Page 32 of This is Why We Lied

“You were pregnant,” Bitty said. “Fifteen years old. Do you know how embarrassing that was for me and Papa?”

“Do you know how hard it was for me?”

“Then you should’ve kept your legs closed,” Bitty snapped. “You always push things too far, Mercy. Dave said the same thing about you. You’re just going too far.”

“You talked to Dave?”

“Yes, I talked to Dave. I had Jon crying on one shoulder and Dave on the other. He’s torn up about all of this, Mercy. He needs that money. He owes people.”

“Money won’t change that,” Mercy said. “He’ll just end up owing different people.”

“This time is different.” Bitty had been reading from that same script for over a decade. “Dave wants to change. The money will give him the opportunity to do better.”

Mercy felt her head shaking. Bitty had buckets of grace where Dave was concerned. There was an endless number of corners he could turn. Meanwhile, Mercy had been forced to endure a full year of monthly piss tests before her mother would let her have unsupervised time alone with Jon.

Bitty said, “Dave wants us to get a house down the hill where we can all live together.”

Mercy laughed. Sneaky fucking Dave locking down Bitty and Papa’s share of the sale, too. She’d give it a year before he was dipping into their retirement funds.

“He said we’d find something big, something all one level so Papa doesn’t have to sleep in the dining room, with a pool for Jon so he can bring his friends over. The boy’s lonely up here,” Bitty said. “Dave can make a good life for us and Jon. And you, too, if you weren’t so blasted stubborn.”

Mercy laughed. “Why do I feel any surprise that you’re taking Dave’s side? I’m just as gullible as you are.”

“He’s still my baby, no matter how much you’ve twisted that around in your head. I’ve never treated him any different from you and Christopher.”

“Except for all the constant love and affection.”

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself.” Bitty quietly stamped her foot again. “Papa was going to tell you this tonight, but no matter what happens with the investors, you’re fired.”

For the second time that day, Mercy felt gut punched. “You can’t fire me.”

“You’re going against the family,” Bitty said. “Where are you gonna live? Not in my house, no ma’am.”

“Mother.”

“Don’t you Mother me,” Bitty said. “Jon will stay, but you’re out of here by the end of the week.”

“You’re not keeping my son.”

“How are you going to support him? You don’t have a dime to your name.” Bitty’s chin tilted up in arrogance. “Let’s see how far you get down the mountain looking for a job with a murder charge hanging over your head.”

Mercy got in her face. “Let’s see how far your bony ass gets in prison.”

Bitty reared back, stunned.

“You think I don’t know what you’ve been up to?” There was something so intensely satisfying about the show of fear in her mother’s eyes. Mercy wanted more. “Try me, old woman. I can call the cops any time.”

“Listen up, girl.” Bitty jabbed her finger in Mercy’s face. “You keep up these threats, somebody’s gonna put a knife in your back.”

“I think my mother just did.”

“When I come for somebody, I look them in the eye.” She glared at Mercy. “You have until Sunday.”

Bitty turned on her heel and left through the door. The fact that she departed without making a sound was far worse than any stomping and slamming. There would be no apologies or take-backs. Her mother had meant what she’d said.

Mercy was fired. She had a week to vacate the house.

The realization hit her like a blow to the head. Mercy sank down into a chair. She felt dizzy. Her hands trembled. Her palm left a sweaty streak on the table. Could they fire her? Papa was the trustee, but most everything else came down to a vote. Mercy couldn’t count on Dave. Fish would stick his head in the sand. Mercy had no bank account, no money except for the two tens in her pocket, and that was from petty cash.

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