Not that it was going to last. If my disappearing act at the lunch tables hadn’t put a wrench in our unlikely pairing, Keith’s inevitable transfer back into the other chemistry class certainly would. I mean, what were the chances of Mr. Friend’s doctor’s note holding up in a court of law? Odds were, by tomorrow morning Keith would be returned to his rightful home, and, in true Samantha fashion, my good fortune would have only lasted a class period – even less if you counted Keith’s late start… and the nap.
As the school day drew to a close, all thoughts of Keith and chemistry were set aside for the real life drama that plagued me. Home. As in, I had to go there after school. I drew in a deep breath and tried to settle my nerves. Would it ever get easier walking through the front door?
After the bell rang, and all the other students flooded into the surrounding streets and headed back to their humble abodes, I would quietly make my way to the library and settle in for the afternoon. It had become my after-school ritual since moving to town last year, and I wouldn’t leave until the lights were turned out in my sanctuary. Only then would I make the anxiety-inducing trip home. You’d think I was going to a funeral the way I went to that dark place in my mind during the five-minute drive.
Because I never knew what to expect when I walked through the front door, my stomach always churned as I stepped onto the front porch. Today was no exception. I silently turned the key in the lock before opening the door and poking my head in to check the situation. The coast was clear, and I sighed in relief. Slipping off my shoes, I tiptoed to my room. Almost there. This might be a good day after all.
“Samantha! Is that you?”
My mother’s shrill words rang in my ears, and I stopped dead in my tracks, contemplating my next move. I could ignore her and pretend I hadn’t heard, although nobody within a half a block radius could have been spared her piercing screech. Besides, evading her was only a quick fix. She’d still find me, and I’d be right back here where I started.
Shoring myself for the assault, I answered. “Yes. I’m home.”
“You care to explain this?”
She always did that, pointing to an issue in another part of the house where I couldn’t possibly know what she was referring to. Not that it mattered. Whatever was upsetting her was my fault. It always was. I felt a tingling of dread travel up my spine as my feet obediently moved toward the sound of her voice. I wondered how long she’d been stewing over the perceived slight. As I rounded the corner to the kitchen, I saw her standing with the dishwasher door open.
“I cleaned it out this morning,” I said, jumping in to defend myself. “Just like you asked.”
She slammed the dishwasher closed, and I jumped in place like the skittish colt she’d raised me to be. Mom yanked open the silverware drawer and the wood hit the stopper with a loud crack. I was surprised the flimsy rubber held. My mother presented me with Exhibit A: a spoon.
“What is this?” she asked, her eyes blazing.
I was too far away to see a problem, but I could guess the issue. I thought back to my brother, Sullivan, who’d taken the brunt of her fury for a similar spoon-related issue. Before he’d gone off to college, our failures split her disappointment in half. Now it was just me dealing with her. Andherwas a mentally unstable perfectionist who forced her unnamed disorder on the rest of us like a demented Martha Stewart.
My mother’s tyranny was the reason Sully moved halfway across the country the first chance he got. The reason he’d never once come home to visit that first year in college.
The reason he…
Tears immediately flooded my eyes, and I swallowed them back as quickly as they started. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Like a human wrecking ball, my mother had driven away everyone I loved. I was the only one left standing – but just barely. My thoughts turned toward my father.I can’t take it, he’d said.She’s dangerous. She’s crazy. And yet he’d had no trouble leaving Sully and me behind with Mommy Dearest to go marry the secretary he’d been banging at work.
He’d had no trouble washing his hands of hisoldkids when the new ones came along. And certainly, he had no trouble bitching about the child support payments he was court-ordered to pay. Never mind that it was the only day of the month mom was in a good mood. Sadly, today was not one of those days.
“Spots!” she screamed, the spoon shaking in her hand. “There are spots, Samantha.”
“Sorry,” I answered feebly, wishing the safety stone around my neck had the ability to erect a shelter large enough for me to crawl inside. “I didn’t see them.”
“Did you even bother to look? What about this one? Spots, too! Look!” Mom tossed the offending spoon at me before lifting another one from the drawer, examining it. “And this one? I take it you didn’t see this one either?”
“I… no…”
Mom let out an aggravated growl before flinging that one at me as well. There had been a time when Mom could nail a fly on an opposing wall with a butter knife, but luckily for me, her aim was all over the place nowadays.
“Get it together! What’s wrong with you? How hard is it to wipe down the silverwarebeforeyou put it away? Do I have the only kid on the planet who can’t follow simple goddamn instructions?”
“I’ll fix it, Mom,” I answered, my lip quivering from the force of her fury. I hated living this way. I hated being weak and accommodating, but what choice did I have? Lashing back never accomplished anything except more yelling and more screaming and more punches landing on my body. Appeasing her was the only feasible option. “Go get your stuff done. When you get back, your silverware will be as shiny as a freshly cut diamond.”
“Are you mocking me, Samantha? Is that what you’re doing?”
“No…no,” I hesitated, my voice lowering to a bare whisper. “I’m going to fix this, but I can’t if you’re throwing silverware at me.”
Mom’s eyes narrowed as I stood in place like a shaky puppy waiting for the big dog to pounce. If she did, I knew it would hurt, but I’d gotten to a point where I’d become numb to her beatings. At least when they were over, I’d be safe for another day.
But today would prove to be a good day. Instead of engaging, my mother spun for a dramatic exit but dizzied herself in the process and had to get steadied with the support of the kitchen counter before stomping off in a huff. I slumped against the wall, letting out the breath I’d been holding, and those pesky tears returned. Her moods were becoming more erratic. Who was to say the next thing she threw at me wouldn’t be a butcher knife that would slice me clean in half?
Maybe I needed to rethink Auntie Kim’s offer of asylum. But I barely knew her. Who was to say I wouldn’t be trading one bad living situation for another? It was a matter of choosing the devil I knew; although, to be fair, the choice really wasn’t mine to make. My mother wouldn’t willingly give up daily maid service. And if I didn’t have the voice to stand up for myself when it came to smudged spoons, how could I stand up in front of a judge and speak of years of abuse and threats? No, I could make it another year and a half. It would be tough, but I’d survived so far. Once I graduated, I’d be off to a far away college, and I’d never have to lay eyes on that woman again.
Like Sullivan.
