Chapter 11
“Waiter!” Momma yells in a haughty tone, her delicate features bunching into a contemptuous sneer. “More wine now!”
I duck my head, my cheeks flaming. Honestly, I should be used to her embarrassing antics by now. The woman is notorious for making a public nuisance of herself.
“One moment, ma’am.” Selene, our unfortunate waitress, places two sizzling entrées on the table across from us.
The elderly couple glares at my mother, and I don’t fault them one bit.
Their disdain is warranted; her behavior is disgustingly atrocious.
She missed the memo to treat others the way you want to be treated or, more likely, just ignored it.
As far as she’s concerned, people below a certain tax bracket don’t deserve her consideration or respect.
“What the hell are you two staring at?” she slurs, directing her scorn at the pair. “Mind your own goddamn business.”
They quickly avert their gazes, choosing wisely to avoid a confrontation with the crazy inebriated person. I silently thank them. The last thing we need is airport security on our case.
I clear my throat. “Momma, don’t you think you’ve had enough wine?”
She already drank three glasses; any more alcohol, and I’ll have to carry her on my back.
“Don’t question me,” she admonishes, her dark-brown irises shooting laser beams at me. “I’m the adult and you’re the child. It’s best you remember that.”
“Sorry,” I mumble, my gaze fixed on my untouched lunch. “I didn’t mean to upset—”
“Another word and I’ll slap the black off you,” she threatens, shaking a dainty finger in my face.
My body flinches before I can stop it. I bite my tongue, following the elderly couple’s lead. Though humanly impossible, I’m positive my mother will indeed attempt to slap the black off me.
“Eat!” she orders, pouring more vinaigrette onto her tossed salad. “We don’t have all damn day. Boarding starts in thirty minutes.”
I cut into my salmon and force myself to swallow down a small piece.
The flaky fish settles heavily in my stomach.
It’s delicious, but I’m too anxious to enjoy the smoky flavor.
The last five months have been emotionally draining to say the least. Either someone is playing a cruel prank on me, or I’m unknowingly the lead character in a Lifetime movie.
The nightmare began on a typical Friday. I came home late from Redmond’s, and my father’s car wasn’t in the driveway. Call it a sixth-sense moment, but I knew something was wrong. He never stayed out that late. A thousand scenarios ran through my mind.
Momma brushed off my concerns and waited until morning to file a missing person’s report.
The following week, we learned the gut-wrenching truth.
Daddy was being investigated for health insurance fraud.
He knew it was only a matter of time before his crimes were brought to light.
Rather than face prosecution, he emptied his bank account and fled.
We haven’t seen or heard from him since.
That’s just the tip of the proverbial iceberg. Unbeknownst to us, Daddy was practically bankrupt and took out a second mortgage. He also has multiple malpractice lawsuits pending against him.
Momma isn’t blameless, though she does play the victim so well.
Her selfishness and obsession with expensive things escalated my father’s financial ruin.
She never took an interest in the bills and due dates.
That responsibility was left to Daddy. It’s a miracle she didn’t send him over the edge sooner.
“Sorry for the delay, ma’am.” Selene appears at my mother’s side and fills her glass. “It’s always busy around this time.”
“Spare me your excuses and don’t expect a tip either,” she sneers.
Selene gives a jerky nod. “Again, please accept my apol—”
“Move along,” Momma snaps, shooing her away.
I peek up from under my eyelashes and covertly study the woman who gave birth to me.
Was she born a narcissist? Or did something happen in her life that caused her to become this unfeeling monster?
It’s a question I’ve asked myself often, but I’m too chicken shit to seek an answer.
Here we are, practically destitute, but her spending habits haven’t changed.
Glossy hair styled in a trendy pixie cut, radiant espresso-brown skin, impeccable gel manicure and pedicure, and dressed head to toe in the latest fall fashion—one would think she was cruising on easy street.
She grudgingly sold some of her jewelry and other valuables to keep up appearances, including a pair of diamond earrings Daddy had gifted me on my sixteenth birthday.
When the house went into foreclosure, the furniture, sterling silver cutlery—basically anything that could prolong her lavish lifestyle—was sold too.
But the money is dwindling fast. We shouldn’t be in this restaurant, eating this overpriced food, about to board a first-class flight to Oregon.
There were cheaper ways to travel, considering our dire circumstances.
And then there’s Nolan. He took the fall from grace harder than any of us.
He literally ugly cried, snotty nose and everything.
An ugly person ugly crying is an alarmingly grotesque sight.
I thought we were going to have to call an ambulance when he fell out on the floor, his limbs spread wide.
His dreams of being the campus playboy? Gone with Daddy’s bank account.
Heck, after January, he might be dropping out anyway; tuition is only covered until then.
He’ll have to learn to fend for himself.
We all do, but unlike my brother and my mother, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to achieve my goals and pave my own way.
I’ll find a job and save every cent I can for college.
Then there’s financial aid, loans, grants, and scholarships.
Redmond dumped me the second Daddy’s name hit the news. I didn’t shed a tear.
The relationship was never mine—it was Momma’s. Her blueprint. Her social-climbing scheme.
We only ever made it to second base, per my mother’s stringent seduction guidelines.
Thank goodness for that at least. He cheated the entire time we were together.
Not that I gave a flying crap. It kept him from pawing at me every chance he got.
I shiver, recalling the many times he tried to force himself on me.
Momma excused his behavior, asserting, “Boys will be boys.” It was a relief when he graduated from high school and went off to college.
“I have to pee.” Momma stands, swaying on her feet. “Tell that idiot to bring the check.”
“Okay,” I mumble and watch her stagger to the restroom.
Dear God, please, please, please let my short stay in Oregon be drama-free.
I have a gut feeling my prayers will go unanswered.
We’ll be staying with Sheila, though she didn’t extend the invitation out of the kindness of her heart.
It was for Grandma’s sake. Her health has been deteriorating for some time now, and the added stress of worrying about us hasn’t helped matters.
My once lively grandmother spends most days in bed.
Maybe her daughters’ temporary truce will help improve her condition. One can only hope.
Sheila and her husband, Keith, relocated to Oregon about a year ago.
They met while living in Delaware and have been married going on two years now—give or take a few months.
Of course, we weren’t invited to witness their special day.
Keith works in banking and transferred to the West Coast office after getting a promotion.
Sheila finally has everything she’s ever wanted.
I’m thrilled for her, but Momma is green with jealousy.
“Excuse me,” I call out to Selene as she walks past the table. “We’re ready for the check.”
“Sure thing,” she replies. “Need any boxes?”
“No, we’re good. Thanks.” Momma only has a few bites left, and my roiling stomach can’t handle any more food.
“You’re welcome,” she says, collecting the dishes from the table. “Be back in a sec.”
“Wait.” I glance toward the restroom door before rummaging through my purse and plucking a twenty out of my wallet. “Here you go.”
“Thank you.” Selene beams, stuffing the bill into her apron.
“Hey, you earned it.” And it’s the least I could do after my mother’s behavior.
That’s the last of my cash. I have sixty-four dollars left in my checking account, but that won’t last long. Finding a job sooner rather than later is paramount. Hopefully someone is willing to hire an eighteen-year-old with no work experience or references. Fingers crossed.
“Momma, please calm down,” I plead, clasping my sweaty palms together in an ironclad grip. “Maybe something came up. Unexpected things happen all the time.”
The drama floodgates crashed open the second our plane landed. Sheila and her husband were supposed to be our ride from the airport, but she texted Momma telling her they couldn’t make it. Thus, the ranting and raging began. My anxiety is skyrocketing.
I inhale deep, measured breaths to ease the tightness in my chest. This is so not the time to have a freaking asthma attack. I need to placate my mother before we get to my aunt’s house and all hell breaks loose.
Frank’s—our Uber driver—saucer-eyed gaze collides with mine in the rearview mirror.
He’s probably thinking the mentally unstable lady forgot to take her daily crazy-people meds.
I wish there were a reasonable explanation for her tirade, but entitlement is her only ailment, and there’s no treatment available for that.
I sigh, massaging my throbbing temples. Fantastic, the first stirrings of a headache. Soon the dull ache will develop into a full-blown migraine.
“I can’t wait to give that bitch and her dog-face husband a piece of my mind,” she rages on.
“Sheila is pregnant, remember? Maybe she isn’t feeling well and Keith is taking care of her,” I say, attempting to soothe her hurt pride. “Isn’t morning sickness rough during the first trimester?”