceful again. And how right I was. I should have fought, and told my 
parents I didn't want to marry him. But I simply went along with the 
flow. How much regret I feel with every single day of my life. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Secrets 

Many people kept telling me how fortunate I was to marry into his
family. They never knew what went on behind that mask of his. They 
never knew his secrets. The second time I set my eyes on him was on our 
wedding day. It then struck me how tall and foreboding he was. He 
looked as though he would be a good husband. Another misconception. We 
had never spoken before. I realized there was so much I did not know 
about him. We got married in a quiet ceremony near my new home. I 
turned 20 a few weeks later. 

At first, he was very gentle and I thought that my life was not as ill
fated as what the fortune-teller had predicted my life to be. I thought 
that I could be happy with him. The first month we lived together, I 
was vibrant. I busied myself with the housework and prepared meals. 
Seeing him enjoy the food I had cooked brought warmth into my heart. 

Then he began to ill-treat me. He began to beat me and scold me for no
reason. If the food was not to his taste, he would pinch me hard. I 
often had blue-black marks all over my arms. If I dared to argue back, 
he would then proceed to slap me and beat me, over and over again, 
until I begged for mercy. Nobody visited me. I was always lonely; he 
too barely spoke to me. What meaning was there in a relationship like 
this? 

The years slowly went by. With each passing, I lost a little of myself.
I began to feel that if I won his approval, he might love me one day. I 
was stuck in a loveless relationship with nobody to talk to. Maybe if I 
went out and talked to someone, I would have realized the fault wasn't 
mine. I wasted six years of my youth on him. 

When I was twenty-six, I received a package from my mother. Inside was a
hand-written diary. Curious, I began to flip through the pages. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Dreams 

My name is Alyssa. I was born in 1914. I gave birth to a daughter in
1931, named Elle. I have made maybe many mistakes in my life, but I 
will never regret having my daughter. She is my one and only hope. I 
married a man who did not care for me. I learnt that God had not given 
up on me, because I had Elle. She was everything to me. 

Elle, my parents were strong and honest hard working people. When they
died, I was left in the care of an uncle who cared for naught but his 
gold. He married me to your father. Even though your father and I had 
you, your father was never good to me. I am sorry for not telling you 
about your birth. It has nothing to do with you but it just hurt so 
much I couldn't bear telling you. I had a man I loved. I have never 
seen him again. That wretched hurt look in his eyes continues to haunt 
me forever, even after my death. It will never be your fault and please 
do not hate me for this. 

My daughter, I am so sorry. I married you into a life of misery. Be
strong for me. I hope you do not blame me... because all I wanted was 
the best for you... I have only written a little in this diary, fill in 
the rest for your children to know. Please do not forget me... even 
after I leave this world. I love you more than anything or anyone else, 
and I hope you will love your children that way too. 

I will always love you. Remember our dreams and hopes, all the games we
played, all the times we had together and never let them go. Our 
memories are ours and nobody can take that away from us. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Shallow 

I do not think I will have any children. Not from this loveless
marriage. Mother is not well. I know that deep down. She will not live 
long. I have asked to accompany Mother through her last years, but he 
has not given me a reply. 

This is amazing. I am actually two months pregnant. The child will come
soon.  I will take the child with me to Mother. The days passed like 
minutes. I did not have to work like a slave. I was allowed to rest.  
Soon, I had my child. He was like a miracle, I had never seen anything 
so tiny yet so beautiful. I had hoped for a daughter, and minutes 
later, my daughter came out crying into this world. 

I named my son Rama, and my daughter Lalita. She who plays.  I love them
both very much. In some weeks, I will be able to go to Mother and bring 
the children. She would be so delighted. Arrangements were made for my 
children and me to travel to Mother safely. 

It shocked me to see how Mother had aged in the few years I had been
gone. She looked so old and fragile. She didn't seem like herself. She 
often gazed out at the garden, lost in thought. The sadness lurked deep 
in her eyes. Father was nowhere to be seen. When I asked her about him, 
she merely shrugged and continued to tickle my children. They adored 
her. This I was very glad to see... 

I can't remember much now.  It is the year 2003. I am 72 this year. My
children are both 46. They are both happily married and I have many 
grandchildren. I have no wish to burden them with all the dark secrets. 
I will only let them know the truth when I die. I am happy. I can say I 
have no more regrets... and I can now go in peace... 

As I watch my grandchildren play in the backyard, life buzzing around
me, I finally realize that all the satisfaction I wanted all my life, a 
proper family, was what I had all along. Funny how it took me so long 
to actually realize all of this, but I will one day look down upon my 
descendants and know that we are no longer fragile. No more.


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