Chapter 17
madison
. . .
Okay, Madison. You’ve got to speak up. Or you could just wait.
I’d ordered nearly every appetizer this place had and all of their most popular creations, as evidenced by the tiny crown next to many of the entrées.
And I’d noticed the crown appeared next to all the most expensive options.
Yep, I should shut up and enjoy the splurge.
Did I have the money? Nope. But this posh restaurant required a credit card for reservations.
Dad’s credit card. I sure hoped that card was on hold when I left, like an open bar tab.
“Honey?” Mom said over the phone from hundreds of miles away on my birthday.
I stared around the restaurant, wondering how the hell I always told on myself, but never spoke up for myself.
You know what, forget the passive-aggressive route, using my dad’s black card for dinner.
I needed family the most. Okay, I needed money, but not that much. And especially not on my birthday.
Besides, how could I be callous with Washington and not give my parents half the hell?
I went from Patty Pushover to all those badass kids from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
At least that’s what I imagined, as I said, “Listen. I spent my entire life pleasing you. Then, in my first year of college, I declared a major. The major you chose for me. You said I should become an attorney because I talked so much. Well, forgive me for trying to spark a conversation with my parents. But you know what? I’m glad I chose that major so you and Dad wouldn’t abandon me in that one last way that only you could.
Financially. That fear tactic was your last power move. ”
“Sweetie, what are you talking about? You became, uh … an artist, anyway.”
Ouch. I heard the way she said artist, not disguising the disappointment.
That was fine. I didn’t need their approval.
I was proud of myself, and proud of how I became me.
“Thank you for sending me off to college. Thank you for forcing me to pick a political science major before the age of eighteen while all the other students were winging it.”
Mom gasped. “Maddy, are you being sarcastic?”
“Not really, because I’m actually thankful that you brought me straight into Washington’s orbit where we struggled, and I learned unconditional love.
So, thank you for twisting the whole tough-love thing.
Thank you for showing me I was rich all along, and you’re dirt poor.
” Lord, that last part. Don’t send me to hell for it.
Mom’s breath hitched as I pressed on. “True wealth springs from the heart, from love, and from the precious gift of time and encouraging one another. Noticing someone’s efforts.
Unfortunately, I didn’t know that then. Because I tried to build my husband up in a way that caught your attention.
With his bankroll. You didn’t even accept that.
You never acknowledged that he’d do anything for our child.
” Okay, Maddy, say you have a hard time mentioning your son without literally saying it because you’ve said everything else.
My mother huffed. “Are you implying that we wouldn’t do anything for Elijah?”
“I’m implying that Washington would never harm our son, Mom.
So, if you ever bring up the plane crash again and call him the villain, then the closest you’ll ever get to me is blindsiding me on FaceTime with Lynetta, or if you ever visit your firstborn.
” I took a deep breath and concluded with Washington’s dry-ass humor: “I love you despite you, good night.” I tapped the Off button.
When Lynetta burst into the restaurant a few minutes later, scanning the room with a worried expression, I waved to her from our table, which overflowed with appetizers.
Her gift bag swung with each step and smacked a man in the back of the head.
It really wasn’t her fault; these dang seats were so low and cushiony, perfect for a nightclub vibe.
Flustered, she approached the table with a puppy-dog expression. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay, sis. You texted me. Traffic, what are ya gonna do?” I shrugged.
She glared at the two empty seats across from us while handing over my gift. Designer socks. Because she had it like that. “Your other gift is at home. A purse that may complement these socks.”
“Oh, so you do love me.” I gave her a side-arm hug. While she ordered drinks, I brought her up to speed on how I ordered one of everything courtesy of our father. And then I gave an entire rundown of my call with Mom.
Lynn cringed. “I didn’t blatantly snitch to Momma about you and Washington.”
“I figured. That woman has mastered the delicate balance of staying MIA and doing a stakeout of our lives simultaneously.”
Lynetta sipped her mojito. “You … should be with Washington tonight. Your eyes light up when you talk about him. Same fireworks I saw when you first mentioned him. Go, be with him, sis.”
My brow lifted. “So, you can go National Geographic-ing? Clearly you love Nat-Geo more than you hate him?”
My sister crunched ice. “No. Girl, you have it all wrong. It’s geocaching. Also, I had a solemn duty to hate Wash on my sister’s behalf.”
“What?”
“Remember when I caught you in his arms after your first date?”
“Yeah?”
In a whiny voice, she repeated what she’d said the night of our first date. “ ‘He returned to work right after they hooked Elijah up to life support. After one week. Five business days! Probably wanted to pull the plug then.’ ”
My eyes sprang to hers, already blurring with tears. “I said that first, didn’t I?”
“Yep. You griped about him so much this past year that I wanted to ensure the little, nasty freak in you wasn’t overriding what you felt.
That getting back together wasn’t a mistake based on hormones.
I wanted nothing more than to throw a taco at the back of his head, and I’m a nonviolent person.
But I always got that work was his coping mechanism, and it didn’t seem like you did.
Maybe I needed to know you weren’t gonna put it on him, get it out of your system, and then get all angry at him again. ”
“Oh?” Made total sense.
“So, I was ride or die, sis. Angry like you. But you love that man. And I see fireworks in your eyes, so go getcha man.”
Instead of acknowledging how my prissy sister had gotten a little hood on me or how she’d touched my heart, I picked up a carne asada mini taco. Smiling, I addressed the asinine, my mind still reeling over what my heart already knew. What my sister already knew.
“Look at this thing. Have you seen the back of Washington’s head?
It isn’t big enough to do damage. Besides, thank you for not throwing hands and tacos,” I said, taking a bite of the soft-shell street taco.
“Because I griped at my husband, and that was enough abuse. Hell, my attitude was so ripe, so funky, I attacked children who had done nothing but try to survive various forms of abuse or neglect.” I planted my palm on my forehead.
“But before I let out that bottled anger after Elijah’s funeral, I probably looked like the sweet darling before she lost reality and whistled Redrum while carving a shank. ”
“Facts,” Lynetta said, dunking a tortilla into three different salsas. “But I did just tell you to go get your man.”
She had, but I’d manipulated his time for the past month, and he hadn’t seen his brother.
“Uh-uh, big sister, let’s unpack. I need to validate your feelings too.
” I incorporated the heritage of my ex-in-laws.
“Bébé, what you said makes sense. My nonlethal-Snapped moment must’ve triggered the Mike Tyson in you. ”
“Well … it did,” she admitted. “But clearly I’m fine. This is about you and Washington, Maddy. I’m just here to support you.”
I sighed. “Okay, then. Let’s take in the hospital aspect. I’m confident that Wash thought with all our family around, I had all the support I needed.”
“But you needed him.” She nodded.
“And I’m only realizing now that Wash needed to grieve his own way. Instead of respecting his needs, or sharing what I needed, I became Big Mad.” I took a bite of empanada and washed it down with a sip of my drink. “That’s probably your fault. Thank you for enabling me, sis.”
She chuckled, then took on the voice of a smooth-talking drug dealer, “I’m your pusher man, honey.”
“Oh, hush.” We giggled together. “Lynn, I actually wanted to be alone. Not that I needed it. I guess my actions of pushing people away have helped me realize how alone you felt while growing up, big sis.”
“Not even. You were my teddy bear. Except Mom got to dress you and do your hair. I fed and made sure you washed more than your face.”
“Hardy har, har.” No lie there, though. “Moisturize was Mom’s soundtrack on repeat.
She also taught me to pull away. Which was easy when we were young because she only had her two girls to ghost when Dad was at work.
” I took a deep breath. “In a roundabout way, I paused life. Didn’t want my expensive riverfront house, or what I had left after our plane crashed.
Then, when all I had left was my art decor store? My mind trapped me again.”
“Girl, your mind told you to drop everything but your Daewoo, huh?” Lynn shook her head. “And honestly, I was a touch mad when I heard about the divorce proceedings. Full confession?”
“Of course.”
“Madison, I, uh, tried to slam your ankle in the door.”
“When? Oh, when Washington drove me home after my jail stint?”
“Yeah.” She dropped her head into her hands. “I tried to take up for you, and I saw something in your eyes. You had lied to me. About the divorce. Am I right? I’m so sorry.”
I nodded. “Don’t apologize, sis. It only hurt. A little. I’m the one who needs to apologize. For the last year, I have been Cocoa Pebbles crazy. Confused.” I sobbed. “I took you for granted.”
“No!”
“I didn’t try to pay you rent.” My sobs got ugly, and people were looking, but who cared? Not me.