Chapter 29
SCARLETT
“Mom?” I opened my apartment door to find her fidgeting in the hallway, rubbing her elbows the way she had since I was a kid. My stomach clenched. I knew that look, the toxic cocktail of desperation and shame that came with needing help. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”
“I’m sorry to bother you.” Her voice was so quiet, I almost couldn’t hear her. And her once-blonde hair continued to collect more grays, like this new chapter in her life was aging her faster.
“Hey, you’re never a bother.” I ushered her inside, noting how she still hesitated at thresholds, a leftover habit from years of asking permission to enter rooms in her own house. “Mi casa es su casa, remember? We’ve talked about this.”
She stood in my living room, looking small and lost. “I was wondering if I could …”
“Mom.” I smiled. “It’s okay. Just tell me what you need.”
“Gas prices went up,” she blurted, scratching her elbow raw. “And I have four interviews this week.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Four?”
A tiny smile bloomed on her face. “I really think I’m getting close.”
Pride and heartache bloomed in my chest. Look, if I was being completely honest, I was still struggling to figure out where that line was between helping someone and enabling them.
Maybe I wasn’t getting it right every time, but I was doing my best to help her get back on her feet.
After all, I was really proud that she finally, finally left my father.
My feelings about her were like this kaleidoscope, all jumbled together, and each day, a different one might dominate.
Like part of me was angry not just at him, but at her too.
Sometimes, the resentment would bubble up like acid reflux.
Why hadn’t she protected me? Why had she just watched, silent and trembling, while he terrorized us both?
Then the guilt would hit, making me feel like the world’s biggest asshole.
Who gets mad at someone for being abused?
I remembered how he’d controlled every penny, every decision.
How he’d systematically dismantled her self-worth until she believed she couldn’t survive without him.
The master manipulator, convincing her that without a college degree, she’d never get a job, and without a job, the courts would take me away from her.
I was his ultimate trump card. The pawn that kept Mom trapped.
“At least he beat me instead of Scarlett,” I’d once overheard her say. “At least Scarlett has food and a roof over her head.” As if living with a monster was better than a homeless shelter. As if the bruises he left on both of us didn’t go deeper than skin.
But today? Today, I chose gratitude. Mom was out.
Safe. Living in an apartment Dakota had helped me rent under her name, creating a paper trail Dad couldn’t follow.
One more reason I couldn’t lose this job.
Mom would lose her apartment, Dakota’s credit would tank, and the whole house of cards would come tumbling down.
But I wasn’t going to let that happen.
“Of course, Mom.” I grabbed cash from my purse, pressing it into her trembling hands before she could spiral into another apology.
Her eyes welled up. “I’m going to make you proud, Scarlett. I’ve kept track of every cent—”
“Stop.” I squeezed her hands. “I don’t want repayment. I want you safe.”
She was taking steps with sharing her résumé, asking about job benefits, and learning how to exist in a world she’d been sheltered from for decades. In many ways, my mother was like a teenager, and I was her reluctant guide to adulting.
“Have you eaten?” I asked. “I was just about to make some food.”
My mom joined me for dinner. We talked about lighter topics, and at some point, we even laughed.
This was another thing I wanted Mom to experience: normalcy.
Not everything had to be dark and heavy and about my abusive father.
The more experiences she got that were normal, the more normal she would feel, I suspected.
Still, it was hard for my eyes not to wander to the scars that were visible.
After dinner, I walked Mom to the elevator, both of us riding down in comfortable silence. The lobby’s fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as we pushed through the heavy glass doors into the night.
The evening was warm, the kind that drew people out of their apartments like moths to a flame, and streetlights cast warm halos on the row of parallel-parked cars, transforming puddles from yesterday’s rain into pools of liquid shimmers.
“Look.” Mom pointed to her car, wedged into a coveted spot between a fire hydrant and a moving van. “I parallel parked it in only two tries this time.”
I grinned. “Soon, you’ll be teaching me tricks.”
We were almost to her car when I heard a fresh set of steps emerge behind us.
“I knew I’d find you.”
That voice. My blood turned to ice in my veins, and Mom took a sharp intake of air.
Slowly, so slowly, we turned to find my worst nightmare.
I shifted automatically, pushing Mom behind me as a burly figure emerged from between the cars. The streetlight caught his face, and those familiar features twisted into something almost feral.
“Dad,” I spat, my heart trying to hammer its way out of my chest. My palms were slick with sweat, but I kept my voice steady. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing my fear.
I’d always known this moment would come. Had rehearsed it in my head a thousand times. But standing here now, with Mom trembling behind me, I wondered if any amount of preparation could have been enough.