Page 85 of The Summer I Destroyed You

Jeff nods like a good little boy, though he’s apparently slightly uncomfortable doing it with witnesses.

“Well, I think Emmy looks great,” Jordan says.

“Go get the photo album, Jeff,” my mother says. “It’s on the bookcase in the upstairs hall.”

Jeff, dutiful son that he is, rises.

“Are you serious right now, Mom?” I demand. “You want to pass a photo album around the table during dinner just to show everyone how disgusting you found me?”

“No,” she replies. “I want to pass the photo album around because two people here seem to think I’m lying.”

Jordan looks from me to my mother. “Sandra, I wasn’t trying to say you were lying. I just meant that Emmy looks good now.”

“I know, dear. But Emmy wants to sell you all a story about how cruel I am, as if she just had a little baby fat, and it was far more than that. Even she seemed to think it was no big deal, marching around with her chin up like she was better than everyone.”

I swallow hard over the lump in my throat.

I walked around with my chin up so no one would think they’d gotten to me. I walked around with my chin up as if I hadn’t heard them, because I couldn’t think of another way to survive. But my mother has always found a way to see the worst in me in every single thing I do.

“So you’d have preferred it if I slunk around apologizing to everyone for something that was none of their business?” I demand as Jeff re-enters the room. “You’d have preferred to have me ashamed?”

“I’d have preferred it if you weren’t fat in the first place,” she replies.

Jordan’s eyes widen, but it’s Liam who breaks the stunned silence after she speaks.

“Are you serious right now?” he finally asks, his voice hoarse.

“Jeff, hand the album to Liam,” my mother insists.

“Hand me that album, Jeff, and I will shove it down your fucking throat.” Liam reaches for my hand, his fingers tightening with mine. “Em, let’s go.” He rises, pulling me with him.

“Go?” I ask.

“Go.”

He squeezes my hand. Everything he hasn’t said is in his eyes: You’ve given her enough. You’ve given her enough chances, enough of your time. Stop trying.

There’s a part of me that wants to argue—that same part of me that’s spent twenty-eight years trying to convince her to like me, that’s tried to convince her I’m worthy of her care. But I’ve jumped through every fucking hoop, and it never changes. Liam’s right. It’s time to go. She’s had her last chance.

I rise and my mother gives an exasperated sigh. “This is ridiculous. Emerson, sit down.”

But we’re already past that. I’m already past that. In that moment when Liam told me it was time to go, a door shut, and it’s going to stay closed.

“I need to get my stuff,” I tell him, and he nods. Snowflake rouses from her nap and comes bounding to my side.

Shit. I can’t leave her here, and I won’t. “Snowflake’s coming with me too,” I announce, which is when they finally seem to believe I’m not coming back.

“You can’t just leave,” Jeff says. “Who’s going to drive her to PT?”

Liam is already leading me away. “You seem eager to assist, Jeff,” he says over his shoulder. “Consider it a promotion.”

We go upstairs. Liam blinks in dismay when he sees the bedroom I had to cut a path through in order to reach the bed. “I can’t believe you’ve been living like this.”

I guess I’d stopped seeing it. I’d stopped seeing a lot of things. I’d grown so accustomed to my mother’s disdain and her commentary about my weight that I became blind to it.

If I hadn’t had to view my life through Liam’s eyes just now, I’d still be sitting down there trying my hardest not to eat the potatoes.

I throw a suitcase on the bed and begin to pack. “I have a huge favor to ask. Do you mind taking Snowflake? I can’t bring her to a hotel, but I’ll look for an Airbnb in the morning.”

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