Fourth Excerpt from Fiction Novel: ELLORY

Ellen Effy Su. August 6, 2025.

A Memory from July 2024

“Granny, I gave you twenty years of chances to fix this. You abused my mother, and you did the same to me. I know I’m not your favorite grandchild of your daughter, but I am the only living one,” Ellory’s voice lowered as she stared into her grandmother’s obsidian, narrow eyes. 

“Don’t do that. Don’t blame me for everything wrong in your life. I never hit your mother. It doesn’t count as abuse. My childhood was physically abusive. My parents only had me, so I could be free labor and take care of my two younger brothers and sister,” Alina retorted.

“You used my mother as free labor, too. You mirrored your mother every day of your hollow life. You were unsupportive, disdainful, and you never appreciated my mom for who she was. You liked how docile she was, how eager she was to help you, trailing after you like a lost puppy, after you told her daughters are not equal to a son.”

Ellory’s thin eyebrows pinched her oval face in anger. 

“You’re right. I treated my son like the prince he was, and your mother never complained about being third-tier in this household. She got with the program, something you were unable to do. I didn’t raise you. I didn’t abuse you. I don’t know why you’re angry about the life you didn’t experience,” Alina sounded confused. 

Of course, she wouldn’t understand. A mother who willingly sacrifices one child’s happiness for another child is incapable of giving love without expectations. 

“Grandmother, when you starved my mother on purpose to feed your son first, when you paid for my uncle’s college and medical school but my mother had to rely on scholarships and private loans, when you showed affection to your son but not my mother, when you cut the bigger slice of cake for my uncle and forgot my mother’s birthday year after year, you hurt me in my past lifetime. I don’t have to relive it to dislike the woman you are. I do not have to go back in time to experience the trauma my mother endured because I saw it firsthand the day I visited your grand home in Kuala Lumpur. You told me you wish I hadn’t been born. My mother disregarded your wishes for an abortion. My father was a divorcée with a nine-year-old daughter at the time, someone you viewed as a commoner. This would never be my home, and I should not get too accustomed to staying here. I was six years old, excited to live with you for the first time in my life, and you reminded me every second how I was an unwanted child. That summer changed me. You want to know how I became so cynical about life? I learned from the best. All you do is drink and say how your children are failures. My mother tried to be a good parent. She never gave up on me. You did not try. We are your last redemption ark,” Ellory did not raise her voice. 

There was no point in reaffirming her grandmother’s close-minded opinions. Alina believed her son was the center of the universe, and her daughter was a spare, available to brew tea, cook an omelette, and clean up their messes, however chaotic they were. 

“I changed the wallpaper in your room to equestrian toile in blue. I know you used to love riding horses, and your favorite color is ultramarine. I’ve really missed you. None of my other grandchildren speaks Mandarin as fluently as you. I saw part of myself in you. You were like a skewed mirror of me. I think it’s why I took out my frustrations on you. Out of all the children, you are most like me. I thought you would forgive me because I loved you in my own way. I never compared you to Sfera. Sfera was never mine. She was your father’s first daughter from that failed marriage. Yes, I felt sad learning of her death. I disapproved of your father, but I liked you. You were always wise beyond your years,” Alina reached out her wrinkled left hand to touch Ellory’s straight, glossy chestnut-colored hair. 

“I know you had a troubled upbringing, but you didn’t try to mend our relationship or comfort my mother when we lost Sfera. You acted like it didn’t matter because she wasn’t your granddaughter. Sfera was my sister. I loved her. She was good to me, and her legacy triumphs this gigantic house none of us want to come to. My mother deserved better. I deserved better. Sfera deserved to feel included and accepted by you. We all yearned for you to love us the way you loved your son. You showed us you were capable of affection. I wanted to impress you, to earn your love, but I cannot keep giving effort to someone who obviously doesn’t care about us,” Ellory maintained her stance. 

Ellory knew Alina’s bribes were inefficient. She knew Alina could not change her opinions, not at seventy-eight years of life. Not all older people are wiser. 

“Ellory, what can I do for you today? I can’t change the fact that I was an incompetent mother. I can’t change the fact that I was not there to help resolve the aftermath of your sister’s tragic death. I’m not the one who pushed her to her death. You cannot put that blame on me. I have made many mistakes, but you cannot believe I never loved you. You were my jewel. You look like my dead sister, may she rest in peace. I did care about you. I just did not know how to express that concern. I am sorry. I f-cked up. I came to New York to reconnect with only you. Your cousins don’t know I’m here,” Alina babbled. 

“Gran, I once viewed you as a successful woman I wanted to become. I learned how callous you were to my mother, and I know now, true power is used to uplift others, not tear at their insecurities. We were scared of you. We feared you. That’s not love. I know those words are hard, coming from you. I accept your apology, but our reconciliation is off the charts. Time has been kind to both of us. I miss Sfera and Jessie– our sisters in the sky. I wish you were here when I needed you,” Ellory declared with defeat. 

“Ella, you’ll forgive me someday. And I will be there to pick up your call. Family is everything. You can’t find another grandmother. I’m the only one who’s alive. I still have another twenty years before I end up in a box. We have more shopping and museum trips ahead of us,” Alina rolled her eyes before drinking the last of her black tea. 

“Granny, I’ll accompany you to the airport. I booked you a first-class ticket on Cathay Pacific. You’ll be home in Shanghai in twenty hours. Here is a package of assorted mochi and a matcha cake from K.Minamoto, Kyoto matcha, and four containers of Nordic Naturals ProOmega multivitamins. I know what you like. Have a safe flight home. Text me when you’re there,” Ellory compliantly smiled and shook her grandmother’s right hand. 

Ellory opened the door for her grandmother to step out of the café first. Certain gestures were ingrained in her to serve others before herself. 

The air was surprisingly humid and hot. It was July in Manhattan, so why did it feel bittersweet in the silent car ride to JFK? Ellory wanted to forgive, but she also saw how other grandmothers affectionately kissed their granddaughters’ cheeks and wiped their tears instead of shouting, “I’ll give you something to cry about.” 

At twenty years of age, Ellory knew how to communicate well with children. There is a right way to talk to others to create a welcoming, safe environment. Why didn’t Alina learn in the several decades she had already experienced? Why did it take tragedy to reconvene this fractured family?

Ellory contemplated her goals and detailed her feelings in a red leather-bound notebook. It was an ordeal to sit in the car from Queens back into Manhattan. She didn’t want to send off her grandma alone, so she accepted the annoyance of losing an afternoon for the convenience of Alina. 
Anger dissipates in time. Emotions subside. Tempers cool down. Grief transforms people for better or for worse. 

Sfera’s death affected Ellory’s father the most. 

He walked around, buried by parental guilt, and dealt with his feelings by picking up a bottle. He changed as a person and was mostly absent from Ellory’s childhood. Ellory missed who her dad once was. It was like grieving the loss of someone who is still alive. Ellory concealed her father’s alcoholism. She joked that the refrigerated wine wall in their home was pure decoration. The lies people tell to protect the people they love either eat away at someone’s soul or become almost-truths.