Page 14 of Forbidden

Taking a deep breath, I sat on my daybed in the corner of the room. I tried to calm myself like I always needed to do whenever my stepfather had been in my room. I set my bag down next to me on the bed and placed my hand over my stomach, hoping to calm it with deep breaths.

It didn’t work. As I sat there, I noticed my underwear drawer was slightly open. Underwear was the one thing I splurged on, and seeing my drawer like that reminded me of my favorite panties.

They had gone missing about a month ago. They were dark purple satin with black lace along the hips and they cost way too much for something no one but me would see, but I had to have them. I always did my own laundry so I knew they didn’t get lost in the hamper. There was only one place they could be.

Perverted sonofabitch!

Getting up from the bed, I stood in front of my dresser as I wondered which pair was missing this time. Holding my breath, I opened the drawer. Lying on top were my favorite undies. They had magically been returned. They were lying flat on top of everything. There was no way I could have missed them.

That was the last straw. I grabbed the panties as I heard my mother walking down the hall. In her arms were several shopping bags with Macy’s on them.

I held up the panties as I tried to rein in my anger. “Did you do this?” I asked. “Did you put them back in my drawer?”

“Oh, is that the pair you lost?”

Without looking at me, she turned into her bedroom. I followed her. I couldn’t just ignore it anymore. I was done keeping my mouth shut about her husband and the things he did in my bedroom.

“You know I didn’t lose them,” I said. “Was it you? Or did he put them back? I can’t help but notice they magically returned two days after I told you they were missing and the same day my door was taken off its hinges.”

“I’m sure they’ve been in your drawer all this time. You’ve never been very observant.”

Clenching my fists, I had to control the urge to hit something. I wasn’t a violent person, but at that moment everything came together and I was done.

“I’m done with this, Mom. I’ve had enough. I can’t live like this anymore.”

“What are you talking about now?” she said with a sigh.

“I have no privacy. I can’t go out with friends. I can’t talk on the phone without him listening in. These are the things I’m talking about. Things that you know about. I can’t even have a lock on the door to my room.”

“You know the reason for that. Jim said he needs access to every bedroom at all times of the day or night. What if there was a fire?”

I knew fire was a big thing with my mother, which was why she would bring that up as an excuse. When she was a kid, the apartment building they lived in caught fire. They didn’t have much, but they lost everything.

I already knew the excuses about Jim needing access to my bedroom at all times. I felt sick thinking about it and how my mother always turned a deaf ear and a blind eye to it.

“I’m moving out,” I suddenly blurted out.

She laughed. “Where do you think you’re going?”

I didn’t have many options. Maybe I could rent a room. I knew at this point I wouldn’t be able to get a dorm at Rutgers. That was even assuming I could go there. I wasn’t even sure how I would afford a place and still go to school, but I knew I couldn’t live with my mother and stepfather anymore. There was only one option left; one person who promised to always have a room for me.

“I’ll move in with Dad,” I said.

She laughed and began pulling her new clothes out from the bags. Holding up a little black dress against her body, she turned to me. “What do you think? Nice? It was on sale,” she said. “Why don’t you give Jim and me a little extra this month so we can go out to dinner?”

She didn’t ask for money, she made it sound like she was, like she was being nice, but her tone and the look in her eye made it clear her statement was a demand.

How can this be my mother?I wondered. Why can’t she at least pretend to care about me? Shouldn’t a mother care about her child?

I couldn’t believe her. I couldn’t believe how much she could only think about herself, and I definitely couldn’t believe she was ignoring what I said about moving out.

“Did you hear me?” I asked.

“What? That joke about living with your dad? Yes, I heard that.” She rolled her eyes before dumping another bag of just purchased clothing onto her bed. “You go right ahead. You think we’re strict, just wait until you see how your dad is.”

That was the problem. I didn’t know my dad that well. With him and Joanna living around the corner, I saw him a little more frequently, but we still never spoke very much. I felt like we were still trying to get to know each other, but I also knew that he cared about me. Unlike my mother.

Whenever I went to his house, Dad reminded me I had a bedroom. Joanna had decorated it with photos of my dad and I through the years and the room always had fresh flowers in it. I knew it was my bedroom, but it felt like a shrine and not my room.

My mother was right. I didn’t really know what it would be like living with him. I hadn’t spent more than a day with my father in the fifteen years since they divorced. As Mom continued looking over her new clothing, I heard Jim’s footsteps on the stairs. I had a choice to make--the devil I knew or the one I didn’t.

“I’m moving in with Dad,” I said.

---