Chapter 12
THE FISSURE
Winter
“You were with that rich kid with the tattoos.” Dad flicks his cigarette, and ash hits the table.
“I got invited out. I didn’t think it was a big deal.” Defending myself is pointless. Reasoning with the unreasonable gives me a headache.
They’re both sitting at the kitchen table, a united front apparently. Mom holds a cigarette between her fingers so tightly, she’s nearly crushing it. Her eyes flash with betrayal. I lied and put her at risk.
I’m suddenly so, so angry. Angry at her for never standing up to him. For putting me in impossible positions. For making me her unwitting shield.
It’s not her fault, I remind myself. She can’t help the way she is.
But that doesn’t make it suck any less. And it doesn’t stop me from wishing my life were different, that my parents weren’t the way they are.
“Better not get yourself pregnant or you’ll be on your own.
” There’s a slur in my father’s voice, a tremor that indicates his anger is simmering, ready to boil to the surface.
He can’t hold it in for long. His impulse control is abysmal.
Frustration mounts as my mother brings the cigarette to her lips, hands shaking, eyes anywhere but on me.
“I wouldn’t do something that stupid.” I never want to be like my parents. Even though the words are true, I hate them as soon as I say them.
My dad’s lip curls with derision. “Hear that, Lucy? Your own daughter called you stupid. Guess it must be true.”
I close my eyes and exhale through my nose, trying to find some calm, to not stoop to his level. “Can you just fucking stop? She didn’t do anything wrong. And the last time I checked, it takes two people to make a baby. You’re the one with the goddamn sperm.”
My mother gives me a warning look.
Dad’s chair scrapes across the floor as he pushes to stand.
He sways, unsteady on his feet, and moves across the room, stopping in front of me.
We’re almost the same height. And weight.
He’s lanky, with Gumby arms, malnourished with a slight potbelly from all the beer.
I’m cut, from all the hockey he doesn’t want me to play.
“You think you’re so fucking smart, don’t you?” he sneers.
“Not smart enough, obviously, since I’m still dealing with your nonsense on a regular basis.” I’m done with this shit. So tired of the verbal abuse, of walking on eggshells because my mother refuses to grow a spine and leave his useless ass.
“I put a roof over your head and this is the thanks I get? You’re an ungrateful little cunt!”
I bark out a laugh, fighting the sting of his caustic words. “You’re giving yourself an awful lot of credit. I’ve worked a part-time job since I was fourteen, and most of it has gone to support you and your shitty, money-leaching habits.”
His right eye twitches. “Well, that’s a fucking lie, isn’t it?”
“That you have shitty habits? That’s a goddamn fact.”
“Where were you supposed to be tonight?” He glances from me to my mother, who shrinks in on herself, a wilted flower.
“The laundromat and the library.”
“And were you?”
“You already know the answer to that.”
“Give me your phone.” He holds out his hand.
“No. I pay my phone bill, not you.”
“You live under my roof! Give me your fucking phone, girl. I wanna see the messages you sent your mother.” He spins around and stalks over to Mom, grabs the back of her chair and gets in real close.
“You’re a fucking liar! Telling me one thing and doing another.
Hiding shit from me. You’re both hiding shit from me!
” She cowers and puts her hands over her ears, folds in on herself.
I hate this so much. I hate that for years when our neighbors have called the cops, she always says everything is fine, that Dad just had a bad day at work. That it was her fault.
“Hey, fucker!” I snap my fingers and take a step toward him.
“You wanna get pissed at someone, get pissed at me. I lied to both of you. I told Mom I was at the library, but I was playing hockey. It’s where I’ve been every single night this week.
You wanna verify that shit, you can ask one of my coaches. ”
“Tell her,” he shouts at Mom. “Tell her what you told me.”
Mom doesn’t look up, just stares at her hands folded in her lap. “Your coach came to the diner today.”
Well, shit. That’s a complication I didn’t anticipate.
My father’s eyes gleam with hatred. He pulls a rolled-up wad of paper from his back pocket, tears it in two, and slams the pieces on the table, upsetting the ashtray and rolling cigarette butts into Mom’s lap and then the floor.
“You really think you’re smarter than both of us, huh?
Going behind my back, applying to college. ”
Dread turns my stomach. If he has my acceptance letter, he’s been in my bedroom. Hopefully that’s all he found.
“When’d you really tell your mother? How long has this been going on?” He grabs her arm and shakes her. “I know you’re covering for her. I fucking know it!”
I shove the chair aside, and it clatters to the floor as I stalk over to him, rage leaching out of me in poisonous rivers. “Don’t you fucking touch her.”
He smiles, teeth stained yellow and gray. “She’s my wife. I can do whatever I want to her.” It’s a taunt as much as a promise.
Less than half an hour ago I was zipping around the lake with a hot guy who’s all about taking care of people, and now I’m dealing with this nightmare.
I grab his wrist and twist, forcing him to release my mom.
Her chair falls over, and she lands on the floor in a heap. “Winter, don’t,” she pleads.
But I’m done. So, so done. “You wanna flex your muscles, big man, do it with me. At least I’ll fight back.
” I grab the front of his shirt and haul him toward the screen door leading to the deck.
He’s apparently not expecting this, so he stumbles over the lip and falls on his ass.
His hands hit the ancient deck boards, and I can guarantee his palms are full of splinters. Serves him right.
He crab-walks backwards until he hits the rickety railing. He tries to pull himself up, but it creaks and groans ominously, so he lets it go.
“Winter, you need to stop this. Winter, honey,” Mom calls from the doorway.
I hold a hand up. “Stay where you are, Mom.”
“Please, Winter.”
I hate the tremor in her voice. The fear that makes it unsteady.
I lean over my father, wishing I could be as ruthless as him. That I could choke the life out of him. That I could set my mother free. But she’s a caged bird, too scared to spread her wings and fly. “Remember what happened the last time you put your hands on my mother?”
His jaw cracks, and he glares at me with such deep loathing I almost flinch. Almost. “Shoulda taken her to the doctor when I found out she was pregnant with ya and got rid of the problem. Then you wouldn’t be here to ruin our lives.”
His words are blades, and my armor isn’t quite thick enough to keep them from cutting. But I’ll be damned if I ever let him see that he’s hurt me. “I think you do a pretty great job of ruining your life without my help, but feel free to keep blaming me.”
“You’re an ungrateful little bitch.”
“So you keep saying.” I give him a tight smile. “You should go for a drive. Maybe visit your friends at the trailer park and bitch about me there.”
“This is my fucking house.”
“It’s not, actually. It’s in Mom’s name, not yours.
And based on the will, it’s stipulated that I’m to inherit it once you’re gone.
I know that’s probably a lot of big words that are too difficult for you to understand.
” I hate myself for stooping to his level with the insults.
“But you need some time to calm the fuck down. You can be as mad at me as you want, but Mom has nothing to do with any of this. I kept her in the dark for this exact reason.”
He gets to his feet, stumbling back a step.
The railing sways, and for the briefest moment, I think the unthinkable—that it might give way and I’ll be rid of him.
But he finds his balance and steps away from the edge, forcing me to step back too, so he’s not breathing his rank smoke-and-booze breath in my face.
He rolls his shoulders back. “I’ve had enough of this shit tonight.” He shoves his hand in his pants pocket, his grin malevolent. “You’ll never get out of here, Winter. Not so long as your mother is still breathing.”
He shoves by me, and Mom shuffles back as he passes through the kitchen.
She grabs for his arm, apologizing, and he shakes her off, telling her it’s her damn fault.
All of it. And then the porch door slams shut.
Gravel pings as he revs the engine and speeds down the driveway.
Every time he gets behind the wheel like this, I cross my fingers he makes it wherever he’s going.
We can’t afford the hospital bills if he ends up in an accident.
When I turn back, Mom is wringing her hands. “You shouldn’t have lied about where you were going tonight.”
“I didn’t want to get you in trouble.” I step inside and close the screen door to keep the mosquitos out.
“Is that why you didn’t tell me about the acceptance letter? I didn’t even know you’d applied to college.” Accusation laces her tone.
If my mom was the one who found the letter in my room, everything else should be safe.
I can deal with her hurt. I can smooth it over.
I take a deep breath. “There wasn’t a point in saying anything when I didn’t know if I’d be accepted.
And I applied on a whim. It doesn’t matter anyway, since I can’t afford to go. ”
She peeks up at me, looking like a scolded child, not a mother. “That letter made it sound like they’d give you some money. Is that true?”
“Sort of… But it doesn’t matter. I can’t go.” Even if they’ll cover tuition, I have to pay for books, housing, and food, and what I’ve saved will only cover half those costs. And I can’t leave her alone to deal with my father. He’ll break her. I can’t live with that guilt. It’s an endless loop.