Chapter Twelve
Hattie
"What the fuck?" Vanessa mutters beside me, peering through the dark when she pulls into my driveway.
I follow her gaze, my heart constricting when I see what she's looking at. My mother is pacing a circuit across my front porch. Great.
"Just wonderful," I mutter, staring at her. She's the last person I want to deal with right now. I already had to do that once today. Shouldn't there be a limit on how many times you have to shovel shit in one day?
"Do you want me to stay?" Vanessa asks softly.
For a split second, I consider saying yes.
Mom is always easier to tolerate with someone else around.
She's less honest about who she is when someone might see.
But…I've spent enough of my life hiding behind any shield that was tossed in front of me, just to avoid being mentally and emotionally flayed raw by this woman.
I'm tired of doing it. I'm tired of feeling like I'm not enough and never will be. For once, I know that's not true. I'm not the problem here. I was never the problem. It is now and has always been her.
"No," I sigh, unlatching my seatbelt. "Thank you for offering, but I can deal with her."
"Are you sure?" Vanessa eyes me, clearly worried. "I don't mind staying."
"I'm sure," I promise, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "But thank you for offering. And thank you for driving me home."
She grins at me, flashing her dimples. "You don't owe me thanks, Hattie. It's what sisters are for, and I'm really, really looking forward to being your sister."
"Me too," I whisper, flinging my arms around her in a tight hug.
"Everything is going to be okay," she whispers in my ear, hugging me back. "You'll see."
I let the confidence in her voice wash over me, trying to believe it.
I know Sidney and Tye both want what's best for me.
And I know that Tye will get over the thought of us together eventually.
I just really don't want them to fight, not because of me.
I don't want to be the one the whole world blames for ruining their friendship, not when Sidney and I already have an uphill battle ahead of us.
But I guess that's a problem for later. The problem of the moment is on my front porch. I release Vanessa, take a breath, and then climb from the car to deal with it.
"Mom," I say, walking carefully to my front steps. "What are you doing here?"
"Did you put your brothers up to it?" she asks as Vanessa backs out of the driveway before pulling off.
"Put them up to what?"
"Don't play dumb with me, Henrietta," she snaps. "You know exactly what I'm talking about!"
I lean up against the railing, staring at her for a long moment. It's odd. My entire life, she's always seemed like this little Barbie to me—hair always perfect, makeup flawless, designer clothes. But right now? In this moment? It's hard to see anything but the cracks in the facade.
Sure, her hair is perfect, and her makeup is flawless.
But the platinum blonde is fake, used to cover the gray.
Her makeup hides the lines and wrinkles that the Botox didn't smooth away.
Her designer clothes cover the scars left behind from who knows how many surgeries.
There's nothing real about her except the hate and jealousy she's spewed at me for most of my life.
Everything else is a facade, created out of the pieces of whoever she used to be.
How am I supposed to be like her when she isn't even real? When I'm not sure even she knows who she is? Strip away the pretty mask, and what's left? A bitter shell.
"Can I ask you a question?"
"What?" She crosses her arms, impatient.
"Who in your life told you that you had to change everything about you to be beautiful?" I ask softly.
Her eyes narrow. "What?"
"Who told you that you have to change everything about yourself to be beautiful, Mom? Was it someone in your life? Magazines? A celebrity?"
"What are you talking about?"
"This," I say, motioning toward her. "You.
Nothing about you is real, and for most of my life, I've wondered why.
I've always thought you were so beautiful, you know?
Like this little Barbie doll. For a long time, I hated that I looked nothing like you.
But I realized that not even you look like you.
None of it's real. The person in front of me is just who you've turned yourself into. It makes me sad for you."
"Do not insult me," she snaps. "I'm your mother."
"But you aren't," I say softly. "A mother is someone who loves you unconditionally.
They support you, fight for you, and protect you.
You've never done that. You've spent my entire life tearing me down, trying to convince me that I have to change everything about me to be worthy of your love. That's not a mother."
"How dare you?" She takes a step toward me, her eyes flashing. "I raised you!"
"No," I disagree, my voice firm. "I survived you.
There's a difference. We both know you've always hated me because I look like Dad.
Just like we both know that you've spent most of my life trying to turn me into your daughter instead of his, just so you could finally feel like you won.
But I'm not a fucking weapon you can use against the dead, Mom. "
She lifts her hand like she's going to hit me.
"Touch her, and I swear to God, you'll regret it," Sidney snarls from behind me, his voice so dark it's terrifying.
Mom jumps a little, her hand falling back to her side.
I don't jump, though. I don't even move.
I just wait for him to come to me because I know he will.
That's the thing about Sidney. He loves me in a way this woman never could.
He values me in a way she'll never understand.
I don't have to change to be enough for him.
I don't have to reshape myself to fit or buff away my flaws for him. He loves me, exactly the way I am.
He steps up beside me, wrapping an arm around my waist. "Are you okay, butterfly?" he asks, his impossible green eyes locked on my face.
"Yes," I whisper, tilting my face up to his.
"Have you said everything you need to say to her?"
"Not yet."
"Say it, Hattie baby," he murmurs.
I glance over at her to see her watching us, her expression wary.
"I forgive you, Mom. I know you'll never apologize because you aren't capable of understanding what you've done or why it's so fucking awful, but I forgive you anyway," I say.
"I'm not forgiving you for your sake, but for mine.
I don't want to be like you, hanging onto things that don't serve me.
You've clung to your anger at Dad for so long, you don't even know who you are without it anymore.
That won't ever be me." I take a breath, my whole body shaking.
"But we're done here. Until you get help for your issues, I don't want to see you, either.
And if you came here to try to guilt me into changing my brothers' minds, you wasted your time.
I've been asking them to let you back in for a lot longer than I should have, just because I thought that's what I was supposed to do as your daughter.
Now, I think I just want to be my father's daughter.
He knew when to walk away and protect the people who mattered. "
For the first time, I see my mom crack slightly. She flinches, paling. Her bottom lip quivers. The tears aren't for show this time. I think they might actually be real. "You don't mean that," she says. "Henrietta, you're my daughter. You can't just abandon me."
"My name is Hattie," I say, "and I'm not abandoning you. I'm walking away from the person who never deserved me."
She chokes on a sob, wailing.
Sidney doesn't even flinch. Neither do I.
He dips his head, brushing his lips across mine in a soft kiss before he turns back to my mother, his expression black enough to scare the devil himself.
"If you ever raise your hand to her again, the whole fucking world will know exactly what kind of monster you," he warns her.
"You don't look at her. You don't speak to her.
You don't come within fifty feet of her unless she decides you can.
If you do, I'll ruin you with a fucking smile on my face. "
"Please," she sobs.
"Goodbye, Mom," I whisper, allowing Sidney to guide me around her and then into the house.
As soon as the door shuts, muffling her cries, he scoops me up into his arms, holding me like he's never going to let me go.
"I've got you, butterfly," he croons, carrying me down the hall while I sob. I'm not sad, though. I'm not even hurt. For the first time, I feel free. I feel powerful. And I feel loved.
"Are you okay?" Sidney asks when I finally cry myself out in his arms. We're on my bed, his arms around me like a shield. I don't know if my mother is still outside. I don't care. I'm right where I need to be.
"Yes," I whisper, turning my face up to his. "Are you?"
He presses his forehead against mine. "So long as you're okay, I'm perfect, baby."
"I love you."
His eyes flutter and then fall closed, a tremor working its way through his big body. "Say that again."
"I love you," I whisper, my voice raw.
"I love you more than life, Hattie," he chokes in response, shuddering again. "Christ, butterfly. You have no idea how long I've been dreaming about hearing those words from you."
"Sorry I took so long," I whisper. "I was a little busy trying to find myself."
His eyes spring open, his gaze tangling with mine. "Did you?"
"Yeah." My lips curve into a smile. "Want to know how?"
"How?"
"I asked this grump to save my life, and he taught me that I had all the tools I needed to do it myself," I say.
"He reminded me that I'm strong, capable, and beautiful.
He showed me how to stand proudly at his side and to fight for what matters to me.
" My bottom lip quivers. "He taught me how to let myself be loved and that I was always worthy of it. "