Page 24 of Twisted Collide

I press the button and wait.

“I’d ask where you are, but I know damn well where you are.”

“Hello to you too, Mother.”

“How could you?” Her harsh voice echoes throughout the room.

“You’re going to need to be clearer on what I’m being yelled at for.” Something tells me this will be a long conversation filled with lectures and threats, which means I probably should make myself comfortable.

I prop myself up in my bed, rearranging the pillow behind me.

“You know what I’m talking about. Booking a hotel room. Imagine my surprise when your father texted me last night and told me you never showed up at the party. Then I check my email, and I had a notification from the credit card company that a hotel was paid for on my credit card.”

“Oh yeah, about that—”

“I’m not done speaking, Josie.” She lets out a long, audible breath. “This has to stop.”

“If you’d allow me to speak—”

“Nope. I’m done listening to you. I have worked myself to the bone my whole life to provide for you, so now you will listen to me.”

Funny, because in all my life, that’s the one thing my mother has never done. It’s always been her speaking and me listening. I’ve never had the chance to voice my concerns because anytimeI’ve tried, I’ve been gaslit or ignored entirely. Maybe that worked when I was a child, but if she wants me to grow up, then she needs to start treating me like an adult.

“First things first, I expect you to take my credit card out of your wallet and cut it up,” she orders.

“Fine,” I say.

Cutting up my credit card is extra, even for her, but she’s right. I need to figure it out for myself.

“I expect you to then drop it in the mail. I want you to send it to me to prove it’s been done.”

“Okay.”

“Good, and then after you do that, I expect you to head over to your father’s place. You are too old to be a freeloader. You will work for him. You will do what you need to make connections.”

“I don’t need your lectures anymore. I’m an adult.”

“Too bad, young lady. You’ve made it really clear you can no longer be trusted.”

“Mom—”

“You’re behaving like a child. You are twenty-two years old, and it’s time for you to start acting like it. You understand me?”

“Mother,” I snap. “Can I talk?”

“No,” she barks back, and I’m seconds away from losing my cool for the first time ever. “Josephine . . .” What now? What more can she say to me? It’s bad enough she shipped me to live and work with a man I’ve never met before . . . someone she’s purposely kept out of my life. Now she’s just piling it on thick. “I’m doing this because I love you.”

My heart feels tight in my chest. It’s always the same. Berate and then declare it’s all done out of love. She constantly trivializes my feelings. The older I get, the more I see it for what it is. She gaslights me, and I stonewall her. I should respond, but all I can get out is “Okay.” Then I hang up. There’s no point in trying; nothing will change my mother’s mind once it’s made up. Now, it’s time to face the music.

I’m notsure what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. This house is much nicer than how I pictured it. In my imagination, living in hisguesthousedidn’t make sense, but now it does. The property is ginormous, and the house even bigger. Must be nice to have had all this yet have no relationship with your kid.

Even now that I’m moving in with him, I’m not sure he’ll have any interactions with me. The man won’t even know I’m here.

I take it all in and find myself feeling wholly insecure. Who is this guy?

The house is a large colonial with red brick and white pillars. It’s the type of house that reminds me of a Christmas movie. The type of house where a happy family lives.

It seems a little large for one person.

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