Very Bad Things
Page 52

She gasped, surprised at my insolence. “Yes, daughter, I can. I am your mother. You’ve humiliated yourself in front of the entire student body, you’re staying out until all hours, you’re getting in fights, you’re wearing God knows what, and oh yes, you’ve dyed your hair that red color. You look like white trash.”
“No, no, no,” I said, “you’re a control freak who expects everyone around you to be perfect! And where’s Dad? Do you even know who he’s fucking? But wait, you don’t even care, do you?”
She looked down at her French manicured nails. “Our relationship is not your business.”
“You’re never here during the week, and I eat alone, Mother. I walk around this big house, feeling invisible. And why haven’t you asked me why I told them all to fuck off. You don’t ask those questions because you don’t care! You didn’t even call me on my birthday!”
She sneered. “I know why you made a fool of yourself. You did it because you’re ungrateful,” she said, opening the kitchen drawer and pulling out a pack of cigarettes.
What was this? She’d never smoked before. I watched her light one with quivering hands. More secrets. We all had so many secrets.
“I knew I never should have let you take that theatre course at the community college. It’s made your tendency toward drama even worse,” she said, exhaling smoke.
“How would you know if I was dramatic?” I yelled at her, my anger escalating. “You know nothing about my life. You don’t even look at me half the time, much less see who I really am!”
“You’re a sick girl who has to repeat words in her head so she can function.” She took a drag off the cigarette and then pointed it at me. “You’re screwed up . . . that’s who you are.”
I gripped my purse, wanting to run. “Don’t you see that you’ve ruined the person I could have been.” I got my courage up and said the truth. “Mother, I told you when I was fourteen years old that Finn was crawling in my bed at night, forcing himself on me, and you ignored me! It went on for months! You called me a liar!”
“Shut up!” she screamed, but I didn’t stop.
“And now . . . now, you’re telling me he’s coming back to live here! With me alone in this house!” I said, clenching my hands into fists.
She rolled her eyes. “God, just shut up and about Finn! He never touched you. You and I both know you made that up.”
Tears stung my eyes at the pain her words caused. “You’re just as sick as he is,” I whispered.
Her eyes bulged out, and she slapped me so hard that my purse fell on the kitchen floor, its contents spilling out across the marble tile. She bent over and picked up my knife and eyed it warily but sat it back down when she saw my silver case. She snatched it up, popped it open and glared at me. “This, Nora! This is what’s wrong with you! You’re using drugs! You blame everyone else for your problems, when it’s your own fault, not Finn’s and not mine. God, my own daughter is an addict!”
I cradled my stinging cheek as I laughed at her. “I’ve only done coke one time, Mother, one time. Finn was the one who gave it to me. It’s his cocaine.”
I bent to pick up my phone and opened it with shaking hands. I found the hateful images stored there and shoved it in her face. Her skin whitened as she saw it. “Look, this is how your precious son posed me the last time he raped me. He got me high on cocaine, Mother. He took pictures of an innocent young girl like this! He used me and then let his friend from school have a turn! Is that brotherly love?” I said, my body shaking all over at admitting out loud what had happened to me.
She shook her head at me, “You’re a whore!”
I gave her a look of disgust and gathered up my purse, knife, and keys. There’s no reasoning with a mad woman. “Keep the coke. You might need it,” I said.
“You are not leaving this house, Nora!” She grabbed my shoulders, her nails digging into my skin. “If you walk out that door, I will never speak to you again,” she said. She meant it. Silence was her ultimate punishment for me.
I tore her fingers out of my arm and backed up from her, trying to get closer to the door, knowing to not turn my back. I knew her ways.
I said, “There was a time when I needed you. I came to you and told you what was happening, and you convinced yourself I was a liar, because you didn’t want to believe your son would be so twisted. Because what would your high society friends and Good Morning, Dallas fans think if they knew your precious son was touching your daughter? What if they found out he was my half-brother and didn’t belong to dad? What if he was arrested? No, Mother, you chose yourself over me and left me to suffer.”
She winced, like I’d struck a nerve.
“There were nights when I was alone, and I’d lay in bed with knives. I didn’t know if I wanted to kill myself, kill Finn, or kill you. I tried to become this perfect person, hoping you would love me. I got the best grades, I played the piano, I paraded myself around in stupid dresses, I won a national spelling bee,” I said.
She sighed. “You’re exaggerating as usual, Nora.”
“No,” I choked out, letting the tears pour down my face, not getting why she wouldn’t just love me. Why couldn’t anyone just love me.
She smirked. “God, do you need me here to cuddle you at night? Grow up. And don’t think I’ll give you a dime if you leave. You’ll get nothing from me, do you understand? You can forget piano lessons and going to Princeton.”