Page 192 of Smooth Sailing

“How are you even here?” Mom demanded. “For years, Diana wasn’t even talking to you.”

I got there before Dad did. “That’s not your business.”

“How is it not my business? I’m your mother!” Mom shouted.

“It’s not your business, because Dad and I had a thing after I got sexually assaulted in my dorm room.”

Gram gasped, then moaned, and finally reeled, throwing out a hand to catch the kitchen counter.

Big Petey got close to spot her.

Mom stared at me.

Dad moved nearer to me.

But as much as I felt for Gram, and it was a lot, I was in this too deep, so I was all about Mom.

“But I didn’t even tell you about it, Mom, because you’re so goddamned fragile, I knew you couldn’t handle it,” I went on. “Except I realized the truth recently. I didn’t tell you about my assault because I knew deep down inside somehow, you’d twist it, and you’d make it about you.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say,” Mom whispered.

“I know it is. I even feel it is, because it’s true,” I returned.

“Diana,” Gram choked.

I looked to my grandmother, and the expression on her face wrecked me.

“I’m okay, Gram. It was ten years ago. I’m good,” I promised.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

And…yeah.

I didn’t tell her and Gramps either, because Gramps wouldn’t have been able to handle it (he was super protective of all his girls, a boon (for me), what would become a burden (because…Mom)) and Gram would have told Mom.

“Because you would tell Mom, and I couldn’t handle dealing with what had happened and dealing with her too.” Tears filled her eyes, so I said softly, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s why you quit school,” she surmised.

“Part of it, yes.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, doll. It was me and your grandfather who let you down,” Gram said.

“No, you didn’t. You let me move in with you.”

“We could have done more.”

“There wasn’t more,” I told her. “You did what I needed.”

“Well isn’t this marvelous?” Mom cut in sarcastically. “Everyone is all good and cozy, except you all are angry at me when I didn’t even know what was happening.”

“Maggie, your daughter just shared—” Gram began.

“Save it, Mom!” my mother screeched.

“Do not talk to her that way,” I warned.

“Speaking like that to your own mother,” she bit at me, like she hadn’t just screeched at hers.

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