Finally A Mother Daughter Conversation

Yellow Mama 2014

"If you're going to slit your wrists do it the right way," Bette's mother told her.

"If you lay in a tub and blade across the wrist of course you'll get blood and sympathy. If you do it the right way, cutting the vein top to bottom, you'll still get blood and sympathy but you'll also get peace and resolve."

"Decide what you want because I'm tired of having your stomach pumped only to find Tylenol when there is plenty of Oxy around. I'm sick to death of these bathtub razor skits and far from impressed at your jumping onto the tracks of a subway when there's more than enough time and people to save you. Do you understand? If you want to yell "Help" and you mean it then do so and your father and I will put you in the best facility to help you; otherwise go about a normal life or do the deed right."

Bette, her nineteen year old daughter nodded and left the room returning from the kitchen with a long thin deboning knife. She sat across from her mother passing the knife from hand to hand while her mother cautioned her about getting blood on the white furniture and carpets. "At least let me get you some plastic sheets," she said.

"Goodbye, Mother," Bette said. "I wished you'd have kept me home and not in boarding schools and I wanted so badly to have mother-daughter talks about boys and school and getting my first period but you were off traveling and I was only a vacation visitor with an open bank account and no limit credit cards to be the good little girl and not bother you."

"Nothing ever satisfied you," Bette's mother said. "Nothing at all."

"This will" Bette said as she lunged foreword with the knife, twice plunging it into her mother's chest. And against everything she believed in, her mother stained her precious white carpet and couch red.

 

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