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I try not to let it bother me, but it’s hard. She treats him like the beloved son she always wanted, and me like I’m a nuisance.

There were times when she’d try to divide us, make one hate the other. But she underestimated the power of our connection. We’re twins. It’ll take a hell of a lot more than a manipulative parent to divide us.

While I always come over and clean, Christian brings groceries. We try to buy enough non-perishables to last her for a month, but I doubt that happens with as many parties as she hosts. I wouldn’t be surprised if all the assholes she lets hang around here eat it all within a week.

Once Christian is able to extract himself from Mom’s embrace, he brings the groceries inside. I try not to let it bother me that Mom never hugs me. She doesn’t even act like she’s happy to see me. Ever.

“You alright?” Christian asks as he sets a couple bags on the clean counter.

I nod but don’t speak. I can feel his eyes on me before he turns and heads back out to his truck to get the rest of the groceries.

I unpack what he brought in to keep me busy. Mom steps into the kitchen and takes a seat at the dining table. “Why can’t you be more like Christian? He brings me the things I need rather than throwing it all away.”

I ignore her as I continue to put the food away. He bought all the fixings for spaghetti and meatballs, so I leave that out. I always make her dinner before we leave. At least I know she gets one good meal out of everything we bring.

“Answer me,” she barks.

I lift my eyes to hers, doing everything in my power to look unaffected by her words. “What do you want me to say, Mom? That I’m sorry for flushing your drugs down the toilet? Grams taught us not to lie, so I’m not going to lie.”

“You have no right.”

Choosing to ignore her, I go back to the groceries. “Spaghetti and garlic bread tonight?”

She doesn’t answer me, so I look over my shoulder at her. She waves her hand at me in disgust just as Christian walks in with his arms full of more groceries.

Christian looks between us and sighs. He knows how hard these visits are on me, and he also knows I do it for him. If it weren’t for him, I’d never see Mom again. I wouldn’t pay her rent or clean up her shit or even bother giving her the time of day. Not after everything she’s done to hurt Christian.

Despite all of that, he still loves her. Then again, he would. She’s always loved him back.

“This is the last of it,” Christian says as he sets them on the counter and starts unpacking them.

“I told Mom I’d make spaghetti. You good with that?

He nods. “With the meatballs that I like?”

“Yep. And the garlic bread. I figured that would also leave her with some leftovers for tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. I also got a brownie mix and some eggs. We can make those up too. Brownies are her favorite.”

“Will you two stop talking about me like I’m not here? It’s rude.”

I snap my eyes in her direction. “Rude? You have some nerve to call us rude. You’ve been nothing but rude and hateful to me since the day I was born. You should be grateful we even care enough to check on you, let alone feed you.”

“You’re not the one feeding me. Christian is. You just annoy me.”

“Mom,” Christian sighs. “Chase paid for these groceries too. They’re from both of us.”

Mom opens her mouth like she’s going to say something else—probably another insult at me—but then stops. Then she lets out a huff and leaves the room. A moment later, her bedroom door slams shut.

Christian looks at me with sadness in his eyes. I wave him off. He always makes excuses for her behavior, but that’s all they are. Excuses. I’m tired of hearing excuses. I’m tired of having to listen to him defend her when she’s never done anything good for either of us.

All she’s ever done is hurt us. Albeit in different ways. Him through drugs and me through verbal abuse.

Nothing we do or say is ever going to change her. I accepted it a long time ago. I just wish Christian could do the same.

Chapter 7

I can take care of myself

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