Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Love surges in my chest for these young women who still have so much living ahead of them. I want to hug them. But doing so might create more difficulties for them when I leave. Mom will punish them. A huge wave of guilt for leaving them all here crashes over me. I should have been looking out for them. I should have been protecting them.
“They don’t want to see you,” Mom barks.
I glance back at my sisters to find their expressions say something very different.
“I haven’t changed my number,” I say. “I’d love to hear from you.”
“They have you blocked,” Mom spits. “We all do. You left this family the moment you ran out on us.”
I try to keep my expression blank, but inside it’s hard to hear what she’s saying. I know how she is, but who she is remains the same: this is my mother. There’s a tiny part of me that hoped she’d see me today and remember she loves me.
I face my sisters. I don’t want to engage with Mom. There’s no point. She’ll twist my words, try to make me the monster.
“I didn’t run out on you. I just knew I couldn’t marry a man I didn’t love to keep Mom happy.” My voice is calm but small. It feels so grating to be speaking against her like this, in front of her. We’d all complain to each other about her, but we always went along with what she said in the end. We didn’t feel we had any choice. But for the life of me, I don’t understand why I stayed as long as I did when I became an adult. I didn’t have to give her my paycheck. Why didn’t I just keep it and find my own place?
Because she was my mother and I thought it was her job to do what was best for me. I thought it was my job to do what she told me.
I was wrong on both counts.
“I miss you,” I say, looking at all my sisters.
Marion’s eyes are glassy. I don’t want her to cry. I don’t want any of them to face the consequences of missing me too.
Unless.
Unless.
Unless I could encourage them to break free as well. They’ve all finished high school. None of them have to be here. I can’t scoop them up and bundle them into the back of a cab, but maybe I can give them hope.
I glance back to Mom, whose gaze is stuck on the TV. She’s so mad, she can’t even look at me.
I look at my sisters, trying to convey, without words, how much I love them. I have to tread a tightrope. I want to show them how good it feels to be independent, but at the same time I don’t want to make their lives more difficult when I leave.
“You don’t have to stay here,” I say to them, not looking at my mother.
“Exactly what I was about to say to you,” my mother hisses, suddenly coming back to life, as if she knows what I’m saying threatens her. Like she thinks there might be a chance my sisters will listen to me and break free from her. “Why are you here anyway? I’ve burned all your things. There’s nothing left for you here. Just get out.”
Even though I’ve always known my mom can be cruel and nasty and hurtful, I don’t think it’s until this moment that I realize she doesn’t love me. Not like a mother should. She doesn’t love my sisters either. If she did, she wouldn’t lash out like this. She’s not concerned about how I’m feeling, where I’ve been, how I’ve been surviving. All she cares about is herself. Aren’t all mothers supposed to love their children? Mom doesn’t love any of us.
Of course she doesn’t love me. She can’t. It’s not in her.
The last thread of attachment I have to this woman withers and dies. A deep sense of sadness settles over me. It’s grief for the mother I should have had.
“You deserve a happy life,” I say to my sisters, pushing down the feelings of betrayal I feel straining to get to the surface. “You don’t exist to serve this woman, even though she’s your mom.”
“I thought I told you to get out.” She switches off the TV and turns to face me.
“I will not,” I say, meeting her eye to eye for the first time since I arrived. “I own this trailer. For now. I can stay as long as I like.”
I’ve never spoken to my mother like this. Never stood up to her, stood against her.
She narrows her eyes like she’s just waiting for the right time to strike back, then she snaps her head around to my sisters. “Get back to your room. You don’t need to see this.”