Facets Of The Manchurian
Joannie came back different. Mom always said that, when she wasn’t around obviously. Mom musta thought we were to young to know what was going on or to understand what she was talking about. But it was Joannie.
Mom always lacked for subtly. She thought she was being coy, or playing nice, with her church smile and Sunday best, or bringing a casserole over in tough times, but the neighbors knew it was to pry. Joannie knew mom was talking about her too.
She, Joannie that is, just didn’t care. That’s what mom never understood. Joannie was beyond her control when she came back. She’d seen the wider world, a chance beyond the grasping fingers of our family to do something and she was all for it. It wasn’t going to be an easy transition, nor cheap. She knew she’d have to scrimp and save, but the opportunity would come to leave and Joannie would.
Problem is, she didn’t count on mom playing so desperate to keep her here. Joannie didn’t know what she was asking the rest of us to take on. Sammie begrudges her. Hates her in fact. Davie was too young to ever know any different.
And I, I understand it. I would have taken the chance had I known. Who’s to say we wouldn’t have entered that compound regardless of whether Joannie left.
Today’s art is courtesy of Koyori N from Toronto, Canada.