I was in no mood for her judgmental, surly attitude. "Do you remember Paxton Ross?"
Dad, still standing in the doorway between the hall and kitchen, cleared his throat and turned away.
I almost called out for him to stay but decided that could wait. Mom had been itching for a fight for the past few years and I'd held back because it just hadn't been worth it at the time.
But now? I have someone to fight for.
She flicked a speck of lint from her pastel purple suit jacket. "That little derelict who dared to—"
"Shut the fuck up and listen to me." I pointed in her direction. Her eyes widened while her mouth dropped open. "Hisnameis Paxton. You and Dad ruined his life, you know, by your petty bullshit."
"Are you insane? We gave him everything. A place to live, food to eat, an elite lifestyle. He threw it back in our faces because he falsely assumed he was in love. With you. As if." Her laugh, high and dismissive, grated under my skin. "He was an ungrateful piece of trash who turned out just like his father—a failure. A drug addict chasing an impossible dream. A deadbeat. Literally."
"And you..." For two seconds, I closed my eyes and searched for an inner calm. I would get nowhere fast if I became emotional. "You and Dad had a responsibility to shelter and comfort him. Instead, you blackmailed a teenage boy because you were worried how it would look if people found out he and I were together." I shook my head. "Guess what? No one cares. We were two sixteen-year-old kids who'd been abandoned and alone—"
"What are you talking about?" She glanced at her watch. "You weren't abandoned or by yourself. You had your sister, Moira—"
"But I never had caring parents. Not really. I had a facade of a family with a mom and dad who were more concerned with how things looked on the outside than how things truly were on the inside. I had a mother who never loved me, but she enjoyed belittling me and making me feel bad about myself."
"Inever—"
"Shut up." I narrowed my gaze on her scrawny, shrunken form. "I'm tired of your manipulations, your constant disapproval. I'm a grown woman and I will no longer put up with it. It always felt like Dad just tolerated me. But you? You could barely stand to look at me."
Something flickered in her gaze and she tilted her head. "What you're saying is dreadful. You make it sound like I was a wicked witch."
I raised my eyebrows and met her stare head-on, biting my tongue.
"Your father and I wanted the best for you. That's the only reason we were so tough."
"Oh?" I laughed. "I guess that's why he stole all that money and why you went from a two-million-dollar home to a dump like this." I spread out a hand toward the dingy kitchen. "And a little birdie told me he's in trouble again."
"You shut your mouth." She slammed several wax melt containers into a bag and gripped the neck of the plastic sack. "He may go to prison this time."
I glanced toward the hallway. He'd disappeared. "Good. He should've gone the last time."
"How can you say that, you stupid, ungrateful, fat bitch?" Her upper lip curled and her irises flashed with anger.
"How can you stand there and degrade your child? How can you stand by his corrupt side? How can you live withyourself?"
"I—"
Holding up a palm, I shook my head. "We're finished. Perfection isn't physical—it's impossible. You know what makes someone truly beautiful, Mom?"
Her face, flushed and shining, pinched even tighter as she twisted the bag even tighter.
"Imperfectionand how a person deals with it."
"You..." She drew in a deep breath and closed her eyelids for a moment. "You are out of your head."
"No.Youare. You always wanted the perfect fairytale family. You wanted it so badly you abused your children to try to attain that ridiculous dream. You weren't the princess, Mom. Y ou've been the evil stepmother, the troll under the bridge, the wicked queen, the hideous monster living in the closet, the demon feasting on other people's pain."
"Get out!" Her entire body shook with rage or agitation.
"Gladly. But before I do"—I yanked a card from my purse and threw it on the table—"You might wanna brush up on prison life because knowingly aiding in tax schemes is against the law. But hey—at least you'll have a free workout room since you've always been so obsessed with bodies and how they look."
The sound of movement caught my attention and I turned to see Dad standing in the hallway, a condescending look turning his aging face into something sour. "Terri, you apologize to your mother right this—"
"Andyou." I stalked to him and pushed the tip of my finger into his chest. "You're just as bad as she is. Not only are you a crook, which is horrible enough, but you heartlessly sent Paxton away under the threat of throwing him back onto the street if he didn't cooperate. What kind of person does that? Especially when they'd offered to help their dead friend's son but then used it as an excuse to cover up their crimes?"
