by Piper Lee White<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Abandonment stung like lemon juice poured into open wounds.<\/p>\n
As a toddler, my mother told me there was a sprout in the backyard of my grandma\u2019s house. She told me it was a lemon tree. Dogwoods and Cherry Blossoms bloomed in houses near my grandmother\u2019s, but never a lemon tree.<\/p>\n
My mother brought me to water the sprout with her whenever we visited my grandmother\u2019s house. In my velcro shoes, I toddled over to it with a yellow watering can in my hand. Water sloshed onto my shoes, making them slippery. I tripped once and skinned my knee on a brick. I cried as I watched my mother clean the wound and stick a floral bandaid on it.<\/p>\n
\u201cSee,\u201d she said, \u201cthat wasn\u2019t so bad, was it?\u201d<\/p>\n
I sniffled. \u201cIt still hurts, Mommy.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJust don\u2019t think about it, Sweetie,\u201d she said. \u201cThe pain won\u2019t last forever.\u201d<\/p>\n
That was the last day I saw my mother.<\/p>\n
\u201cI love you,\u201d she said, after she tucked me into bed and kissed her favorite spot on my forehead.<\/p>\n
She crept out of my room quietly. I didn\u2019t stir until I heard a car start. I ran to the window where I watched my mother drive away in her old, white Toyota.<\/p>\n
My grandmother ran down the driveway after her.<\/p>\n
\u201cAmanda!\u201d she screamed. \u201cGet back here!\u201d<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
I had no money for the doll I wanted at 8 years old. My mother promised me one before she left, but didn\u2019t give herself the chance to get me one. She never sent us letters, never called. Everything was silent. Sometimes, I waited by the window to see if my mother\u2019s white Toyota would come up the drive again. Car brakes and slammed doors alerted me, but it was never my mom.<\/p>\n
\u201cGrandma,\u201d I said, \u201cI really want a doll.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, I can\u2019t afford a doll right now,\u201d she said. \u201cMaybe you should have a lemonade stand. It\u2019s really hot today. I’m sure some people would love some lemonade!\u201d<\/p>\n
There were two ripe lemons on the lemon tree. I left the green one to ripen some more, even though my fingers itched to pick it.<\/p>\n
I set up my stand on the sidewalk near the corner store. Cars passed, a couple honked at me, but nobody stopped.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey, little lady,\u201d a man in a red pickup hollered.<\/p>\n
\u201cWould you like some lemonade?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cGet out of here!\u201d the man from the corner store yelled.<\/p>\n
I ran home without packing up my lemonade stand. I cried to Grandma about it, and she came with me to retrieve everything. All the lemonade spilled.<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
At 12 my breasts grew and I needed a bra. My grandma gave me the talk on the way to the mall. I squirmed in the passenger seat, hoping my movement would drown out the word \u201csex\u201d falling from my grandma\u2019s lips.<\/p>\n
My first bra came from a Sears because it was what my grandma could afford. I looked at myself in the mirror with the bra on. I didn\u2019t feel like me. I didn\u2019t look like me anymore either. My hair grew longer and all my baby fat shed. I dug in my memory box for a photo of my mother and I posed by the lemon sprout. I was her carbon copy.<\/p>\n
\u201cAmanda,\u201d my grandma said, but quickly caught her tongue. \u201cAmy, I\u2019m sorry. Lunch is ready.\u201d<\/p>\n
My throat tightened, and eyes stung as I put the photo back in the memory box. I didn\u2019t want to be my mother.<\/p>\n
We ate lunch outside on the patio. Grandma made lemonade and ham sandwiches. She didn\u2019t mention her slip up of my name, and pretended it didn\u2019t happen.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis lemonade is really good,\u201d she said, pouring me a glass.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not thirsty,\u201d I said, shoving more of my sandwich into my mouth.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t want something that was once bitter in my mouth. Especially if it came from the lemon tree.<\/p>\n
I helped Grandma clean up then returned outside to observe the lemon tree. Since I was 8 years old, a single lemon grew in the corner of the tree, always in the same spot. I picked it every year, but left it in the dirt to be devoured by bugs. It wasn\u2019t quite ripe enough yet, but I plucked it off the tree anyway. It thumped when it hit the ground, and I stepped on it in my pink flip flop. Juice oozed from within, lemon pods getting stuck between my toes.<\/p>\n
That night, while Grandma slept, I sheared my hair to my shoulders. My plan for the next day was to squeeze lemon juice on it to lighten it. I wanted her to know I was Amy and not Amanda. Amanda didn\u2019t exist anymore.<\/p>\n
Grandma didn\u2019t say much about my new hair.<\/p>\n
\u201cAmy,\u201d she said, \u201cbig change. Did you lighten your hair too?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWith lemon juice,\u201d I said. \u201cDo you like it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, it is something new,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
Regardless if she liked it or not, she called me Amy.<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
At 13 I started my period while sunbathing outside. I looked down from my magazine and noticed a red spot on my white shorts. I ran to the bathroom and put toilet paper into my underwear to keep from soiling my shorts even more.<\/p>\n
\u201cGrandma,\u201d I said. \u201cI think I started\u2026 you know.\u201d<\/p>\n
When I pointed downward she got the hint and quickly drove off to the store. Upon her return, she explained to me how to use both pads and tampons. I opted for the pad because the tampon seemed like a torture device. She left me in the bathroom to put it on. It felt like a diaper. I held my abdomen when a cramp rippled through it. I broke down on the linoleum floor of my grandma\u2019s bathroom. I wanted my mother. I wanted my mother to hold me while I cried and to rub my aching stomach. I wanted to hear about when she got her first period and how bad it hurt so I didn\u2019t feel alone.<\/p>\n
\u201cAmy,\u201d my grandma said, knocking, \u201care you alright?\u201d<\/p>\n
I opened the door for her. She tried her best to duck down to hug me, but her weak knees prevented her from doing so.<\/p>\n
\u201cI want my mom,\u201d I cried.<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
At 15, I went for a drive with my best friend, Kylie, her boyfriend, Jake, and his best friend, Rodney. We went off-roading in Jake\u2019s truck which made Kylie giggle. They stuck me in the backseat with Rodney who kept trying to grab my thigh. I shot daggers at him each time and he sheepishly pulled his hand away.<\/p>\n
\u201cWant to go to the secret spot?\u201d Jaked asked us.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s the secret spot?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019ll see,\u201d Kylie said, grinning.<\/p>\n
Jake parked his car behind our high school, jumping out to help Kylie out of his truck. Rodney followed them, grabbing a duffle bag from the bed of the truck.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat are we doing at the school?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
Rodney tossed me a can of cheap beer they probably stole from the corner store. I\u2019d never drank before and had no desire to then.<\/p>\n
\u201cHave you never drank before?\u201d Rodney asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d I said. \u201cIt\u2019s gross.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCome on,\u201d Jake said. \u201cJust try it.\u201d<\/p>\n
Beer fizzed over onto my hand at the click of the beer tab. I shook it off, but it left my hand sticky with a repulsive smell. Holding my breath, I threw back a swig of beer and immediately spit it back out. The boys and Kylie laughed while enjoying their own. I held my nose to stomach the beer, but the aftertaste of stale bread stayed in the back of my throat. We were playing a drinking game when the red and blue flashes bounced off our faces. Jake hid the beer, but I knew we couldn\u2019t hide the smell of it on our breath.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat are you kids doing out here?\u201d the officer asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cJust wanted somewhere new to hangout is all,\u201d Jake said.<\/p>\n
The officer spotted the empty beer can behind Jake.<\/p>\n
\u201cI could take you in for underage drinking,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
\u201cOfficer,\u201d Kylie said, \u201cplease don\u2019t. It\u2019s our first time and I know it\u2019s stupid. It won\u2019t happen again, I swear.\u201d<\/p>\n
Kylie\u2019s pleas landed us only with phone calls to our parents. Jake, Kylie and Rodney called theirs first.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom\u2019s number or Dad\u2019s number?\u201d The officer pierced me with the question.<\/p>\n
\u201cI live with my grandma,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
She picked me up, furiously slamming on the gas to bring me home. She stayed silent the whole car ride and I didn\u2019t dare test it. Her angry banter didn\u2019t begin until we were in the door at home. She nagged about Kylie being a bad influence and that I was too young to be going out with boys. Especially boys like Jake and Rodney.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re acting just like your mother!\u201d she said. \u201cShe\u2019d be so disappointed in you!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI am not my mother!\u201d I screamed.<\/p>\n
I left my grandma with her mouth agape in the kitchen. I slammed my bedroom door shut and pulled out my memory box. I found the photo of my mother and I, quickly ripping it in half. I took the two pieces into the backyard and threw them into our fire pit. When I threw a match in, I watched the photo curl into the embers of the small flame. My grandmother watched, too guilty to approach me. I left the ash to blow away in the wind.<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
I had sex with Rodney under the lemon tree a year later. I had no emotional connection to him, but I wanted to do it. Kylie talked about her and Jake doing it all the time and I felt left out. She claimed it was amazing and magical.<\/p>\n
I invited Rodney over to work on our algebra homework. The spring heat crept up and it was sticky outside. I initiated the kiss and went from there, but there was nothing magical about it. The pressure didn\u2019t subside for the whole 5 minutes we did it, and when he left, I didn\u2019t feel anything. I stared at the lemon tree and the lone lemon in the corner that I hadn\u2019t picked off yet. I thought of my mother.<\/p>\n
A week later I couldn\u2019t stop peeing; I hadn\u2019t drank more than a glass of water. Grandma watched me run to and from the bathroom all day. She left for the store that evening. At around 5:00, she returned. She questioned me, and I told her it burned when I went to the bathroom. Her diagnosis was a UTI.<\/p>\n
\u201cCranberry juice,\u201d my grandma said. \u201cYour mother had one when she was a teenager and it helped her a lot.\u201d<\/p>\n
I chugged a gallon of cranberry juice outside by the lemon tree. I thought about my mom and if my dad had been her first time. Or, if, like me, she lost it to a boy who couldn\u2019t figure out algebra. Grandma joined me after a while, pulling up a lawn chair.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid you know my dad?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, Amy,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you think he knew about me?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cWould he have left me how Mom left me?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
Grandma cheered for me as loud as she could when I walked the stage to grab my diploma. The applause when my name was called was minimal, due to my short guest list. But, I heard Grandma loud and clear, and it got me through the walk. It hurt when I watched other students get called and their parents jumping up for them. My mother, who dropped out of high school, didn\u2019t even stick around to watch her daughter accomplish what she didn\u2019t. After the reception, I found Grandma outside and gave her a huge hug.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m so proud of you,\u201d she said, kissing my forehead, the spot where my mother used to kiss me when I was a child.<\/p>\n
Kylie snapped a picture of Grandma and me on her Polaroid.<\/p>\n
\u201cA new photo for my memory box,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
That night, when I placed the photograph in my memory box along with my graduation cap, I stared at myself. I made it a habit not to stare too long because I saw my mother within my eyes. But, even though my hair grew back and I shared my mother\u2019s smile, I couldn\u2019t find her anymore.<\/p>\n
The sound of a chainsaw woke me. I ran to the backyard to find a man cutting down the branches of the lemon tree.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat the hell are you doing?\u201d I shouted.<\/p>\n
\u201cCutting down the tree,\u201d he said, stunned by the anger bubbling out of me.<\/p>\n
I found Grandma inside.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy is that random man cutting down the lemon tree?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause I hired him to,\u201d she said. \u201cThere will be more space in the backyard and, now that you\u2019re going to college, I have no use for it anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n
I watched from the window as the man made it to the corner that bore the single lemon. Before the chainsaw blades hit the branch, the lemon fell to the ground. The man\u2019s giant, black boot collided with the lemon, crushing it.<\/p>\n
Grandma grabbed my shoulders as I watched our lemon tree come down.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt still hurts sometimes, Grandma,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
\u201cThink about it all you need to,\u201d Grandma said. \u201cJust remember, that pain doesn\u2019t last forever.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Piper White is a university student studying creative writing and publishing. Her niche is fiction and she has two self published fiction books.<\/p>\n