Page 86 of Ask Your Mom If I'm Real

“Be careful out there, dear,” Cinda called from her perch against the kitchen counter. “And Merry Christmas Eve!”

I smiled. “Merry Christmas to you, too.”

My eyes flashed once to Jeremiah, who hadn’t said a word about me leaving, and hurried out of the house.

I did, however, remember to snag the coat.

I needed one, and at this point, I wasn’t above taking charity.

I’d surpassed that point a long time ago when I realized that I couldn’t make ends meet. And when I couldn’t make ends meet, my child suffered.

Anleigh wouldn’t do well with me sick as a dog because I couldn’t adequately clothe myself.

I took one last look back into the house when I closed the door, and saw Jeremiah come around the corner to watch me go.

Our eyes met, and I froze there on the doorstep.

“Bye!” Anleigh whispered, waving at the man.

Jeremiah whispered back, “Bye, sweetheart.”

Chapter

Nine

I never feel smarter than after reading questions in my kid’s sports group chat.

—Merriam’s secret thoughts

MERRIAM

A pool of dread filled my stomach as I looked at the road start to become covered with snow.

Trapped.

I was trapped.

In a house with my father, on this day.

Christmas Eve.

Normally, today I’d be working my ass off at the Brinkley’s, trying to sell as much as I could and stay as late as I could manage without it looking like I was procrastinating going home.

Christmas Eve and Christmas were the two days that my father didn’t work every year.

Christmas because he was too drunk from the day before to get up and go to work.

Christmas Eve because that was the day that my mother died having me.

I’d been born on Christmas Eve, and every day after my birth, my father had never let me forget that I was the person that’d taken the love of his life away.

I couldn’t remember a time from my childhood that my father hadn’t been abusive to me.

My earliest memory is being three years old and having the absolute snot beaten out of me because I’d had the audacity to walk into my father’s room and ask for a glass of water because my throat hurt.

Honestly, I was surprised that I’d even survived my childhood.

In the early years, my grandmother had been alive to take care of me—because my father sure the hell wouldn’t.

---