The Red Dress by Mae Fuller

The Red Dress by Mae Fuller

Strange memories of the past came flooding back to the present; I was strapped into a cart and speeding down the roller-coaster track.   The fun fair colourful lights illuminated an array of scenes racing speedily  by leaving me quite breathless.     I remember desperately wishing for it all to end.   I can’t remember how old I was but remember gripping  the bar tightly and felt that strange feeling of holding on for dear life for fear of falling into the abyss.

I realise I must do the same for this situation.  “Maya.  Please can you go upstairs and put the black dress on.”  “No, Mama,”  came her swift response.   It was only at this moment as  I counted the days in my head when I realise that I have not seen very much of my children this week.   The thought that  I had not seen them since we were at the hospital, made me conscious of my shortcomings as a mother.  Uncomfortable with this thought, I found myself making excuses, and given the circumstances, concluded  that it is understandable for my daughter’s first words to me is an expression of defiance of the situation.  Although, I felt ashamed at having left my children with my sister, Anne, I was relieved to not being here in the last days.    I wish she hadn’t left as I am in need of her help right now.

On my own with the children, feelings of fear for the unknown seem to take hold of me.  This can’t be happening to me!  How am I going to handle the situation?   This must be a terrible mistake.  I felt the tears swell up in my eyes and tried hard to fight them back.  This is not the time to cave in to these overwhelming emotions.   I cannot afford to do that.   The voice in my head reminded me that I had three children to think about.     I am aware that it is too soon to digest all that has happened in the last week, only knowing that this eventful  change to our lives will have a significant impact upon all our futures.    These last days seemed surreal.

Struggling to suppress the urge to scream out for help,  I look to Maya.  She continues to ignore my requests and continues to stand transfixed at that same spot.   I thought, well,  we will just play the waiting game.  In the meanwhile,  I noted both my sons, Marcus and Joshua, were tugging at each other:   “Have you finished your juice? ”  “Yes,” came their reply.   Suddenly conscious of their eyes  looking at me questioningly, seeking guidance,  pangs of anxiety assailed me for avoiding the subject with them.  I want to desperately provide the reassurance they sought from me.  If I could reverse the chain of events of these last days, I would.

Determined to cast those thoughts aside and to concentrate on dealing with the practicalities of the present, I thought, I must get all my children dressed for the occasion.   Looking over at the clock on the mantelpiece –  it is 9.45 am.  Time is running out.   Questions raced through my mind.  This is not the time to reflect,  only to act upon what needed doing.    I can no longer ignore Maya’s defiance,  and although she is only five,  she has always acted older than her years.  I will try to appeal  to her understanding and if that does not work, there is always hope that she will soon co-operate, and so I thought.    As I was about to address  Maya again,  Marcus and Joshua who were sat quietly next to each other,  sharply turned their heads towards their sister.  Disturbed by the look on their faces, my heart skipped a beat at seeing  how they are the exact image of their father.

“Maya, please can you go upstairs and put the black dress on.  As I said before, the red dress is not the right thing to wear for this occasion. ”   Choosing to ignore my request,  she continues to stand by the door frame between the living room and the dining room;   her insistence to wear the red dress  is clearly an expression of her wilful defiance, I thought.  She has out rightly  refused to acknowledge my requests or even look at me.   Maya continues to stare blankly into space.  She is always the wilful one , but never defiant in this way,  I thought.  Maya is  no longer listening to me;  it was as if she was elsewhere.  She  remains dignified and poise, and statuesque.  As if she was enwrapped and protected by some ethereal presence.

“Maya,”  I shouted.   Regrettably, I winced at having reprimanded her.   “Please go upstairs right now, and put the black dress on.”   She did not respond.  “Maya.   We are going to your father’s funeral.  Please go upstairs and change right now.”   In the next instance, my anger quickly subsided, and I found myself walking towards her and taking  hold of her left hand to follow my lead.   Without putting up a struggle or having refuted me in any way,  I led her away from her spot to climb the stairs.   On reaching her bedroom,  I lifted her arms up into the air and slid the red dress from over her head to throw it onto the bed.  Retrieving the black dress from the floor, and after placing it carefully over her body, I zipped her up at the back.  I became aware of Maya’s eyes  following my every move, and  her quiet murmurings protesting against my exercising control over the situation.  I felt relieved that her resistance did not escalate to anymore than this.    I turned her around to face me.   On seeing tears rolling down her cheeks, I immediately pulled her down to sit on the bed next to me.  “Maya,  please understand.  This is for your father.   I know you want to wear the red dress, and you can on another day, but not today because we are going to say goodbye to your father.  ” Maya’s tears subsided.  Feeling relieved she finally understood,  I planted a kiss on her forehead, and thought it would be best to leave her alone for a few minutes.  “ Come downstairs when you are ready Maya.”   Leaving the door slightly ajar,  I then entered the boys bedroom to prepare their clothing; and taking their black shoes out of the boxes to place them on the floor.  Calling out loud to them,  “Marcus, Joshua.   Come upstairs, we need to get you both dressed.”  The boys came rushing upstairs,  saw their little black shirts and without much assistance from me, hurriedly pushed their arms through the sleeves before buttoning up.    “Marcus,  can you do up your brother’s shoe-laces for him?”   “Yes Mum.”  “When you are both finish, come downstairs.   There will be a car picking us up soon.”  “Yes, Mum.”

Relieved at getting them all dressed,  I returned to tidy up the living room.  Whilst clearing up the empty glasses from the coffee-table the telephone started ringing.   On the other end of the line, a male voice said,  “The car is waiting outside. ”  I thanked him before hanging up.    Joshua, the first down the stairs is quickly followed by Marcus, and on seeing them,  I thought, how handsome my boys are.    There is still no Maya.  “Maya,” I called out.    No response.  “Maya,”  I repeated.   Feeling frustrated at her behaviour.   I shouted, “Maya, come down this instance.”    It was then that Maya’s footsteps along the floorboards could be heard as she made her way to the top of the stairs.

Maya’s young body stood taut and she exuded defiance in her red dress.  She is rising to the challenge, and it takes courage to resist an order, she is very brave, I thought.  Nevertheless, this is not the occasion.   Her refusal to wear the black dress is now wearing very thin on my patience, and I am on the verge of exploding, “Maya, please take that red dress off now, “ I pleaded.   Maya’s defiance, and her unawareness of the impending effect she was exerting upon me by her stubborn insistence on wearing that red dress, is exacerbating the situation.   I can feel the anger rise up inside of me.  However, unlike before, I managed to control the tone of my voice against her insistence upon wearing the red dress.   Why?  I struggled to  fathom the answers but could not.    Determined to remain calm,  I firmly repeated, “Maya, You cannot wear that red dress.   I want you to take that red dress off now, and  I want you to put that black dress back on.  If you do not do this,  I am going to  come upstairs and change you myself again.  There is a car waiting outside for us, and if you are not in that black dress in 5 minutes.  We will go without you.   Is that understood?”   I walked  away from the stairs, to quickly check the boys over and told them to sit in the living room before proceeding to lock up the conservatory.

I can hear the telephone ringing again,  and Marcus calling out, “Mum, the man is asking how long we will be.“   I quickly rushed over to take the hand phone from Marcus, “Hello, We should be with you in about 5 minutes.”   Putting the phone down, I call aloud,  “Maya.”   Immediately, she came running downstairs, and headed straight for the front door.   Seeing her, I cannot believe she remain resolute in her refusal to take that red dress off.    In an instance, I found myself taking hold of her right arm to lead her back upstairs when she began struggling to wrench  it away from me and  twisting her body around so as to pull on the front door handle.   “Maya, Stop it.”   “No, Mama.   I want to wear this red dress.  Papa gave it to me.   He  liked it.  We are going to see him and I want to wear this dress for Papa.”   In that moment, I could no longer hear her pleadings,  my frustration had taken over as I  lifted her into my arms to carry her upstairs.    There is no respite to her struggle, I thought, and with tears streaming down her cheeks,  she continued pleading, “ Mama, please!”   Dismissing her pleas, “You are going to wear the black dress whether you like it or not.   Today, of all days, you choose to be defiant.  Why Maya?  I have no time for this.”  I hurriedly lowered her to standing position, and clumsily lifted her hands up to slide the red dress off and then pulled her towards me as I sat on the bed, and tightly held her between  my legs.  Hurriedly, I reached for the black dress from the floor to slide it over her body.    Releasing her, I stood up and tilted her face upwards.   Seeing tears rolling down her cheeks, I lowered myself to her level,  “Maya, please understand,  I am doing this for your father. “   Placing a kiss on her forehead,  I  gently clasped her hand to lead her back downstairs.

Thoughts and images of their father , of our lives together, raced through my head .   Seeing through the car left view mirror the tears rolling down Maya’s cheeks as she sat holding onto Joshua’s hand, I became more anxious.   Uncomfortable at what lay ahead, I  look behind to see Marcus gazing out the car window –  his young face is the exact spitting image of his father, I thought.   I  felt fearful at the impact of their loss of a father is going to have upon  all our lives.   The devastation of losing a father and to grow up without him;  they are only two, five, and six years of age.  I am  ill-prepared to provide any explanations and they are just too young to understand.  What am I going to do?    I am just as lost as they are.  I have lost the man I love.