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“We have plenty in common.” She waved her hand as though there were too many to be named.
“Name. One.” Crossing my arms, I stared, waiting, knowing I opened a can of worms that would explode in an array of grime and blood.
But enough already.
Mother eyed me, her own gaze narrowing. “Don’t get all short with me, young lady.”
“You love spas,” I told her. “I hate them. You love chocolate. I’ve always preferred vanilla. You’ll choose a nap over a walk outside every day. You love long hair, and I want mine cut in a bob.”
I should’ve let it rest right there, but the heat flared to flames, and I gave in to the need to finally voice what I felt—what I knew to be true.
“You like to be entertained,” I continued on before she could say a word, “have people cater to you while I’d rather do things and make my own entertainment. We have nothing in common, Mother. We never have!” My voice raised, and I couldn’t stop, my arms starting to flail. “When are you going to open your eyes and see that? When are you going to finally recognize that my life isn’t about you?”
Red stained Mother’s cheeks. “Everything I’ve done has been for you,” she hissed the second I paused for breath.
Hopping up to my feet, I met her pissy stare, my hands on my hips and my insides quivering. “Bullshit!”
“Addilyn Jane!” Mother stood too, but I wasn’t about to back down. The dam had been opened. It was time to let it all out.
She could have my cell phone—unloading would be worth it. She could cancel my birthday party that sounded like an absolute bore anyway.
“Every decision you’ve ever made about me has been for your benefit,” I told her, my low voice shaking while I pulled my cell from my back pocket. “The latest being those men you brought into our home! Do you know what it’s like sharing a bathroom? Having to put up with a protective jackass who growls whenever one of my friends gets close to me? This life sucks, Mother, and it’s your fault!”
“You jealous, ungrateful bitch,” Mother shrieked. “It’s my time, my turn for happiness!”
“It’s always been your time!” I screamed right back, tossing my cell onto the chair I’d hopped up from. “But this party isn’t about you! It’s my birthday, my sweet sixteen. Why can’t you just listen to what I want for a change? Hear what I’m saying rather than plan your next words when I talk? You don’t hear me. You’ve never heard me! It’s like I’m not good enough—I can’t ever live up to your high damn expectations!”
“You can forget about your party, young lady!” she screamed, spittle flying from her lips.
Expected, but I couldn’t give a single shit. “Good! I don’t want what you planned anyway!” Spinning on my heel, I rushed for the door, my insides trembling, hands shaking.
“I don’t want to be like her!” Mother shrieked like a damn banshee, totally mental, something glass smashing in the room behind me. “Do you hear what you’re doing to me, Addilyn Jane? I swore I would always stay in control, and you’re constantly pushing and pushing. All I ever wanted was to escape her—and now I’m becoming her!”
Mother’s rant followed me out into the hallway, her voice ringing in my ears as I sprinted up the stairs.
Escape her…becoming her…
Had Mother’s relationship with her own mom been as horrid as ours was? The thought should have pained my heart, but Mother had crushed me one too many times to stir up any understanding or empathy for what she went through as a child.
She might have become the woman who’d raised her, but no way in hell would I continue down that path.
“Addilyn!” Lloyd called after me, but I ignored him as he strode from his office toward Mother’s parlor.
She broke down into screaming hysterics, and tears welled in my own eyes, spilling onto my cheeks as I rushed through the carpeted hallway and into my bedroom.
While the release had felt good, my heart ripped in two over her absolute disregard for me. Even after finally hearing the reason Mother and my grandmother were estranged, I couldn’t rouse an ounce of pity for the childhood she must’ve had.
Too much damage had been done.
I slammed my bedroom door, tossed myself onto my bed like a toddler having a tantrum, and screamed my pity party sobs into my pillow.
It’s joked that all teenagers say they hate their life—but I truly did.
Reality as I knew it couldn’t get any worse.
