"I've spent my entire life trying to have you love me, for me,for who I am, but you never did." I shake my head, my voice breaking."You only love yourself."
"How can you say that?" Her tone is hurt and cross at the same time.
"It's true!" My arms fling out frantically. "You'd sell my soul to the devil for status; you literally did. You didn't care even when I told you that Richard wasn't always treating me well. Made me believe it's normal or that it's all my fault. Now you parade in here giving me lectures when you don't even know anything! He called me scraps, Mother!"
She winces and shakes her head, like she can't believe that.
"Yes,scraps!"I scream. "And you want me to crawl back to him?!"
My rage spills down my cheeks, but I turn away and wipe my face before she sees it.
"If you want to know the truth, I didn't end up in therapy because I was broken, but because you drove me there!" I bite out.
When I'm done, her face is blank and ghost-white. One hand grips the counter, the other presses so hard to her chest she might crack it open.
I don't think she even sees me because she's gone somewhere past me, somewhere far, where her thoughts went to die.
Ben steps beside me, his voice suddenly concerned. "Bring her water. Now. Or she might pass out."
"No," she snaps out of it and sucks in air, her throat bobbing. Then she does that little tilt of her head, thatnarrowed-eyed glare at Ben. "You both are shameful."
My face goes flat-dead. I yank the key from her hand and slip it into my pocket. "And you're not welcome. Get out."
She blinks, caught off guard. Her voice comes out horrified. "This is unacceptable!"
"I said, get out!" I yell, my hand slicing toward the door. "Now!"
She freezes, her expression shocked and outraged. Then, clinging to her dignity, she casts one last evil glance at both Ben and storms out the door.
I watch her silhouette from behind—green tweed, mahogany hair around her small head, and then—
Smack. I slam the door behind her.
I slide down the door until I'm sitting on the floor, head buried between my knees, trying to breathe myself back into calm.
Ben's beside me before I even register he's moved, kneeling close. His voice is laced with worry."Emma, you're shaking. You've got red marks all over your neck. Breathe, baby. Deep breath."
"Iambreathing," I gasp, but it's shallow, not enough to fill the empty space.
"Here, follow my rhythm," Ben says and takes my hands to put them on his chest, trying to guide me. His face is gentle and hard at the same time.
I manage a broken smile. "Thank you."
He nods, cups the back of my head, and presses an anchoring kiss to my forehead. "It's okay. You two had to fightat some point. Maybe it will clear the air."
He's saying it only to make me feel better.
I shake my head. She might still be there, listening, knowing how she got under my skin one last time, but this door won't open for her again.
Today is the day I finally understand that I'd rather have no mother at all.
42
If you thought this could end in any good way, you were foolish. Like me.
And sure, hate on me all you want, but I'm trying, really trying. But there are things I can't do anything about. Especially when Lisa constantly changes her plans, and therefore Ben's plans, and therefore our plans.
A well-timed phone call or one text, and Ben's gone, coat half on, heart somewhere I can't reach.
