Chapter Two
One month later
Anya
I finish up work and close out my station, I’m physically and mentally exhausted from working a double shift. My mom leaves next week for Greece, and all I can think about is how jealous I am that she gets to travel. Where I’m stuck here dealing with my two younger siblings who barely speak to me since I stopped talking to Paul. We acknowledge each other’s presence, sure, but we are not as close as we used to be. I remember Kora saying that she hopes that she is nothing like me when she gets older. I can’t say I blame her; I made some really stupid mistakes when it came to Paul. But I just wished that we could go back to normal. I mean, it’s been two years and I still feel like an outsider in my own family. Everyone looks at and treats me differently. I try so hard every day to prove to them how sorry I am for letting them down, to prove I’m still worthy of them. But, how long can this last, how long can I push my feelings and wants aside to please them, how long will I need to be punished for the mistakes of my past?
I pack up my belongings and clock out, making my way past the bar where Joe is finishing up his tasks. "Hey, gorgeous, I'm almost done. Want to walk out with me?" he asks with a wink. Our playful banter has become a regular occurrence ever since he stood up for me that day when a guest got too handsy.
"Well, if you were as quick on your side work as you are with your flirting, you'd be done already," I tease, matching his playful tone.
He grins. "Ooh, well, maybe I just wanted us to be the last ones here," he quips, winking again.
I roll my eyes, trying to hide my smile. "Well, aren't you the charmer? But who says I would want to be stuck with you?" I reply, playing along.
Joe dramatically clutches his chest. "Oh, you wound me," he says, pretending to collapse to the ground.
I chuckle and shake my head. "Get up, you overgrown child. You're going to get all sticky," I warn, unable to suppress my amusement.
He smirks, about to continue our flirtatious banter, but I quickly raise my hand to stop him. "Oh, I-" he starts, but I cut him off.
"Stop, nope, not going there," I interject firmly, turning to leave. "I'm going home, Mr. Charmer, and no, that's not an invitation for you to come over," I call out with a laugh as I head towards the exit.
Before I know it, Joe grabs me and turns me around, his hands resting on my waist. "Wait, please, come out tonight. We're both off tomorrow, and we can have some fun," he says, pulling me closer.
"Oh? You want to have some fun together?" I tease, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling his head down towards mine. I feel him squeeze me tighter, his breath becoming heavier. Then, I bring my mouth to his ear. "SUCKA!" I shout, pushing past him and ran towards my car, laughing.
He groans, a mixture of frustration and amusement. "You're a tease, Anya Parker! A TEASE!" he yells out as I hop into my car.
I pull out of my parking spot just as he walks out of the restaurant. I roll down my window. "Later, hot stuff!" I shout, winking and blowing him a kiss.
"One of these days, Anya, I'm gonna get a real kiss from you!" he shouts back from his car as he pulls away.
I smile and drive off, feeling a rush of adrenaline from our playful exchange. Flirting with Joe has always been the highlight of my nights at work. I'm not looking for a boyfriend; I just enjoy the thrill of playful banter. But that distraction is short-lived when I see my mom calling me.
"Hey, Mom, I'm pulling out of the parking lot now," I say as I start my car, the engine rumbling to life.
"Where are you? Why are you there so late?" she responds, her tone stern and disapproving.
"Mom, I just told you, I'm pulling out of the parking lot now. Friday nights are always busy," I answer, feeling the tension building up in my chest.
"Anya, I don't like you being out this late," she persists.
"Mom, it's only 11:00. Like I said, I'm on my way home now," I reassure her.
"We need to talk when you get here," she says firmly before hanging up abruptly, not waiting for my response.
I toss my phone onto the passenger seat and let out a frustrated sigh. Lately, my mom has been increasingly overbearing, always questioning my whereabouts, my activities, and the people I'm with. While I understand it's just her being a mom, her behavior has become excessive and suffocating. I'd be okay with it if it weren't so over the top.
I pull into the driveway, and there's my mom standing on the porch, arms crossed, a stern expression etched on her face. I take a deep breath, mentally preparing for the interrogation that awaits me. As I approach, she blocks my way, her foot tapping impatiently on the ground.
"Mom, can we do this inside?" I suggest, motioning toward the door. But she remains unmoved, her glare unwavering.
"Okay, I guess we'll do this out here then," I sigh, dropping my bag and mirroring her crossed arms. "Don't you dare sass me, young lady," she scolds.
"Mom, what do you want me to say? I can't help it if my last table didn't leave until 10:30," I retort, feeling my frustration bubbling up.
"You should have told me that you were going to be late!" she insists.
"I did!" I feel my voice rising, and I quickly take a breath to calm myself. "I texted you, saying I still had a table and would call as soon as I left the restaurant."
"That's not good enough!"
My anger begins to simmer beneath the surface. Why is she blaming me for something I had zero control over? "Mom, this isn't anything new. It's not like this is the first time I've had to stay late because of a customer," I say, hoping she doesn't detect the annoyance in my tone.
"Don't talk back to me! I need to know where you are at all times!" my mom yells, her tone dripping with authority.
I can feel my frustration rising like a tide within me. Why does she always treat me like a child? I'm not a little girl anymore. I clench my jaw, trying to keep my temper in check.
"Yeah, because I'm not 21 or anything, right?" I mutter sarcastically under my breath as I grab my bag, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
Before I can take another step, she grabs my ear and pulls me forcefully inside the house, her grip like a vice. "Excuse me! What was that?" she demands, her eyes flashing with anger.
"LET GO OF ME!" I shout, wrenching my ear from her grasp, my frustration boiling over.
"That’s it! Go to your room and don’t come out until you’ve learned how to show some respect!" she orders, her voice cold and stern.
I feel a surge of indignation and anger, but I swallow it down, knowing that arguing further will only make things worse. With a heavy heart and a deep sense of frustration, I trudge up the stairs to my room, feeling like a child once again, trapped in a world where I'm not allowed to be an adult.
Ugh, I am way too tired for this bullshit right now! I think to myself and head to my room. My dad walks in shortly after, “Hey kiddo, you wanna tell me what happened?” We sit on my bed and I explain everything that just occurred in the last 10 minutes.
My dad nods, “well, you know she’s just trying to look out for you?” he says.
“I know but does she have to berate me and treat me like a little kid in the process? I’m 21 years old and she treats me like I’m still 14!”.
My dad sighs, “I don’t think shes trying to treat you that way, I think its more she got worried and didn’t know how to handle it”.
I nod and let out a breath, “I understand she’s worried but I did tell her I was going to be late, and it's like she didn’t even listen. She never listens, if I’m being honest. Ever since Paul, it was like she stopped seeing me, and only saw a little girl. No matter what I do, or what I say, I will never be seen as an adult in her eyes”.
I get up and pace around my room trying to calm my nerves. “I want to go out with my friends after work, but anytime I mention it, she immediately turns it down! All of my friends are in their 20s and not one of them has to ask permission to go out to a bar or a club! Out of my whole friend group, I’m the only one who still needs to ask mommy and daddy! Do you know how embarrassing that is?”
My dad stands up and I can see frustration on his face, “Anya, we just want to keep you safe that’s it! Going to clubs and bars is overrated. You don’t know what it’s like out there in the real world and the dangers-
“That’s because you guys don’t let me! You can’t keep me cooped up in the house all bubble-wrapped, worrying about what may or may not happen. You guys have to allow me to live my life and make my own choices!”
My mom bursts open the door “WE LET YOU DO THAT ONCE AND LOOK WHERE THAT GOT YOU HUH!” she screams.
“Are you kidding me! That’s what this is all about?! PAUL?! You’re worried I’m gonna repeat what happened between me and Paul?! You don’t trust me to not make that mistake again?!” I am now shouting and pacing faster around my room.
“Its not that we don’t trust you, its just we are trying to make sure it doesn’t happen again” my dad says.
“You know what he did Anya, you know how many people he hurt in the process, and how it made us look at church” my mom blurts out.
Frustration and anger have now taken over, “OF COURSE I KNOW WHAT HE DID! I WAS THERE! I FELT IT FIRSTHAND!” Breathe Anya, just breathe, don’t cry, don’t cry. “What Paul did or didn’t do was NOT my fault! What happened between us, WAS NOT MY FAULT!” I feel the tears running down my face. “So..stop…bla..blaming me….for what HE did!” my voice cracks but I’m not gonna show weakness, I have to show them that I am strong. I have to prove to them that what despite what Paul did, he didn’t break me. I am not broken .
My parents leave my room and I collapse on my bed, I allow myself to cry, to let out all the anger and frustration. Then I get up, wipe my face and pull out my phone.
ANYA: “Hey what are you doing right now?”
JOE: “Not much why?”
ANYA: I need to get out
JOE: “You okay?”
ANYA: “Not really, but I will be as soon as I have some alcohol in my system”
JOE: “Okay, wanna meet at Rave?”
ANYA: “Actually, can you pick me up a few blocks away from my house, I can’t let my parents hear me leave?”
JOE: “Aren’t you a naughty girl ;-P”
ANYA: “Not right now Joe, please?”
JOE: “Okay, my bad, I’ll be there in 20 minutes”
ANYA: “Thanks”