Page 12 of The Dirty Saint

“You came onto him, Ezra. There wasnothingCaleb could have done.”

A dish clatters in the sink, and I jump back slightly at the loud sound.

“Icame ontohim? Do you evenhearyourself, Mom?”

“Caleb Santo was a good boy with astellarreputation before he got involved with you.”

“I didn’t make him stick his dick in my vagina,” I look her direction. “He did that all on his own.”

“YouruinedMichael and Nancy’s life.”

I nod.

And then I lift my shirt up to reveal the nasty scars up and down my stomach.

“Hedid this to me!” I cry. “Michael Santo didthis!” I point to the whip markings.

“The guilt tripping, Ezra. Always the guilt-tripping,” she whispers.

I roll my eyes.

“Always playing the victim, Mom. You just can’t help it.”

“And to think,” my mother mumbles. “I thought getting you back could help repair our relationship. What a fool.”

“Yeah, Mom, what a fool.”

I grab the cookies from the oven and throw them on the table.

“They’re a little burnt if you ask me.”

My mother gets up from her seat.

“I think that’s my cue to leave,” she says.

“I think so, too.”

The second the door closes, my head falls into my hands. I rub my eyes with my palms until they’re sore.

She’s insufferable. Has been since I was born. She’s toxic, and she’s narcissistic, but there was still a part of me that believed our bond could be salvaged.

I’m done. I am so, so done. She will not disrespect me in my home or anywhere ever again. I figured out how not to need her then, and I sure as hell do not need her now.

“Mom, why are you crying?”

Noah is standing in the living room, holding his teddy bear, Buck.

I turn off the faucet.

“Mom was just sad for a moment, that’s all. But she’s okay now, bud. Come. Why don’t we go read a book?”

“And the little boy,” I kiss Noah’s forehead, “Knew that he was loved beyond measure and treasured beyond belief. The end.”

I close the story and pull Noah into me. He rests his head against against my shoulder.

“Mom, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, bud. What’s on your mind?”