Turning to her, I ask, “Were you expecting someone?”
As I suspected, she shakes her head no.
“Just a minute,” I call from the living room, getting up and going to the window. Peering through the side curtain, I see a familiar dark grey SUV.
“The hell is he doing here?” I gripe, moving away from the window.
The knocking sounds again, only this time it’s louder. The only reason I opt to head to the front door is because of the frightened look in my mother’s eyes. Again, the reversal of roles becomes evident when she looks to me with a question in her gaze—as if I’m to tell her what’s happening and what’s going on. It reminds me of all those times as a child when I’d see my father get overly aggressive, either verbally or physically, and I’d look to my mother for reassurance.
When he left, she would tell me everything was okay, but I always spotted the look of fear in her eyes.
“I got it,” I say, not bothering to tell her who’s at the door. “You continue soaking your feet.”
I head down the entranceway and finally pull the door open to come face-to-face with my Uncle Will.
His smile is slow and almost devious.
“You’re home.” He steps fully inside, not bothering to wait for an invitation to do so probably because he’s aware that I wasn’t about to give one. “I thought perhaps you were out or something.”
Folding my arms across my chest, I glare at him. “Where would I be? It’s a Saturday. It’s not like I have work today.”
He takes a minute to look me over. “Just ensuring you’re not taking the weekend as an opportunity to reunite with old friends.”
An image of Mark comes to mind, and my stomach fills with heated anger. My instinct now, as it had been sixteen years ago, is to protect him. My father’s vengeance knows no bounds, and I won’t drag a man who’s been hurt enough into my family drama.
“What old friends? Any friends I had are either grown and moved away or have lives of their own. They probably wouldn’t even remember me,” I lie.
The truth is, I didn’t have very many friends in high school. I kept most people at arm's length because I didn’t want them to see what was happening at home. Only one person got closer than anyone else. And it cost him too much.
“Is Marietta here? I want to check in on my sister-in-law.”
I glare at his back as he proceeds down the hall, searching for my mother as if he owns this house. Closing the door, I follow behind him, feeling the need to protect my mother somehow. Not that I think he’d do anything physically to her, but she’s so fragile these days.
“Marietta, look at you,” he declares as we enter the living room. “Soaking your feet?”
“I’m giving her a pedicure,” I explain, rushing ahead of him to semi stand in between him and my mother.
Again, he glances over at me. “That’s good. Spending some quality time with your mother. I suspect she missed a lot of that when you were out being a wild child,” he accuses.
Staring him directly in the eye, I lift my chin in defiance, even though I don’t say anything. Growing up with the parents I did, I learned not to talk back, especially to a man, and simply obey. However, living with my aunt for a few years and then on my own as a professional woman, I’ve learned to speak up and become more of an advocate for myself.
Unfortunately, I can’t do it to my full capacity with my uncle yet. He still holds the cards in this game since my father turned them over to him. But, I silently glare at him in the eyes and, without words, show him that he doesn’t intimidate me, not the way my father did my mother.
“I’m sure you’ll enjoy that, Marietta. It’s been a while since you’ve had your nails done, it looks like. Glad to see Jackie’s taking care of you.”
“She is,” my mother says, giving me a genuine smile.
I give her one back.
“Well, Elaine wanted me to stop over and ask you ladies what your plans are for Thanksgiving this year?”
A lie.
My Aunt Elaine is just as much controlled by my uncle as my mother was by my father. Any visit he’s making is at his own desire.
“We have plans,” I insist, causing him to turn away from my mother to look at me.
“What would those be?”
