Page 140 of Painting Celia

Kelsey gasped, then stepped sideways to stand next to Celia.

Celia barely felt the lump in her throat, the frantic stutter of breath. The verbal beating was inevitable, her friends here to witness her shame. Cowering wouldn’t save her. It never had. She was small and lightheaded, powerless and unlovable, called to answer for her failures. She looked frantically at her black iron stairs but knew escape had never been an option. Her Incubadora closed in on her, no beat of activity, no melody of construction.

Cornered and mute, a frantic drumbeat in her chest, she was finally driven to stand.

Kelsey’s hand softly touched her back. León stood poised to protect.

From a strength borrowed and built, she chose.

“No.”

“No?!” Mom’s voice was a whip crack, echoing in the high rafters. She raised a thin hand to her throat in hurt disbelief. “You’re really going to turn your back on your own mother?”

Wheedling, Celia tried. “Mom. Please. I’m just… I am doing what’s best for me.”

“And what about me?” Mom stinging voice rose, sharp and pointed.

“I’ve taken care of you! You have the house, everything is paid—”

“I mean, you refusing to talk to me. Incredible!”

Celia’s fingernails bit into her palms. “No, you said….”

With a sorrowful pity in her downturned mouth, her mother sighed. “You’re confused. This isn’t how an adult handles things, Celia Rose.”

“Maybe,” Celia conceded, a chill sinking through her. “I know I’m confused. That’s why I need time on my own to figure it out.”

Mom rolled her eyes. “Figure what out? I can’t go through your dramatics again, poor little Celia! What did I do? I never thought my own child would abandon me like this.”

“Mom,” Celia begged, “please don’t.”

León dropped an arm across the desk with a thump, a barrier between them. “She said no.” His voice had never sounded so steely. It rang up Celia’s spine like a bell. Kelsey’s palm pressed firmly against Celia’s back, a warm reminder that it was there.

Mom turned her affronted glare on León and Kelsey in turn. “You’re being influenced,” she declared. “You would never do this otherwise.”

Probably true! Celia’s friends…those beside her now, Andrew who knew the antidote, Trevor with his story in the alcove. Her found family.

“I’m sticking with people who lift me up,” she said.

Biting back a laugh, her mother raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Oh, that’s rich! After everything I’ve done for you!”

“Maybe I will regret this,” Celia placated. “I don’t know.”

Kelsey whispered, almost to herself, “Celia, no.”

Mom skewered her with a look, brows low, lips set in a line. Her coiled stillness held the promise of a slap. “Is this really what you want, Celia? To hurt your mother?”

Silent dust motes floated through the weight of years. A collective breath was held.

“No.”

Her mother raised her chin, righteous.

“I’ll get you a hotel,” Celia finished. “I’ll tell them to call you with directions.” She heard Kelsey release a long breath. From León, there was only tense silence.

Mom goggled. “Has your mind snapped?”

“No.” The single word was a shield.

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