“You know what you did.” She slams the baking sheet onto the island.
“By bringing up Dierdre? Wait, excuse me. I wasn’t even the one to bring her name up first. Which, I’m ashamed to say I didn’t.”
“Ashamed? What you should be ashamed of is continuing to bring her name up even after the conversation had moved on. And that’s on top of what you already did.”
“I won’t be embarrassed by my sister. What do you mean, on top of what I already did?”
She looks at me as if I’ve just spit in the biscuits sitting on the counter. “Bringing that man to this house.”
I rear back, shocked at the venom in her voice. “That man? You mean Neil?”
“What other man would I be talking about?” she says in a lowered voice, possibly hoping that her tone wouldn’t carry out to the guests on the other side of the table.
“You’ve had something negative spewing in your mind ever since that day you stopped by my apartment to find him there, haven’t you? Let it out. Say what you need to say.”
She shakes her head. “For the life of me, I don’t know why my children worked so hard to defy me. All I’ve ever tried to do was give you and your sister the best life possible. She had to go out and start drinking and doing drugs just to spite me. Andyou …”She points her finger at me, accusingly. “It’s not enough for you to see your father and I suffering after her death. You go and get involved with a man you know has a history of drinking and drugging himself.”
I inhale sharply, horrified that she would bring up Neil’s past in such an ugly fashion.
“He hasn’t done that stuff in years.”
“I bet that’s what he tells you. Your sister was good at lying, too. Yeah, he runs that rehab, but I bet it’s all a front. Nothing more than a way for him to keep in contact with his suppliers or whatever he uses to get his drugs.”
“Mom, that sounds ridiculous. Where are you getting all of this from?”
“I may play the stay-at-home mom to you, but I know what types of façades people hide behind. He’s hiding something,” she accuses.
I shake my head. “You’re making stuff up because you can’t deal with your feelings.”
“What feelings?”
“Your own guilt,” I shout.
“I have nothing to be guilty about.”
“Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Maybe one day you’ll believe it.”
“I did the best I could by you girls.”
“Yeah, and your best ran Deirdre right into her grave!”
My mother’s eyes widen in horror, but it doesn’t stop me from saying what I’ve been feeling for years now.
“All your pushing and criticizing, day after day, year after year. No wonder she turned to drugs and alcohol. Who wouldn’t want to with your constant voice in their head, reminding us of how we’re not good enough?”
My chest moves up and down rapidly as my breathing quickens. I’ve felt this for so long. For years I felt almost numb to my mother’s constant small jabs and critiques on how we looked, sat, ate, performed at school. Nothing seemed good enough for her standards.
“So you bring home a junkie just to make your point, huh?”
I gasp and ready myself to give her a tongue lashing, but a firm hand wraps around my arm.
“Desiree, don’t,” Neil’s voice pierces the veil of my anger.
I look over my shoulder with hot, angry tears in my eyes. Our eyes connect, and I see his staring back at me, calmly but firmly telling me not to continue down this path.
“I think it’s time for us to leave,” he says, still staring at me.
Slowly, he moves his gaze to my mother, behind the kitchen island. “Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Jackson. Let’s go, Desi.”
