Author's Note
A few of the actions, sayings, and thoughts during the part where Sour Sweet is initially being “hit hard” were inspired by a real-life person who was featured in a documentary on schizophrenia that was shown in one of my college psychology classes.
As always, when Sour Sweet’s dialogue is presented in italics she’s sweet, in bold she’s sour, and in plain type she’s normal.
Sour Sweet Motherhood
Recently, Sunny Flare’s family had welcomed a new addition as her cousin gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. Sunny made sure to take lots and lots of pictures at the hospital. Pictures that she just HAD to show Sour Sweet during a Sunday afternoon visit to her mansion. A butler brought in a platter of finger sandwiches as Sunny prattled off and swiped excitedly on her phone.
“Oh, and just look at this one! Isn’t that just the cutest face? Aww, here’s the baby in Gram Gram’s arms! Couldn’t you just die from the adorableness, Sour Sweet?”
“Oh, I think I could survive. Up until the diaper needs changing, then I’d die from the fumes.”
“Come on, doesn’t looking at pictures such as these make your maternal instincts just scream with envy?” Sunny Flare joked.
“Sunny Flare, haven’t you learned anything from living in the age of third-wave feminism? Women aren’t just baby making machines!”
“So sorry for being old fashioned, Miss Radical,” Sunny Flare sarcastically replied, rolling her eyes. “But seriously, haven’t you ever considered having children one day?”
“Of course I have.”
“And?”
“And I can’t have children,” Sour Sweet stated as she took a nonchalant bite out of a finger sandwich.
Sunny Flare’s eyes widened with concern. “Sour Sweet, what do you mean that you can’t have children?”
“Don’t play dumb. You know EXACTLY why I can’t.”
“Sour, haven’t you realized that you’ve been getting better lately? Everyone else can see it. Gilda has even begun to back off since she’s been losing so much ammunition against you.”
“I do believe that you’re forgetting what happened during my babysitting days. You heard me screaming over the phone at that poor boy!” Sour Sweet’s head lowered. “You didn’t hear the things his parents yelled at me after I had to admit to them about my condition, Sunny. They were things Gilda wish she could think up.”
Sunny Flare took Sour Sweet’s hands. “No matter what anyone says about you, I know you are a great person and would make a wonderful mother if you decided to be one.”
“But what if Child Protective Services deem me mentally unfit and take my children away?”
Sunny Flare gave her a determined smirk. “If that happens, you’ll have the help of good friends to rain hell upon them until you get your children back.”
“Doctor Chrysalis said that there’s a ten percent chance I can genetically pass my condition onto my children.”
“Sour, if there’s a ten percent chance of them having schizophrenia, then there’s a ninety percent chance of them not having schizophrenia.”
“I know basic math!”
“Besides, even if your children do get your condition, they’ll have a mother who knows exactly how to help them through it.”
“What if my symptoms cause me to harm my children in some way?”
“Your boyfriend helps your mind focus. Don’t you think your own children would too?”
Sour Sweet shook her head. “I just don’t think I can do it, anyway. I can’t see myself being a good mother… mental condition or no mental condition.” She sighed. “I wish I could be as positive as you, Sunny.”
Sunny Flare pulled Sour Sweet into a tight hug. “I hope you work out these anxieties of yours one day, dearie.”
Later, Sour Sweet left Sunny Flare’s mansion utterly depressed. She was so down that she forgot that she had taken the last lithium pill in her bottle that morning. She walked right past the street which led to the downtown pharmacy where she was supposed to stop by before coming home.
****************
Sour Sweet was awoken from her peaceful slumber by her alarm clock. She sat up, yawned, and stretched out her arms while making sure to extend her middle fingers to let the Monday morning know exactly how she felt about it. From there, she went about her daily routine of showering, dressing into her Crystal Prep uniform, eating breakfast, and brushing her teeth. She was about to grab her pill bottle, when she noticed the emptiness.
Sour Sweet groaned and slapped her forehead. “Dammit! I was supposed to get more yesterday!”
Right then, three options entered her mind:
Option one, she could go to Crystal Prep without medication and go get more in the afternoon. The problem with that was that her unrestrained symptoms would embarrass her all day, promptly giving more ammunition for Gilda’s taunting.
Option two, she could travel downtown to the pharmacy before going to Crystal Prep herself or possibly phone her boyfriend or her friends to go and retrieve her medication for her. The problem with that was that an out-of-the-way trip this close to the first bell would guarantee tardiness for all. Tardiness, of course, being something Principle Cinch did not tolerate and brought the hammer down severely for, regardless of reason.
Option three, she could call her parents ( who leave for work earlier than she wakes up ) at their office to pick up her medication and bring it to her during their lunch break.
Option three was the best. She called her mother's cellphone to tell her about her situation. Next, she called her boyfriend to let him know why she wouldn’t be coming to school, information which he could then pass on to Sunny, Indigo, Sugarcoat, and Lemon. Today would have to be a sick day. Sour Sweet shivered as she could almost hear Gilda shouting, “More like a mentally sick day! HA!”
After changing out of her uniform into something more causal, she went into the living room and plopped down onto the couch. She turned on the TV and flipped until she settled on a retro channel which played only old reruns. Her mom’s lunch break wouldn’t come for a while. All she could do is keep calm and wait.
Within two hours, Sour Sweet was getting hit hard physically, mentally, and verbally. Her right hand kept being compelled to reach up to play with her hair and her mind began to tell her that a certain 1960s sitcom about World War II was a factual documentary, making her babble about it.
“Why the heck haven’t we learned about this Colonel Hogan in any of our history classes? He practically beat the Nazis by himself with his unorthodox tactics! Government cover-up, it must be. Shifty President probably reading my mind right now. Yeah, that’s right! I’m on to you AND the man who shot Liberty Valance!” Her eyes wandered to a decorative painting of flowers on the wall and she could tell that the petals were getting headaches. “Why don’t I hear the dishwasher running? Cowardly, that’s what it is…”
“Mama, who are you talking too?”
Sour Sweet turned her head. Right next to her sitting cross-legged was a pint-sized mirror of herself, appearing to be about four years old. She was looking up at Sour Sweet with a smile of pure warmth and innocence.
Sour Sweet winced and rubbed her temples. “No one, Bitter Honey. Mama’s just having a hard time thinking clearly.”
“Oh, is that why you didn’t go to work today?” Bitter Honey asked.
Sour Sweet perked up and smiled at her. “Yeah, baby, but it’s okay. Now I get to spend all day playing with you!”
Sour Sweet’s hands shot under the little girl’s arms. She got up off the couch, lifting Bitter Honey up into the air and started to spin her around. To Sour Sweet’s ears, the whole house was filled with the heart-warming sound of the laughter of a child.
“I’m a plane! I’m a plane!”
“Oh, yes you are!” Sour Sweet laughed as she pulled her in close for an Eskimo kiss. “The cutest, little plane in the clouds!”
Sour Sweet sat back down with Bitter Honey in her lap. She picked up the remote and flipped away from Hogan's Heroes until she found one of the kid’s channels for Bitter Honey to enjoy. What was on was a cartoon sporting an interactive format. They were just in time to be asked to dance and sing along with the characters.
“Ooh, mama! Let’s sing and dance with them!”
Frowning at the idea of obeying the asinine demands of a cartoon, she got up with Bitter Honey and began to follow the instructions. The song and dance were cringingly stupid from an older point of view, but Bitter Honey was having the time of her life, so Sour Sweet forced herself to endure. She was just glad no one else was around to see her.
After several more songs and dances, Sour Sweet was exhausted. She was grateful when the cartoon finally ended.
“That show was fun! Hey, mama, let’s play with the doll castle now!”
Sour Sweet titled her head. “Doll castle? What doll castle?”
Bitter Honey giggled. “Mama, you’re so silly. The one in your room, remember?”
Bitter Honey took a puzzled Sour Sweet by the hand and led her to her room. Sure enough, there was a tall, plastic toy castle surrounded by various dolls in the middle of the floor. Sour Sweet couldn’t recall ever having something like that in her room. Bitter Honey ran over to it and grabbed one of the dolls.
“Look, I’m the princess of this kingdom!” Bitter Honey declared, putting the doll up on one of the high ledges of the castle.
“And what a lovely princess you are!”
“Yeah, I have wings and a unicorn horn and I raise the sun every morning! If I had a sister, she could raise the moon every night! Mama, can I have a sister?”
Sour Sweet chuckled. “I’m sure I can convince your daddy later tonight…”
“Yay!”
Sour Sweet took hold of one of the other dolls and began marching it toward the castle. “Uh-oh! Watch out for the tyrannical Gilda the Hun coming for your kingdom!”
“Uh-oh! Send out the guards! Wait, wait! No! You know what? I don’t need the guards! I can fight Gilda off all by myself!” Bitter Honey began to punch Sour Sweet’s arm with all of her might ( which really wasn’t much ). “Come on, mama. Fight me!”
“Ouch! Ooh!” Sour Sweet playfully feigned. “You’re just too strong for me! Hey, you know what? When you get older, we’ll sign you up for self-defense classes. I bet Auntie Indigo would love to teach you a move or two as well.”
“I love Aunties Indigo, Sunny, Sugarcoat, and Lemon!”
Sour Sweet pulled Honey Bitter into a hug. “And they love you! How could anyone not?”
Time flew with more playing around with the dolls until Bitter Honey suddenly declared that she wanted to draw. Sour Sweet went and found some copy paper from her parents’ home office. From her closet, she dusted off an old pack of crayons from her own childhood.
“Mama, draw with me!” Bitter Honey pleaded as Sour Sweet presented her with the paper and crayons.
“Oh, mama can’t draw as good as you, baby.”
“Come on! Try it! It’s fun!”
“Alright, alright. How about I draw a beautiful portrait of you?”
She wasn’t lying when she said that she didn’t have great artistic skills. Trying her best, she took the crayons and attempted to capture Bitter Honey’s likeness. After finishing, she inspected her work. It was indeed very crude, but she could still see her daughter in it. That was good enough for her.
“Look, mama!” Bitter Honey cheered, holding up her work. “I drew you, daddy, and me!”
Sour Sweet admired the picture and smiled. Sure, it was basically just two big stick figures and one small stick figure, but it was the most superb masterpiece ever produced if only because the joy of her life was the artist. Picasso could suck it.
Just then, Sour Sweet heard the faint sound of the front door opening downstairs.
“Sour! I got your medication!”
Sour Sweet sighed in relief and jumped up. “Wait right here, Bitter Honey. Mama will be right back.”
“Don’t be gone too long, mama!” Bitter Honey laughed. “I love you!”
Sour Sweet bent down and gave Bitter Honey a kiss on the forehead. “Mama loves you.”
Mrs. Sweet waited at the front door until her daughter came practically skipping down the stairs as if she were Pinkie Pie.
“Sour, don’t forget to pick up your medication next time,” Mrs. Sweet scolded.
“Oh, I won’t!” Sour Sweet said, taking the bag containing the pill bottle. “And I must say that you are looking absolutely fantastic today! A real hot grandma!”
Mrs. Sweet frowned. “Hot grandma, huh?” She then shook it off and gave her daughter an understanding smile. “Alright, just take your medication right away and I’ll see you later tonight.”
They hugged and Mrs. Sweet left to go back to work. Sour Sweet went into the kitchen to fetch a glass of juice to down the medication with. She popped a lithium pill.
“Bitter Honey, mama’s back!” she announced when she returned to her room.
There was no response. Bitter Honey was nowhere to be seen.
“Bitter Honey? Bitter! Where are you hiding, girl?”
She looked all over the room, her nerves heightening every passing second. Finding no sign of her, she ran out to search the entire house. Screaming Bitter Honey’s name, she checked the backyard, then the front.
“BITTER HONEY!!! WHERE IS SHE!?! WHERE IS MY BABY!?!?!?!”
Sour Sweet ran to the living room’s phone and stabbed three numbers down.
“911, what is your emergency?”
“HELP, MY BABY IS – ”
Sour Sweet halted as the truth dawned on her.
“Hello, ma’am? What about your baby?”
“S-sorry. False alarm…”
Sour Sweet hung up. She felt like she was going to vomit, but managed to hold it down.
She slowly walked up the stairs. Entering her room, she noticed that the doll castle was gone. Looking down at the floor, Bitter Honey’s stick figure family portrait was nowhere to be seen. However, the Bitter Honey portrait was still there. Sour Sweet really did draw it. She picked up the piece of paper, sighed, and clutched it tight to her chest.
Once again, three options entered her mind:
Option one, she could drop down onto her bed right then to cry her eyes out and wallow in self-pity. The problem with that was that it wouldn’t do any good.
Option two, she could bottle up her misery and never speak of hallucinating about playing with a daughter who didn’t exist for the rest of her life. The problem with that was that it would certainly be a detriment to her health.
Option three, she could try to find something positive to take out of a sad situation just as Sunny Flare always seemed to do.
Sour Sweet suddenly smiled. Option three was the best, yet again. As she thought back, she realized that she was happy and that she had made her “daughter” happy. Despite it being just a hallucination, she felt like she had proved to herself that she could be a good mother.
Her cellphone then buzzed in her pocket. It was her boyfriend.
“Hey… Yeah, I’m fine… Lunch time, huh? What are they serving?... Sounds good. Hey, um, can I ask you a serious question?... Have you ever thought about what it would be like to have kids?...”
Who knew? Perhaps someday, mama and Bitter Honey would get to play together once again in real life.
THE END
