Page 62 of Breathe Again

“She creates her own reality and changes the narrative to suit herself, Mara!” she replied, exasperated.

“I don’t resent you,” I explained evenly, despite the flipping of my stomach.

“I know that,” she replied gently, “but it would be okay if you resented our parents for making you babysit so much. That’s on them, not me, and has nothing to do with us. Don’t worry about that, okay?”

I took a relieved breath. “Okay. It was good for us in the end anyway, made us close, gave us a bond she can’t break.”

It was Willa’s turn to release the breath she didn’t know she was holding, surprised at the realization that she, too, was worried about Bea driving a wedge between her and Mara.

I continued, “I just want her to understand that I’m busy and have my own pressures. I just want her to look after herself, which she is more than capable of doing, and not try to constantly guilt me into doing more for her.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“If she doesn’t what?”

“If she never understands that you are doing nothing wrong? If she doesn’t stop trying to guilt you?”

It never occurred to me that was an option. What reasonable human would look at me and not see that my hands were full? I couldn’t fathom a person not being able to understand what seemed to me to be perfectly logical.

“I always figured if I could just explain it right, I could make her see and understand, and then she’d accept things and give me some space.”

“It’s not going to happen. If it doesn’t suit her purpose, it’s not going to happen.” Willa spoke with finality.

“What did you say to her?”

Willa laughed. “I advised her that I would talk to her if she ever got counseling and to have a nice day.”

“What did she say to that?” I breathed, both impressed and fearful of Willa’s audacity.

“I don’t know. I hung up.”

“You hung up?”

“Well, yeah.”

“It doesn’t upset you?”

“Sometimes it does. Right now, I’m just upset that she twists you up in knots. I’ve got her figured out, I think, and I’ve mostly made my peace with it.” She paused. “Mara, you have depression, you have Olivia, Zale is working a lot, you have homeschooling, Olivia’s therapy, your therapy, your writing, keeping house, you have so much going on, some of it really heavy stuff that other people, including Mom, don’t have to find the strength and resources to cope with. You don’t need to deal with the imaginary bullshit that Mom tries to put on you.”

“I feel sorry for her,” I admitted, then conceded, “also, her anger is terrifying to me.”

“I understand that. Feel sorry for Olivia. Feel sorry for Zale. Feel sorry for me, for Bex, because we get Mara who is stressed and exhausted. Most of all, save your compassion for you, because you’re the one who is being emotionally bitch slapped.”

I laughed. “Wow, don’t hold back, Willa! I love you; do you know that?”

She huffed out a laugh. “I do, Mara, I really do. Don’t know what I’d do without your love. Just… think about what I said. Give yourself a break and think about breaking free of the crazy cycle Mom pulls you into, for Olivia’s sake at least. It’s not healthy, the way Mom treats you, and you allowing it is not healthy either.”

“I’m starting to see that.”

“Let me ask you something. Would you ever treat Olivia like that?”

“God, no.” My answer was immediate.

“There you go,” she responded softly, “you know the truth inside. No one protected little Mara from Mom’s wrath. You’re going to have to protect yourself. Unless I’m there. If I’m there I’ll be all over that shit,” she ended with disgust.

I laughed. Willa was usually even-tempered and controlled. It was only when something triggered her protective instincts that she got riled.

“I know you would.” I sighed. “I need to stop feeling guilty for saying no to her. I should be allowed to say no without having a panic attack.”

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