“I…I mean…I didn’t…” Finding words, any at all, is a struggle.
I didn’t want to!I long to yell.I hate it there!
Just when I think things are at the peak of horribleness, the bell rings and in walk my mom and Marge.
“Oh good, Beth. We wanted to catch you before you left.” Marge smiles sweetly at me, unaware of the storm they just stepped into. “Can you stay for lunch?”
My mom stands a few inches taller than her wife, and her eyes meet mine over Marge’s head. I see the moment she realizes something isn’t right. The carefully cultivated happiness I know she works so hard to maintain blinks out, overshadowed by worry.
“Beth?”
No. No no no. Everything is fine. Everything is good. Please don’t worry. Please don’t be sad.
These are the reassurances I want to babble out. But right now, with Darla, Sally, and Sam staring at me, the words feel like lies.
I’m so tired of lying.
So what if you’re tired? Mom has been tired for decades, and she deserves a break.
“I’m sorry.” My eyes flick between the five women. My family. The ones I love most in the world.
The ones I still manage to hurt even when I try hard not to.
“I can’t stay.” I grab my purse and hurry toward the rear exit through the kitchen. “I’m sorry.”
I’m halfway to my car, fingers trembling on my keys, when I hear pounding footsteps behind me.
“You can’t run away from me, Beth!”
Darla. Of course, it’s Darla.
“I had to get another job!” I shout without facing her. “Ihadto.”
And why does it sound like I’m trying to convince myself?
But I did need to. I know that. I need to pay Shawn back even if he cuts off contact with me.
And I need to do it myself, because if Mom finds out I took BBN money to pay for our bills…I don’t even know what that will do to her. Her body and mind have already been through so much.
My key scrapes the paint of my already ratty-looking car as I try to unlock it and hide from my best friend.
But she’s faster than me, a hand flying in front of me to slap the keys from my shaking fingers.
“Please,” I beg, not sure I can take her wrath in this moment. Not after last night. My self-worth is already in the dirt along with my keys. “Please leave it alone.”
“Look at me.”
Shoulders bunched by my ears, I slowly turn to face her, even as I keep my eyes low.
Of course, that’s not good enough.
“Look at me!” she demands.
Biting my lip, I raise my head and find Darla glaring an arsenal of daggers at me. I flinch when she jerks forward.
Belatedly, I realize her arms are around me not in an attack, but in an uncomfortably tight hug.
Is this affection? Is this a threat?
