Tiny Raven

My mother and I have a complicated relationship.

Granted my mother has a “complicated relationship” with the entire world.

Untreated narcissism will do that to a person.

The woman had driven away all my older siblings for one reason or another.

My eldest brother had been kicked out a month before his eighteenth birthday when he came out as gay.

The next oldest brother had married a “girl with no class.” She was a young woman who came from a working class family and had more melanin than mommy dearest thought appropriate. My brother brought his then-fiancée to Thanksgiving once, and that was the last time I had seen either of them.

Then there was my sister, who you would think would be the most beloved child. She was a successful lawyer who fought for kids who had no one else in their corner. She had married a man who was successful in his own right. He had been lucky enough to join a massively popular tech company early on. Together they had two wonderful, well-behaved kids. She was the epitome of every mother’s dream for her children.

Too bad my sister had been assigned male at birth. Mom still dead named and misgendered her every time we spoke.

Then there was the brother who just … left. One day he had been there and the next he was gone. No goodbye, no forwarding address. Just gone. I didn’t understand why. As far as I could tell he had been the favorite child who could do no wrong.

He was still the golden child, being the only one my mother didn’t complain about.

Five children, and only I still talked to her. But it wasn’t her fault. No, of course not. We were the ones in the wrong.

I would have stopped visiting her too, if my morals and guilt would let me. I knew that if I stopped visiting she wouldn’t have anyone and that bothered me. I didn’t think she deserved to be completely alone.

Despite everything, she was still my mom. I still loved her.

When I had moved out I decided I would see her once a month, if only to make sure she was okay and didn’t need anything. I used up one of my precious days off to ensure she hadn’t died in her sleep. I would make small chat and give vague updates about my siblings.Just enough that she wasn’t curious enough to force herself into their lives. I would listen to her rant and complain about how they had all turned their backs on her. How she was so lonely and unloved.

I parked in the driveway of her nice little suburban home. A quick self check in the rearview mirror to make sure I didn’t look like complete garbage, and I left my car.

I knocked on the door and everything shifted.

My mother didn’t answer. Instead there was a bunny monster I had never met who opened the door in welcome.

She looked exhausted, bags under her eyes and a tired droop to her ears.

For a moment I thought I had come to the wrong house. That I had been too distracted by my thoughts and was at one of the neighbors’ homes instead. It wasn’t impossible. Mom lived in one of those neighborhoods where the houses were cookie-cutter similar. It was sometimes difficult to tell them apart.

But no. I took a step back and looked at the house number and sure enough, this was the right place. House number 442.

“You work here?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm and level.

The bunny woman opened her mouth to speak, but the collar blinked. She looked distressed as she nodded.

Of course she had been ordered to be quiet. Mother liked quiet.

“Great. I’m the daughter, I don’t know if you’ve heard of me or not.” I said as I stepped inside. I didn’t bother to take off my jacket or messenger bag, since I knew I wouldn’t be staying. “I won’t be here long. It was nice to meet you.”

The bunny lady nodded, although I wasn’t sure if that was acknowledging what I had said, or if it was an assertion that she had heard of me.

If the latter, I doubt she had heard anything good.

I walked into the reading room where I knew my mother would be. She was lounging on the couch with some fruity cocktail and reading what looked like a cheap thriller novel.

I leaned against the entryway and somehow kept the venom from my voice.

“I see you got a slave.”

I had long learned to be quiet in her home, so the old woman hadn’t heard me come in. My voice breaking the silence was enough to startle her into spilling her drink on her lap.

I couldn’t help it as I grinned and chuckled a little, ‘Serves her right.’

“Yes,” she said as she put the glass on the side table. “I needed some help around the – ”

“You know,” I said, cutting her off as she began to clean herself off. “There are services for that kind of thing. You pay them, they clean your house or weed your garden or do whatever you need. You don’t actually have to, oh I don’t know, buy someone.”

She huffed at me, “I know you’re pro-rights for these things – ”

“People, mother. People.” I spat, anger beginning to build hot in my chest. “I’m pro-rights for people who deserve full rights.”

Her mouth scrunched up like she had eaten a raw lemon, and she closed her book with a snap. “I don’t want to have this conversation with you right now.”

“Oh?” I said, pushing myself off the door frame. I wasn’t tall by any means, but I drew myself to my full height. I towered over her where she sat. “I don’t want to have this conversation either, but apparently we’re going to have to because you bought a slave.”

“So? It isn’t like they’re rare or anything,” she said.

I bit back a retort, measuring my breaths in an attempt to keep calm. “If I find out you have done anything out of line with her – ”

The bitch brushed off my words with a derisive snort. “What will you do? It’s my property, I can do anything I want with it.”

“There are laws – ”

She waved a dismissive hand, cutting me off again. “I can afford a decent lawyer. You can’t do anything to me.” She met my eyes with fire in her own. “You never could.”

There was a challenge in those words, a challenge that brought forth memories I had buried deep long ago. Years of suppressed anger boiled to the surface and I felt my core go cold in its wake. A dangerous calm settled over me.

“Fuck. You.” I said, slowly and clearly. “Fuck you right to hell.” The woman looked scandalized but I kept going, unable and unwilling to stop. “If I find out you have hurt her, I will come for you. I will do everything I can to make sure you end up right where you belong.”

I turned and stomped back to the front door, where the bunny monster was still standing. I didn’t know how much of the conversation she had heard, and I didn’t bother explaining. I rifled through my bag for the small notebook and pen I kept with me.

“I don’t know if you heard any of that,” I said, trying to blunt the edge to my voice even as I radiated fury. “If she does anything, call me. Okay? I will do whatever I can to help you. I promise.”

I scrawled out my phone number and tore off the paper to give to her.

She took it with a nod and opened the door for me.

“Good riddance, mother!” I shouted, then shot an apologetic look at the bunny, who had winced at my raised voice.

“Good luck, and I mean it,” I tapped the paper in her hands. “Call me if you need to.”

With that done, I shouldered my bag and walked to my car to make the hour drive back to my apartment in the city.

What a waste of a Sunday afternoon.