Page 96 of Bottles & Blades
“I gave up mine to take care of you!”
Fuck.
I shove the soiled paper towels in the trash, pick up a plate, dump it in the sink. “Let me clean up,” I say, trying to stay calm. “And then I’ll make you something to eat.”
She goes quiet for a second, and I think I’ve suitably distracted her.
I’m wrong.
I only tackle bringing two more plates to the sink before she comes close and asks, tone shrill, “Who was that man? And why was he answering your phone in the middle of the night?”
Calm.
“I’m seeing him, Mom.”
There’s a long moment of quiet and I glance at her, see the ugly expression on her face.
Dammit.
“You little whore,” she hisses.
“Mom, I’m an adult,” I say on a sigh. “It’s natural that I date.”
They’re reasonable words, but I can tell they’re not going to penetrate. Because I’ve lost her.
“You littlewhore!”she shouts, reaching for me. “You dumb fucking whore!”
I slide away, reaching over and dumping more plates in the sink.
Part of this is the early stages of dementia—being angry, her emotions from zero to a hundred in a heartbeat—or at least that’s what her doctor says.
Part of this is the way she’s always been.
What I’ve always heard.
“Fucking whore! Fucking ungratefulwhore!”
I ignore her words as she continues ranting, keeping my distance as I grab the trash can, intending to empty the spoiled food from the fridge and freezer.
How the hell I’ll afford to fill them again, I don’t know.
But I’ll figure it out.
I always do.
Only, I’m just bending to throw out a leaking package of chicken breasts that smells like death when the blow comes.
“Ow!” I gasp, pain exploding over the back of my head. I drop the package and straighten, barely avoiding the next blow. “What the hell, Mom?”
“You fucking whore! Fucking bitch!Fucking slut!”
I hear my dad shout, asking if I’m okay. He’s too weak to walk without help and I want to reassure him, so he doesn’t try to do something stupid—like try to come help me—but I don’t get the chance.
Because she’s coming at me again, grabbing my hair and yanking roughly, sending searing pain through my scalp.
I spin around, reaching back, trying to free myself from her grip…
And that’s the moment Jean-Michel bursts through the door.
