Monday, 14 August 2006

Broken

When I was eight I went to spend the night at my mum's friend. She was a neighbor, had no kids and her husband had gone abroad. As far as I could remember that was the first time I'd slept over at anyone's place. I must have before that but I don't recall any of the previous sleep overs. I still remember and will always will this one.

Aunt N was so happy to have me over. She asked my mum to let me come a bit early. I was there at five. She made me her famous chocolate chip cookies which I loved. She did not fear me spoiling my appetite like my mum. That was super cool. She made yellow rice (she actually added saffron, which I did not know then) and beef stew. It was yummy. She even let me stay late for TV which wasn't that late since TV ended at 10 sharp on week days.

I was a very curious kid - still is, curious I mean - and asked her questions non-stop. She obliged and seemed really happy to converse with me. I felt so grown up.

Later, after bath and wearing my pajamas, I jumped into her huge bed where she spread her wedding pictures which I'd seen before but quickly because the mums wanted to see them and it wouldn't have been polite to take one's time. Now, they were all mine. I asked questions about each and every picture. I was mesmerized by her pictures in her wedding dress. I'd never seen anyone in a black wedding dress before. I asked her about it and she went to her wardrobe asking me to shut my eyes till she told me otherwise. I did. When I opened them she was holding the dress against herself. The black glittering fabric looked weird against her white pale skin and her blondish hair. With brutal children frankness I remarked that she looked like she were in mourning. She smiled but she did not look pleased. She put it away and said Sleep time now. She switched off the light and got in bed.

She started telling me a story which bored me. I asked her how they met, she and her husband. Surely, that was more interesting that the rabbit tale she was telling me. She laughed and said that they did not meet. Then how did you get married I asked, puzzled. She explained that he saw her, came to ask for her hand. She saw him the day he came. He pleased her. They got married. This bored me too.

What do you want to do when you grow old? She asked.
Study.
And then?
Go to University I guess.
And then?
Become a doctor.
Why?
Because I think doctors look real classy and they are liked by people.
Hummm..

I felt so good to be able to talk to an adult so freely. She's so cool I thought.

And then? She interrupted my thoughts.
Get married and have babies.
Silence.

She's fallen asleep, I told myself.

The next day over lunch my mum asked, What did you tell N last night huh? Eight years old girls don't think about marrying and having babies. They concentrate on their homework, don't stay up late or TV and quit eating chocolate chip cookies all the time.

I felt as if someone was squeezing my insides. I felt a pain in a my heart. The food I was eating was suddenly tasteless.

Later, when I grew up, I realised that that was the day I got my first taste of broken trust.

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

Tags: :.: :.: :.: :.: :.: :.:

18 comments:

ChickyBabe said...

Ouch, that must have hurt. Did she know that everything you told her was in confidence?

Margaret said...

Oh, I don't think I would ever forget that one either. Sometimes when we idealze childhood, we forget how easily the wind got knocked from our sails and how real our little hurts could be.

Fitèna said...

CB, yeah she did! ecause I rememer hesitating before telling her the bit about getting married and the babies. She said, C'mon, you can tell me! You can trust me! haha!
What hurt more wasn't that, the way my mum spoke to me gave me the impression that she led my mum toblive that i'd asked for the cookies and to stay late for TV. I didn't ask for anything!

Margaret, you're so right! Whether its a blessing or a curse, I've yet to decide.But it's amazing how muh i remember from my childhood. Thinks I shouldn't, ecause they hurt real ad!

Fitèna

aadil said...

Am I the only one with the dirty mind but does the brown arrow-like long thing in the picture you have drawn strangely resembles a... oh well, forget it. I don't want to aggravate my case. ;D

jennifer said...

Oh,no. I was hoping that she just misunderstood that what you were sharing was private. But if she encouraged you to open up by telling you that she was trustworthy...sometimes I think adults
think that kids are somehow not fully human or something, like becauses they are children they can be betrayed, or lied to, and they will get over it because they are kids and they probable won't remember

Fitèna said...

Dear aadil, you musn't worry, you're the only and only one with dirty mind. :-p

Am I the only one with the dirty mind but does the brown arrow-like long thing in the picture you have drawn strangely resembles a... oh well, forget it. I don't want to aggravate my case. ;D

8/16/2006 10:53:57 PM


jennifer said...
Oh,no. I was hoping that she just misunderstood that what you were sharing was private. But if she encouraged you to open up by telling you that she was trustworthy...sometimes I think adults
think that kids are somehow not fully human or something, like becauses they are children they can be betrayed, or lied to, and they will get over it because they are kids and they probable won't remember

Jennifer, Welcome!
It's funny you saying that; the exact thoughts which went through my mind this morning! Forget? I don't think we do. No matter how we keep some stuff at the back of our memories, one way or the other they play a tremendous role in the life of the adult we're going to be.

Fitèna

Adeline said...

Oooh, didn't see that end coming.

I guess I didn't realise the things you told your aunt were in confidence. I tell pretty freely the stuff my neices and nephews tell me so maybe a word to the wise, huh?

If it is a secret, I can keep it, but if I don't know, I do tell.

agree with Jennifer.

ChickyBabe said...

Ce n'est pas juste! If you make a promise to a child, you keep it. I've been wanting to blog a personal story about that for a while. I may give it a try.

Fitèna said...

Adeline, I know what you mean. Still, even without my hesitations I did assume that the conversation we were having was private.
Maybe it's because of this that I don't freely tell what my little nephews and nieces tell me!

ChickyBabe, On apprend très t1/t que la vie n'est pas juste!
I'd say go ahead! I do feel a lot better after writng this. There are still some stuff left but am going to settle them with the persons concerned instead!

Fitèna

Aulelia said...

i agree with jennifer about adults seeing children as not fully grown. but fitena, maybe it was a blessing in disguise because it may have opened your heart and eyes 2 the fact that human beings simply can't be trusted (well the good majority of them from where i live!)

Fitèna said...

You're right aulelia but I guess i didn't want to realise that at such a early age!

Fitèna

Claire said...

That sucks. It reminds me of my mom- if I talk to my brother, she'll ask what he had to say and I always feel like saying, "well, why didn't you talk to him longer or stay on the phone?"

Our conversations are rarely personal or even noteworthy really, but it annoys me that she'll hang up "so you guys can talk" and then want to know what was said later. I generally keep my answers vague and brief.

Fitèna said...

Now Claire that sucks! Maybe she just thinks that he tells you stuff he does not share with her and the fact that he's far makes her prone to worry.

Fitèna

Roberta said...

Actually, I didn't consider that you'd told her specifically in confidence, because regardless, a conversation between two people has a sacredness to it.

To me where the trust was betrayed was that she was treating you, in your experience, as a person. As an equal. For the first time, you were not merely held in the diminished, somewhat dehumanized position of 'child'.

And then she took that all away from you by treating the relationship and the confiding as dismissible.

Pretty upsetting.

Roberta said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Fitèna said...

Roberta, welcome!
Have you ever felt something pretty strongly then tried to express it into words; thoughts or written and still ended up with the feeling that you've failed to make it come out the way it should have? That's how I've been feeling about this post. All the comments had their part of truthts, little truths which I've been trying to knit together to make this perfect expression of this feeling am talking about. I can stop now.
Thank you so very much for the deep comment. I couldn't have thought it and written it any better.

Fitèna

Roberta said...

Oh!!! (I wish you could hear the little "oh" sounds I'm making!)

Thank you so much! It was a very moving story... and I'm delighted to be reading your words.

And, pre-Blog Appreciation Day, I've been bragging to people that I have a reader from Mauritius. I know almost nothing about the world geography (I promise you, this is not an exaggeration), but I met a man once from Mauritius. He was a beautiful, magical man, like a black leprrechaun. He convinced me that one day I should go to Mauritius.

atpanda said...

Awe! Well, adults sometime don't realize how the smallest things they do affect kids. And we do remember, don't we?