By the time Audrey’s distress had settled enough for her to look at Hallie, the wet driveway had soaked through to her skin, but Hallie still wasn’t moving before Audrey did.
“Is there anything I can do?” she asked Audrey.
Audrey shook her head, looking so ashamed it broke Hallie’s heart. “It’s my fault. And I knew it would happen. I shouldn’t have…”
“Have what?” Hallie prompted softly after a moment.
Audrey’s fingers pressed more quickly into her thumbs again.
“Whatever it is,” Hallie assured her, “I’m not going to blame you or judge you. It’s okay.”
“My mom,” Audrey said, sounding breathless and strangled. “She asked, last night, how work was.”
“Right…” Hallie didn’t understand how that question had gotten them here, but there was plenty she didn’t understand about this family. Her own mom asked her that all the time and it was always fine.
“I should have lied or said nothing. I know she doesn’t… handle it well.”
“Handle what well?”
“Other people… getting things.”
Hallie stared past Audrey and up at the cabin. It was so beautiful on the outside. Decorated, pristine, the picture of holiday perfection. And, inside, it held something ugly. At least this week.
Audrey sucked in a breath, pulling her knees tight against her chest. “For years now, every time I tell my mom about some success I’ve had, something I’ve achieved, she turns it around and makes it about her. Not like she’s taking credit for it. She pretends to be happy for me, she’ll brag to other people about it later, but, just after, it becomes the catalyst of her breaking down, spiraling on where she’s not good enough.”
Hallie swallowed hard, looking at a broken, dishevelled Audrey next to her. “She needs everyone else to stay small so she can feel good about herself?”
“I guess. I don’t know if it’s everyone.”
“But it is you.”
“I suppose.”
Hallie had seldom disliked anyone the way she disliked Michele Sinclair. Weren’t you supposed to want better for your kids? Didn’t you want them to achieve their dreams? Shouldn’t she have been at the front of the line to celebrate Audrey’s successes?
“I told her about a conference I’ve been invited to speak at,” Audrey said, her body language suggesting she could barely even think about the conference now. It had been contaminated by her family. “And, all morning, she’s been like this. Up before everyone else, lamenting to everyone who came in that she’s failing, worthless.”
“She doesn’t even believe that.”
Audrey stared at her. “What?”
“It’s a game. A shit one. But it’s a way to get attention, to have everyone tell her she’s the best. And a way to keep you small, make you feel bad about yourself and build her up by tearing yourself down.”
“She wouldn’t do that, I don’t think…”
Hallie watched as Audrey’s brain seemed to spin out on that. Of course she couldn’t imagine it. Somehow, this family had produced a decent person, a hurt one, a person who still needed to believe her family was doing its best. They’d taught her to blame herself, not them, so they got away with anything they wanted.
“I think she really just struggles with…” Audrey trailed off, scrambling to put it into words.
“With letting you be your own person and being proud of you.”
“I don’t know about that.”
Hallie held a hand out, offering it to Audrey. She wouldn’t force Audrey to touch her. She needed to know her choices mattered and could be respected.
Quicker than she’d expected, Audrey placed her own hand into it. She felt tense, but Hallie had expected that.
“I know,” she told Audrey carefully, “that this feels impossible for your brain to accept right now because it’s been trained by these people not to question them, to need their love, but your mom knows what she’s doing, and she knows it hurts you. She might not admit it to herself, but she was playing that crowd like an expert. Sheknowswhat she’s doing. And why? Because something good happened to you at work? Audrey, that’s not what families are supposed to be like.”
