Page 65 of The Dirty Saint

I shake my head as I tear open a few envelopes of spam mail and throw them in the trash can, “Did you just come here to insult me? Because if you did, you could have done that on the phone. Gives theexactsame effect.”

My mother gets up from my couch, finishing her glass of wine, “I’m simply looking out for you, Ezra. I don’t want my grandson—ormy daughter—to be around psychos who breed psycho children.”

I walk to the fridge. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“What more is there to know,” my mother shouts.

I turn around, my back pressed to the countertop.

“You wanna know therealreason why I skipped out on family dinner, Mom? It’s because ofyou.”

“Oh, come on, Ez, the dramatics now? Really?”

I chew my bottom lip before continuing. “You think I want to sit around the table and listen to you judgeeveryone of my decisions? You don’t like how I’m raising Noah who, by the way, ismyson. You have issues with who I bring him around, even though the people heisaroundcareabout him.

“You break into my home just to tell me I’m not a good mother. Then again, how could I be when my role model was you?”

The room goes silent.

I wipe away a speck of dust from the corner of my eye. “When was the last time you called me just to say hi or that you loved me? When was the last time youappreciatedme?”

“You are punishing me for stuff that happenedyearsago, Ezra. I’vechanged.”

“Sure you have,” I say. “You’re right. That’s one thing about you, Mom; you arealwaysright.”

“There is no need for sarcasm, young lady.”

“Let me ask you something, Mom. When you found out I was taken, did you even shed a tear?”

“Of course I did. You are mydaughter!”

“Then why didn’t you doeverythingyou could to get me back,” my voice cracks.

“I was locked away for almost two months. Fifty-two days, to be exact, and in that time, I experienced the absoluteworstthings you could imagine.”

I take a deep breath, collecting myself.

“Look, Mom, I’m glad you care about Nathaniel and Aurelia and Beatrice and Jude. It makes me happy. Really. But don’t you think for two seconds that I don’t recognize how different a mother I got than they did.”

Yearsof abuse I suffered at the hands of the woman who was supposed to love me and protect me.

“Oh, and you wanna make jabs at the Odehs,” I sneer. “Go for it. I can’t stop you. But I will tell you that they embraced Noah and me with open arms. In fact, Joey’s nephew David calls me Aunt Ezra, and Noah calls Joey’s brothers and sister-in-law Uncle Santi, Uncle Manni, and Aunt Eva. I didn’t make him. No, he did that on his own because he recognizes that they are now family.

“And that he and I are theirs.”

Giselle Maya’s lips have formed into what appears to be a neutral expression, but I know my mother.

She’s fuming.

“If that’s the case,” she smoothes out her blouse, “then that would make the Santos family, too. So, should I call up Nancy and schedule a plan? Or would that be inappropriate?”

“You are such abitch,” I bark. “Bringing up those people in my home. Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Doesn’t feel good, does it, Ezra?”

I shake my head, mere seconds away from blowing up.

“Do you getenjoymentout of this?”

---