They all went there, to the river, to be freed of their sins, as if being dunked in the water could truly wash away all the horrible things they had done in their lives, hypocrites. Some drunks, some abusers and some just wanting to start again, but all hoping for forgiveness, all hoping that they could erase the pain they had caused, and maybe even pain that someone had imposed on them.
Every Sunday a new group of ‘sinners’ roll up to be absolved of their actions. I see them on my walk home from work, and all I feel is anger. I grew up with one of these “kinds” of people, my mother, a complete train wreck, selfish woman, a gambler. My sister Aria and I, often had no food and had to fend for ourselves, sometimes stealing food from the local store to survive. As soon as I was able, I got a job to support us, ironically at the same local store. Luckily my mother was too busy elsewhere to notice, or I am sure she would have come looking for the little money I make.
“Lucy, where are you?” Aria was calling out to me. She often waited for me by the old willow tree, 200 meters from our house. “I am here”, I yell and wave as I pick up the pace. She loved seeing me after work. I think she gets lonely waiting for me to come home.
“Hey, how was your day?” I said, she smiled and looked at my backpack. “Good, good” she said, clearly distracted, and trying to see if my bag looked bigger than when I left this morning. “Come on, Lucy, did you bring anything home?” I smiled cheekily at her, “What do you mean?” “Like what?” I said, as I smiled and laughed a little, giving myself away. “You did!” “What did you bring me?” she said, smiling with excitement. I stopped walking and reached into my bag, and pulled out and oversized chocolate bar. “Oh My God!” “You are the best Luce,” “I love you forever,” she said jumping and snatching the chocolate bar, “I know” I said, we both laughed, holding hands as we walked home.
As we arrive home, the feeling of dread creeps in. “She hasn’t come home, has she?” I ask, “Who?” “Mum?” “No,” Aria said, shaking her head while eating some of the chocolate bar, “good.” I say and exhale, relaxing. I am tired and need to relax. Even though it has been nearly a year since we last saw Mum, I still cannot shake the feeling that one day she will turn up and create havoc in our now calm home.
“What about the landlord, Mr Peterson? Has he called again?” “Nope”, Aria said. “He hasn’t called back since you spoke to him last week and requested an extension to pay the rent.” Mr Peterson often mistook my voice for my mother’s on the phone, so I just kept that little misunderstanding going. I shiver when I think what will happen to us if he finds out that Mum has not been here for a long time.
“What about Tim? Has he come back?” I asked, Aria shrugged, “I don’t know, I haven’t seen their car today”. Tim was our neighbour and my friend from school. We had graduated college together, their family had gone away for the weekend. His mother, Heidi, knew about our absent mother, she often bought extra food home from her shift at the bakery and sent it over with Tim when he came to visit. I felt immense gratitude but also shame for having to accept it, but it is not just about me and how I feel. I have Aria to look after, and she is only 17.
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